Reuniting Part III

Since that moment it’s been a rollercoaster of emotions. I’m so glad that I made the trek out there (though coming home I was EXHAUSTED). It was worth every penny. A MasterCard commercial is in there somewhere.

Now to the boys' reunion.

I returned home two days before he did, picked up the boys and decorated the house, the car and stocked the fridge. (Beer, meat and fresh vegetables.)
I didn’t think I would cry when he saw Gabe and Asher, I’d had my moment already. But as the passengers began to stroll off the plane and I hurried the boys into unrolling their banner and waving their flags, the butterflies reappeared.


His face lit up when he saw them. Asher was smiling from ear to ear and I was so glad that he recognized him, unlike leave when Asher took a few hours to warm up to him. Gabe watched Terry with a sense of awe. I think I'll let the pictures tell the rest of the story.

And I cried again.

I snapped photos and let them have their moment. It was beautiful.

****

It's the end of the deployment, but the beginning of a new life in a lot of ways. We have the adventure of working with the Veteran’s Administration, counseling, a civilian job to go back to, etc.

He is different. I am almost afraid of how he will react to being in a sterile office and a suit and tie after living in ACU’s in the desert for so long. He said he feels naked without his weapon. He has urges to run people off the road in our Durango, which he looks at with a bit of disgust for its gas guzzling characteristics and his resolve that the U.S. needs to get off oil. He’ll stare off into the distance and I wonder what he’s thinking about. I’ll catch him following me with his eyes. At first I asked, “What?” and he would just shake his head and say, “It’s just good to be with you again.” Now, I'll smile and go on with what I’m doing.

I am different. I’m a psychotic control freak about the house. God save him if he leaves the washcloth waded up in the bathroom or puts his shoes in the closet instead of by the coat rack. I stiffen when he tells me to do anything a certain way. “I’ve been alone for 15 months, I can handle it,” I’ll say. I don’t mean to be rude, but there is a mixture of anger that he left us for so long and pride that I can take care of a broken down car, a clogged garbage disposal or giant man-eating grasshoppers.

I call my neighbor. Kidding!

Seriously though, things are different. Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, has told me that it takes 6 months to a year to get things back to "normal,"whatever that means anymore. (People offer the same amount of unsolicited advice about reuniting from a deployment as they do to a first time mom. )

Thanks for reading my rants, raves and random thoughts about deployment life. I hope you’ll keep reading as I keep writing, 'cause I already have some good post-deployment stories to tell.

I could not finish these thoughts without saying there were others in forefront of my mind. Heidi, since I know you read my blog, I'll just say that you are one of them, and Holly, you too. I thought of you both. I will never forget that you did not get the homecoming you dreamed about and probably dream of still. Though we've only had the privelege of knowing them through your shared memories, our family will never forget Sean or Tom or the rest of our soldiers. And I hope anyone who happens to stumble on my little piece of the Internet will thank EVERY single person they ever cross paths with, who has volunteered to defend the U.S. As I've said before, it's not about Iraq. We don't get paid much for what we're asked to do, but we do it anyway. The least we can do for those taken from us is speak their names and share their lives with others.

Reuniting Part II

I arrive two days before he does and I’m telling you it was like a mini vacation not having any responsibilities for two whole days. I read a new book (20 Times a Lady.) I went to a movie. I had lunch with a friend. I shopped. I slept aaalllll night long. It was awesome!

The day before they arrived my battle buddy Shannon and I sat at Arby’s and talked about what it would be like to see our husbands again. She had been there for previous lifts and gave me a detailed account of how they would come in and how different families reacted to see their soldier for the first time. I started to tear up. Then she started to cry. I cried, “Stop, stop! I’m going to start crying.” All the while an angelic two-year-old girl was sitting in the booth next to us with her family. She couldn’t help playing peek-a-boo with us during our conversation and her mother kept apologizing for the interruption. Shannon laughed, “It’s ok, we’re crying happy tears,” and told them that our soldiers were coming home the next day. They gave congratulations all around.

So the big day arrives. We decided we needed something to calm the nerves so Shannon sought out the only bottle of champagne in this small town. It was terrible! (It cost three dollars, ok?) But just what we needed…We toasted in the parking lot and I actually think I got a little bit sick trying to drown the butterflies in my stomach.

Finally, we go outside and wait for the buses to arrive. There are six. Six white school buses carrying almost 300 of the last soldiers in our division to come home. As they pull up I seriously think I am going to have a heart attack.



He doesn’t know I’m here so he won’t be looking for me. We’re all screaming and clapping and waving flags and signs…they start getting off the buses and we’re standing there just waiting for them to come to us. I literally blurt out, “Screw this!” and start running (in heels) from bus to bus hollering, "Capt R!? Where’s Capt. R!?”

I get pointed in a couple of wrong directions and suddenly someone yells, “He’s behind you!” I spin around and before I can even blink he hoisted me up into his arms and I cry for a good minute.

I could tell he wanted to lose it. He wanted to cry all the tears he didn’t for the past year; for the soldiers (Iraqi and American) who were killed, for living in the suckiest of suck, for the time he missed with us, and the relief that it was finally over - but he didn't.

More pictures:

Kissing American Ground when they landed at the airport.

Trying on his gear

Reuniting Part I

I wrote this out and it was three pages long. So I’m breaking it up into days in hopes that you will read every word. :)

Reuniting after a 15-month deployment ranks up there with the birth of my children. It was better than my wedding day, to be perfectly honest.

The families were discouraged from traveling all the way to the place they de-mobed. It's in the middle of nowhere, hot as heck, and expensive to get the entire family out there for the 5-7 day process of making sure your soldier isn't crazy and that the Army gets the bills for all their medical issues.

Terry is not crazy but he is profoundly changed, mostly by what he saw and his living conditions.

The Army is responsible for his terrible hearing and constant headaches. Wait. Scratch that. The bottom feeding terrorists who put the IED in the path of his convoy is responsible, but the Army has to pay for the damage. His hearing is so bad in one ear he couldn't join the Army if he wanted to enlist today. He looks like an old man, cupping his hand to his right ear, squinting his eyes and saying, "What was that?"

But I digress. Back to the week - being the fiscally prudent person that I am, I put emotions aside and decided to wait for him at his home station (remember, we're a Reserve family so our soldiers are literally from all over the country). But at the last FRG teleconference we got the details on how they would arrive, where they would go and where the families who chose to attend would meet their soldiers for the first time - and I just couldn't stay home! I'm never one to miss a party and this was going to be ten times that. I decided I was going no matter what - and I was going to surprise him.

I called a friend who lives about three hours north of me and she agreed to take the boys. I booked a flight that night, reserved a hotel and a rental car and in the back of my mind I knew the Army would be true to form and change their arrival date. By that time it was into the wee hours of the morning. It was rash and unlike me to make plans spawned from a million emotions, but the vision of his surprised face and me jumping into his arms was irresistible.

And about two days later I began to panic. Rumors started flying.

"They're coming home on the 1st."

"No, the 31st."

"They'll be in Kuwait on the 31st but they could be there for four days."

"Santa Claus is flying them home."

Arrgggh! Who to believe? What to do? I agonized about whether to change my flights, hotels, cars, waxing appointments, etc. I asked a friend who flies for an airline that transports troops to HELP me. He was going to BE in Kuwait on the 28th, the rumored day that Terry would depart for the U.S. He called a friend to find out if they had flights going out that day. They didn't. I called one of the commander's on his cell phone (one of ten calls in a week) to dig for any morsel of information on when Terry would be in. He couldn't be sure either. Sigh.

Feeling stressed I go home and check my email. Terry wrote:

somebody wants us out of country. I am leaving XYZ tonight
(usually takes two days to get a flight) and they say we will be leaving Kuwait
tomorrow night...Conspiracy theories are running wild, they want to keep us from
hitting the 1 year on ground mark (makes us a little more deployable) I think
they are just trying to save money.

ALMOST HOME

LOVE

Yes!!!! I scramble to bump all my plans up four days, pack for me and the boys and grab my neighbor to watch my house while I'm gone - and I'm off. After about three hours of sleep that night I catch my flight to surprise Terry.

I overlooked one teensy, weensy detail - how to explain why I’m not home. He called while I was at the airport getting ready to board my flight. I lie my ass off as to why he can't talk to the boys and where the hell I am.

Told him I was going to see the shrink and the boys were going to daycare. Lies. All lies.

Our Hero is Home

HE IS HOME!

This was at their demob site, I surprised him there! He'll be HOME home tomorrow and see the boys...
Complete details in future post, but wanted to share the news asap!!!!

Tagged

Tagged by Christina

Five things in my purse wallet
1. lip gloss
2. money
3. pictures of my family
4. ibuprofen
5. chuck e cheese tickets

Five things in my refrigerator
1. milk (my boys drink gallons and gallons of organic whole milk!)
2. apples - boys' favorite fruit
3. grapes - same reason
4. string cheese
5. tequila

Five things in my closet
1.piles of shoes on the floor
2. boxes of heels I can't walk in but can't resist buying
3. Terry's old uniforms
4. a mirror
5. clothes - duh!

Five things in my car
1.Carseats
2. Wet wipes
3. About ten maps
4. napkins
5. CD's

I tag...Melanie, Suburban Joe, Julie Anna, Sweatpants mom

This is MY bubble

This is probably a mistake given I just had a drive by blogging yesterday, but I can't resist opening up my blog for comment on the Bush massaging/groping/rubbing German Chancellor Angela Merkel. If you haven't seen it on YouTube, all you're missing is 4 seconds of Bush awkwardly grabbing her shoulders i.e. the "massage" followed by her instantly tensing up her shoulders and looking like she's about to do the chicken dance.

People are making a huge deal out of it, but I just think it's hilarious...I mean you'd think he grabbed her butt and called her an old brod or something. Tacky? Yes. Sexual harassment? No.

Bush kissed one of the other wives at the Tball event we went to and gave me a nice side hug. It's a wonder he hasn't been sick half his presidency with all the "groping" his doing. He must be washing his hands a lot...:)

This is timely "news" since today at my "support group" (I hate that term) for deployed soldiers' wives, we learned about Iraqi culture and customs. One of the funny topics was personal space. The men kiss, hug, hold hands, etc. and will stand thisclose to you in person. I've laughed at Terry when he's on the phone with me and starts yelling at them to get away from him. It's like he's shooing a dog away or something. (I'm sure that will piss someone off. hehehe)
But I couldn't stop thinking about this woman in that very class who not five minutes before would take a step towards me every time I tried to back away from her stank cigarette breath. BLECH. (No offense to smokers, it just smells much worse when it's mixed with the remnants of your last meal.) I backed up into a couch and she didn't notice that I was leaning over the arm like a terrified limbo contestant.

How about you? Any invasions of your personal space or offensive action on your part?

p.s. I apologize for the Britney Spears overuse of quotes.

Job hunting requires actual weapons

Today, I spent 10 minutes looking for parking in a packed metro lot and resorted to stalking a woman to the point of offering her a ride to her car just to get her spot, opened my car door to a blast of air so hot it can only be described as the breath of Satan after a bag of Spicy Nacho Doritos, and thought, "If I turn back now, I can still catch the 1:30 of You, Me and Dupree before the boys need to be picked up." That was my mental state as I dragged my butt to a job fair downtown.

Today, I nearly went on a killing spree on the train. First there was the metro driver who was clearly testing the government's committment to never fire anyone. To add to this vomit inducing brake-gas-brake-gas ride two young women walk on hollering their conversation to the other five riders in our car. You know the type I'm talking about. They usually sit behind you in the movies and both talk on their cell phones the entire time. The cherry on top of this ice cream sunday ride into the city was a young man who announced his presence on the train - with drumsticks. He beat, rat-a-tat-tat on the doorway coming in. He tappity-tap, tappity-tapped his way to his seat before playing a full set on the window until the next stop. I turn my head and talk to my wrist, "Sniper, fire at will." (Actually I decided it would reflect badly on America in general if I did not survive a downtown train ride wearing heels and an Ann Taylor suit, while my camo-clad husband and his M-16 makes it safely back from war.)

Today, I met a man at the job fair. He's good looking and I'm already thinking about how to let him down easy. I learn his life story. He moved here for his wife whose family lives here and thought it would be better for their two boys (ages 2 and 6), and then she promptly divorced him. He asks why I moved here. I say because of my husband's job - and watch his reaction. Steady face, good, good, responds with an appropriate question to hide the dissapointment. Two incredibly beautiful women walk up to us. Both know him. Wow, this man has got GAME! And apparently his wife wasn't playin'.

Today, I saw a man actually reading the Art of War.

Today, I realized my apathy towards getting a job has crystallized.

21 Days until Terry is home and I will reconsider getting a job outside the home

My name is Monique and I am a HGTV crackhead

I started a 12 step program. I mean I formed it, and then became its first member. It's new, but I think there are millions suffering from my addiction - I Burn Through Home Projects Like Chocolate Covered Crack (Deep Fried.)

It started with a simple desire to have the home ready for Terry. Call it nesting. But replacing the lamp shade led to painting the side table, which led to realizing the matching lamp was still in the box (since Jan) which meant I needed to get another side table, which meant I had to move the plant, etc. etc., to the point that I no longer eat and I'm up till 2am doing the laundry that should have been done during the day when I was dragging my children to every home and garden store within a 20 mile radius twice a week (after swimming lessons of course.) Exhaustion and starvation forced me to look at my list and ask myself, "If I were a man leaving a year of 130 degree heat, doing his business in a bag, dodging snipers and IEDs, would I care if that particular lamp shade were 12 inches or 11 at the base?" Probably not.

But just to be absolutely sure, I asked him what his expectations were. This was his answer, "I want to not be constantly on edge for fear of my life. I want to eat steak and ice cream and drink a beer. I want to lots of sex. I want to sleep for 13 hours. I want to not be sweating my balls off."
And with that kind of eloquence he won my heart. Anyhoo...

To wean myself off the HG Crack, I made one last trip to IKEA to find an end table for that lamp. And while I swore to only buy a cheap end table that would be nicely hidden by the couch's extended, sloping arm, I ended up at the cashier with that, four seat cushions, four placemats, and a kiddie bench with room for baskets underneath. I put the cushions and placemats back. Progress!

A dearth of One interesting blog topics

Correction - This is worth mentioning Basic trainees carry legacy of Vietnam vets

I have nothing interesting to write about. Here are my options and none of them are appealing enough to spend brainpower on, tell me what you think:

• My broken vaccum cleaner and the anguish I go through in deciding whether to repair or replace.
• How tired I am of driving everyday to Gabe's swimming lessons, but how happy I am to see him enjoy and challenge himself.
• My perpetually filthy house and why I will have to hire help when we get a bigger place.
• The 10 mile run that have not been training for and must either start training for, give my spot to someone else, or eat $50.
• The diet I am (sort of) following and how after doing it for a couple of days my body rejected my favorite indulgence - nachos - and now my brain says no and my body says yes to more of them...er, something like that.

See, nothing exactly compelling...sigh. You know what that means? Pictures


This isn't Terry ( I don't think, that's not his wedding band), but it's a cool picture I found on my harddrive.

The day he left for war. If we knew what the next 15 months would hold, we would not have been smiling...strange to look back at what you thought you would think, do, feel during a deployment when you'd never been through one before. "It's only a year and a half. 15 is a small number, more than a dozen, less than 20. We'll just watch a lot of movies. He'll sit on a base and train Iraqis from the comfort of an air conditioned room. He won't have to travel. He'll be one of those guys on the news swimming in one of Saddams old pools." Right. But you know what? We're 27 days from over and his body and mind is pretty much whole. That's something to be glad for.


Back in the days of tank commanding. I think he wishes he would have remained in that branch...


One of my absolute favorites of me and Gabe when he was about 2 (self portrait)
And my fav of Ash...

Nothing goin' on here

Not much is going on here. Just housecleaning, decorating and checking tasks off the to do list that's been building for about 400 days.

30 Days till Terry gets home

July 4 2005

When I was thinking about what to write for the 4th of July, I realized that Terry was home on leave from training that weekend. We celebrated Gabe's birthday early, went to an amusement park and stayed inside for the fireworks. Actually that was our last night. He had to leave the next morning and we knew we wouldn't see each other until he was home on leave from Iraq. It was very emotional, but not as much as when he left back to Iraq seven months later.

So here we are full circle. Compare photos of the boys from then to now.


Ash Then (mohawk afro)

Ash Now (total 'fro and rooting for England)



Gabe then (somewhat toothless)


Gabe now (still somewhat toothless!)

And me? Well I look fabulously the same of course


July 2005

July 2006

Leave Bwitney awone!

I'm sorry, I just can't resist. She cries about her privacy and then poses nude a la Demi Moore.

"Take my picture!"
"No, don't!"
"Take my picture!"
"No, don't!"

Either you want publicity or you don't. Don't you think posing nude is going to bring unwanted attention from the Papparazzi?

And the other big news about Star Jones, (no pun intended) ? I was surprised to hear that she was being replaced by Rosie because frankly I'd rather watch Barbara Walter's bathe than watch Rosie on The View. Of course they'll have to change it to Rosie's View. Not that I watch that show anymore (Ellen is kicking their butts in the ratings I think) but really I think this whole mess is a little unfair to Star. Yes, she's an obnoxious diva but to tell her to lie about her departure then get pissed that she announced she "decided" to leave. And THEN replace her with another token black co-host who played a lawyer on TV? C'mon!!!! I'll tell you one thing, I'll be watching NBC in the mornings. I miss Meredith :(

And now I'm part of the machine....

But just to prove that I'm not entirely shallow, I just scored 95 percent on the "Could you pass the U.S. citizenship test?" Whoo hooo. I only got #19 wrong, which, ironically, is "19. What INS form is used to apply to become a naturalized citizen?"

Ha!

My good deed

Well, school's out. Cry with me.

Having Gabe home all day, everyday, is fun for the first few days when you get to sleep in, but after getting up at the oh so leisurely hour of EIGHT O'CLOCK ( a whopping 30 minutes later than the school season schedule :) I realized that all I was getting was more mess to clean up after the boys made their own waffles. In the living room. With lots of syrup.

Gabe has swimming lessons for the next four weeks, four mornings a week and although they're not until 10:15, I still manage to be late. This morning I had a really good reason. I saved a turtle.

As we were driving off, only 10 minutes behind schedule at this point, I noticed a small turtle, strategically placed in front of a car tire. I immediately pictured the tiny thing getting crunched, and I kind of panicked. I slammed on the brakes and pulled to the side of the road. I didn't know the owner of the car but that didn't stop me from knocking on a couple of doors to find out who did.

First door, no answer. Second door, I hear a window opening. I look up and don't see anyone but I hear a voice, "Yes?" I'm thinking of that new monster house movie, but a turtle's life is at stake here! Cowboy up, Monique!

"Um, hi, I'm your neighbor," I stammer, trying to figure out how to explain why I'm apparently waking someone up from a drunken stupor. "Is that your Honda?"

"Yes," replies the voice.

"Well, this is going to sound strange, but there is a small turtle right next to your wheel and if you go anywhere, you're going to kill it. I just wanted to let you know."

"Um, ok. Thanks for letting me know."

Of course a normal person would just move the damn thing, but I am NOT an animal lover (not a hater, just not a lover) and especially not anything green, slimy or that I've recently pictured getting crushed into green slime. I know, I'm a big baby, whatever.

But I don't stop there. I see a woman smoking on her front porch and since she's the only one around I say, "Are you averse to touching a turtle?" (I know. I have such a way with words. I can't believe anyone ever paid me to write.)

I get the expected, "What the F***?" face and I quickly explain the question. She says, "No, but I know someone who will." And she actually called someone from inside her house, on her cell phone and had them move the turtle to safety.

Isn't that cool? Now I want to find the little punk who put it there and kick his butt. But I felt so good that even though Gabe was late for his lesson, we did something good. And I actually taught him something about compassion and priorities. That feels good.

How I will explain being late for the other 15 lessons, I don't know.

Meet the President? Check

Yup it's true. We were invited to the annual Tball game on the South Lawn and got photos, autographs and hugs from the president. (I swear, this is not a cutout. :) I only wish I didn't look so frazzled. My hair was a sticky mess by the time we met him and I had straightened it that day (normally it's curly) and the humidity did a number on it.


Gabe was asked by our group to present the President with a tshirt from the organization we were there with. (I was so honored by that request I couldn't believe they asked Gabey to do it. ) Gabe and I stood at the rope waiting for the President to make his way down the line and I was sweating like crazy. I bent down to Gabe and said, "Now remember, don't be shy, just say 'Mr. President, I would like to present you with this tshirt.' ok?" He nodded. I think he understood who this person was. So he walks up to us and my adrenaline just kicked in and I said it for him. I know, I know, I'm an attention whoring mother. I couldn't help it, we were so rushed and I was so nervous, but Gabe did hand it to him, the President said, "Oh, a tshirt" wondering who the hell we were and handed it to a secret service guy! :)

Then I said, "Gabe's dad is deployed to Iraq and he'll be home soon." Why did I say "Gabe's dad"? I don't know. I always say it like that, I guess I want people to see it through the eyes of a child without his father. Anyway Freudian slip. Then I asked him to take photos with us and sign Gabe's shirt.

What I WISH I would have said is, "Mr. President. Will you send a message to my husband Capt. R?" while videotaping and "Please get rid of the Widow's Tax" and "Please shorten deployments for Reserve component troops." But, like a job interview, I didn't say all the things I wish I would have.


President Bush was friendly and took every photo and signed every autograph requested of him, which wasn't many since it was a pretty small crowd being on the South Lawn of the White House and all, but it was scorching and he was sweating when he finally made his way back "home." I was disappointed not to get a photo with Mrs. Bush, I am just as fascinated by her as her husband :) By the time she said goodbye and I swung around to take the photo I only go the side of her face :(



The two inning game and meet and greet was followed by a picnic, "Refreshments provided by the White House" it said on the information sheet we were given prior to the event. A three piece Marine (?) band played cool summer music while we ate hot dogs, pretzels, peanuts, fruit, cookies and just about every beverage (non-alcoholic) that you can think of.

We also go to meet the lead pitcher for the Nat's, Mike O'Connor, and some of the staff at the White House.



Amazing doesn't begin to describe it!!! That's one item to check of my
"Things to do once in life" list. Don't get any ideas people, I'm not well connected or rich, just an average military family who got some good fortune thrown our way for a fun event. I should really buy a lottery ticket...

HIPAA my butt!

Am I mistaken or didn't Congress pass some bill that led every health care provider to ask me to sign a paper stating that I've "read" their 24 page, size 2 font privacy practices, in an effort to increase the security of personal health information such as what exotic diseases I may have had in the past or that I'm flagged at the ER for possible child abuse for the sheer number of visits I make there? Didn't they?

I thought so.

So tell me why a pharmacist would think it just fine and dandy to shout to me from across two counters:

"ARE YOU HERE FOR THE XANAX!?"
"Um, yeah," is my uncomfortable reply.
"The XANAX? You didn't pick it up last week?"
"No." I feel heat rising to my face.
"So you need to pick up the xanax? You're sure you didn't pick it up?"

I want to ask her if it's standard policy to let the entire store think that I not only have temporary psychological problems (there are only two pills in the prescription, which she also made known to the world) but I'm possibly an addict, trying to scam an extra dosage. Like your average sane person quickly evaluating whether or not it's worth it to pick a fight with the woman who controls my birth control and antibiotics, I decide just to pay for my XANAX!!!! and scurry home.

But it gets better. My copay is only 40 cents. I only have a credit card because I walked there in 90 degree heat, three miles, with Asher in the runner (so I actually do look like your sweaty, middle-class suburban housewife feening for a fix.) I don't want to use a credit card for a 40 cent transaction so I ask if they billed both of my insurances. Now I look high AND cheap.

I mention my other insurance, which requires my husband's social. So what does she do? Shout for it!

"So you're the spouse?"
"Yes!" I shout back.

"I'm an unemployed, overeducated housewife with a deployed husband who I depend on for life, limb, and healthcare! Are you happy now? Do you SEE WHY I need the xanax?"

Ok so I didn't say THAT. But I did give a really pissed off nod.

"What's his social?"

I open my mouth and think better. I push my military ID card across the counter and say, "It's on the back."

Turns out it's more expensive to bill both insurances and, like an erstwhile abs-of-steel popstar who broadcasts to the universe her downward spiral into Redneck-dom, she redeems herself. She walks around the two counters leans and whispers, "Just sign for it, you can pay for it later."

Aww. Thanks peaches. *Air kisses*

Gabe's questions

Tonight Gabe came downstairs crying. He said something about daddy dying.
"Why did you picture daddy dying, Gabe?" I asked.
"Because I was watching Asher sleeping and it looked like he was dead, and then I thought of daddy."

I just sat there and held him. I wanted so badly to tell him his daddy would come home, to promise him nothing would happen to him. But I couldn't, because it would just be wrong. He's too old for that. But too young to be thinking about death. What a terrible thing for a seven year old boy to think about. It breaks my heart.

The only thing I could think to do was to watch video and slideshows of Terry. He watched clips of them wrestling when he was home on leave. He laughed hysterically, as if he was playing with Terry right then and there.

I thought the moment had passed but then he asked, "How many soldiers have died in Iraq mommy?" I was not at all prepared for that question.
"Some have died Gabey."
"But how many?"
"Just. A lot Gabe."
"20?"
"No Gabey, more than that," I am wondering what to do. I really don't know what to say to him, he's never talked like this before to me. I'm trying to think how to distract him and I look for more photos.
"100?" I have a sick pit in my stomach at what two-thousand, three-hundred would sound to him. I know I can't continue this conversation.
"Gabe, Daddy is strong and smart and well trained. He's safe right now ok?"
We watch some more video and it's late. He has to go to bed. He has school in the morning.
"C'mon Gabe," I try to lift him out of the chair. He clings to me.
"Gabey, how about we find a picture of daddy for you to put under your pillow?"
"Ok."
We drag out the photo albums looking for a picture of them together. The first album we look at is from our college days. Then I start to tear up looking at Gabe as a baby, two, three years old.
"Why is daddy gone all the time!" he raises his voice. This anger has been creeping up lately. I say, "Gabey when daddy's not here, who is?"
"You."
"And remember when mommy was in New York? (grad school) Who was with you?"
"Daddy," he says.
"One of us is always here, ok? And soon we'll all be together again and I promise daddy will stay home more."

You know what's good about this? To see how deeply Gabe cares for his father and that he can give his emotions a voice. They've formed a bond that I hope will only get stronger when Terry gets home.

High, Low, High

I think I need medication.

Today was such a strange day, for no reason at all. Terry didn't call. Nothing major happened. I went grocery shopping and jammed to tunes in my car (that's "me time" these days) on the way from the commissary to Costco and suddenly in the middle of a song I thought about a conversation Terry and I had the other day. He said, "I can't wait to get back to my life again. I've seen people die, the faces of the dead, young kids too. I'm sure [a friend] would have loved to see his kids one more time, to kiss his wife one last time. I just know how precious life is now."

I listen in stone silence when he has these moments because I'm amazed that 1) he's actually been over there, and 2) that he can come back with such a positive attitude - to want make his life count for something instead of being totally depressed about it all. And when I think of these things, that men my age, Terry's age with kids OUR kids' age have died and taken their last breaths in such a brutal way, it kills my spirit. I have such a different reaction to his experiences. Not that he doesn't get sad, lordy he does, but I become momentarily paralyzed by the thoughts. I grieve for the men and women, and their families and it's hard for me to be happy and celebrate his homecoming knowing those who have lost so much and their lives have changed forever.

I wonder if I'll ever stop having these mood swings. I don't even know these people!!! I know of their families, but I didn't have any kind of relationship with them before they lost what they lost. I absorb people's pain like a sponge. I guess it's because of course Terry is still there. He's still not home and as much as I feel we are just around the corner from ending this - he's still there. And I think anyone whose soldier has been to Iraq or Afghanistan, etc, becomes bonded together by it. I've never felt like I belonged so much to a group of people as I have this year in the Army. You know how motherhood bonds most mothers together, as opposed to those who haven't had children yet? It's like that but stronger, for me at least.

So I'm at Costco and have another moment. Usually I avoid that place like the plague because when you walk through those large breezy doors that sound like a jet engine sucking you in, they laser beam a spending virus into your immune system. Suddenly you need a 60Gig Ipod, a grill that could swallow your kitchen stove, a hot tub, a loaf of bread the size of Texas and you somehow forget about the diapers you so desperately needed a year's supply of - so you have to back to get it and the cycle continues.

Anyhoo, as I'm pulling my hand away from the pack of 400 frames, I look around like, "Damn, American's have so much. Look at all the food, the gadgets, the WINE for goodness' sake!"[yum] - and I'm acutely aware of the disparity in the world (and how much we like to drink!). I'm grateful just to be a woman in America, to know that my ancestors had to fight for civil rights and freedom and I get to enjoy the bounty of it. So while I am sad (and depressed sometimes) at the unfairness of life, I also kick myself out of it, because what's worse is letting it hold me back and drag me into a hole.

Incidentally I have valium waiting for me at a local pharmacy. I didn't make it through my MRI. Turns out I have claustrophobia. Who knew? So the valium is supposed to help me get through it. I really would just rather be drunk. I can't drive anyway, why not make the most of it? :) Now that you all think I'm crazy...I'm NOT and I'm not really depressed either. I've made a lot of new friends lately and I'm still on a high counting the days till Terry gets home.....

Oh, and I downloaded the theme song to Team America. That always puts a good spin on American consumerism and war. It's so freaking vulgar...but so funny. We need to laugh at ourselves sometimes.

House cleaning sucks

This is what I did all day.



This is what my kids did all day (last year, but same actions)

Long day, long night

So another week of running around like a chicken, etc, etc. and tonight I am exhausted! We had a reunion briefing about two hours from where I live and there is another one near my home tomorrow, but I'm doing the childcare for it so I went to the OTHER one tonight. As much as they scared the hell out of us with visions of soldiers punching us out due to a flash back or attempting suicide - I'M STILL EXCITED AS HELL TO HAVE HIM HOME!

It got pretty sobering in there though, listening to the chaplain tell us what integration to real life will be like for them. They brought up things like understanding that they haven't had any real personal contact (or if they have they have a whole other set of problems :) in a year, so don't rush them, or the fact that American food will run through them after eating Iraqi food for so long, or just like not letting them drive too soon, or leave them alone with the kids right away, stuff like that. I don't think I fully appreciated what they've been through over there, even as a wife! It's so easy to get used to your normal routine at home that you forget how hard it is out there (well, except for the Fobbits, which Terry most certainly is not!)

Some of our guys have been through the shit and I'm worried for them. The Division that we replaced did have suicides when they got back. I don't take their warnings lightly, but if it's anything like his R&R I don't think Terry will be taking any swings at me in the middle of the night.

I had a good laugh when they said to keep them away from alcohol. Ha! That's like telling them to not have sex!!!! Puhlease! I plan to have the fridge stocked - the BEER fridge, mind you - ready for his drinking pleasure (0nly because I know he won't chug it all like he did the nights he was getting ready to go back to Iraq. Then he drank it all 'cause he knew I wouldn't and he didn't want it to "go to waste.")

I can't say exactly when he'll be back because frankly I don't know, I just know it's going to be soon ( as in, I could count the days in months, but saying "weeks" just sounds faster) and I can't wait to jump in his arms and know that he's out of that hell hole - and safe.

Wait, one more!

Sometimes it is so hard to get a photo of this kid. He can't quite smile on command...










That's the one!

Busy=important

I have been going 100 miles an hour since Memorial Day. I was determined not to spend it alone and sad, so we went to all the events we could handle.

Since then I've been living and dying by my "tasks" list on my Palm and it just keeps growing. When I've had a millisecond to breathe, I look around for more to do. I've stopped working out, stopped writing, and have been filling my days with everything from volunteering at Gabe's school to pack school supplies for Iraqi children, to finishing my Dreamweaver class, to coordinating this weeks FRG reunion briefings. Then I've had to catch up on my house cleaning, bills, personal hygiene, etc. When I look forward on the Palm, I see no appointments and I'm lost.

The strange thing is I feel like I have a purpose. I feel like I have JOB (that pays zilch by the way) but I'm exhausted - and strangely fulfilled. Gabe had three baseball games in the past four days. That alone has drained me.

Why is it that if we are busy we feel better?

For the longest time in this deployment the days just blended into each other. Now I'm energized by the busyness, probably because it's not just busyness. Would you believe I've put in about 150 volunteer hours to the FRG? That's really picked up because we're getting ready for the homecoming and people have questions and meetings, etc. Anyway, I do feel like it's a job. Even if I don't get paid, I know I've done some good and found some families that otherwise would have had no information source about this deployment. That's the Reserves for you [shaking head]

But I'm ready for it to slow down now. Gabe needs lots of reading help this summer and I want to spend my last few weeks as their only parent with quality time. I will be a tad sentimental when this ends because I've formed such a bond with my boys. Of course on nights like tonight where we had a baseball game last until 8:30 and they both needed baths and Gabe had chores to do...I'll be happy to have someone else do all that!

Terry's sixth sense

I have a story for you.

When Gabe was five years old Terry dreamed Gabe had a heart problem. The next morning at Gabe's five year check up, the doctor heard a heart murmur. It turned out to be nothing serious, but when I called Terry at work to let him know we had to go in for an echocardiogram he fell dead silent. He asked if I was kidding. I said no and asked him why would I joke about that and what was wrong with him. He told me about his dream and I got really scared. He called Gabe's doctor and wanted to know everything, even telling the pediatrician about his dream (and assured them he was not insane).

Prior to this he had another dream "come true." That's now two specific dreams in a year that had hinted at an experience that would occur next morning.

This morning I woke up to an early call from Terry. He said, "Something bad happened." I immediately sat up and asked him what. He told me what happened, which scared the hell out of me but was glad to hear he was fine, and he said, "I had one of my dreams." I wasn't following. He spelled it out, "I had a dream about [situation in war that had just happened] and it came true. It was so vivid, I knew it was one of my 'dreams.' "

In his dream he had run out to give support in a firefight and forgot his gear (all I'm thinking is - body armor, body armor, body armor.) There were other details in the dream, but the point is that I realized that the dream may have saved him. It made him stop and make sure he had everything before going to do what he needed to do.

I got a little crazy and started to cry. It was a terrible reminder that he's still in danger and people lunatics spend their days thinking about how to kill him and the rest of our troops. But my sense of humor was not wounded, "Please don't ever tell me if you dream about me ok?" I asked.

So, three times is a charm. My husband has a sixth sense. Now if only I could get him to read my mind...

Memorial Day Weekend

I never knew these men, but their names and pieces of their lives have crossed my path in one way or another since my husband deployed last year. The point is they became people to me, not just names in a paper or on a casualty list. They had lives, all had children and people they loved and loved them back and they gave it all up.

Today I will remember:

Sean Sims, Heidi and Colin

Tom Wren, his wife and children

Tyler Swisher, his wife and children

Robert Hernandez, his fiancee and children

..And all the soldiers and families they represent who paid the price...If you're not a military member, or heck even if you are, stop and think today about these people. Forget any issues you have with Iraq, it's not really about just this war, I mean, these men dedicated their lives to their country. They stood up and offered up the risk of death so the rest of us could go to parades and eat bbq and take an extra day off work. They signed up for whatever would come this country's way of freedom and safety. I think we forget that.

***********************************************

Terry will be home soon and I sat at a table for him at church, to recognize the soldiers home and overseas in honor of Memorial Day. I felt terribly sitting there eating good food, making new friends when I know he is hot, dirty and missing his children. It's grossly inadequate to say thank you, but I do, thank you.

********************************************

Today Gabe had a baseball game where he struck out every time at bat. There is nothing harder than to watch your child feel discouraged. I felt awful for him! But he handled it well, a true sportsman. Then he and his clone (baseball friend born ten days after him and new BFF) played hours of Xbox until clone friend's mom showed up and we took off to see the Godspeed, a replica of one of the ships the original Jamestown colonists came in on. I gotta say you could have never EVER gotten me on one of those ships. They had like a shoe box to put there stuff in and had to share a square foot of space for months not for a land flowing with milk and honey, I mean at least the Israelites had a promise to look forward to when they crossed the desert, nooooooo, the colonists got to starve, freeze and fight Native Americans. Can you imagine leaving everything you know for a god-forsaken land? (At least to them it was, not to offend and Native Americans) Why did they do it? I wonder sometimes what I would suffer that much for. What would it take for me to give up everything and everyone I loved?

Tomorrow I am off to the O' Club for swimming with my new Army wives (and our brood of children; 5 months, 1, 2, 4, 7, and ten! ) with hubbies away and then we may make the trek into DC for the big concert broadcast on PBS. Monday we'll be back in the city for the parade and some museum trips. I'm excited to show my new English Army wife (she's English, he's American) around the Metro system and pick her brain about England.

**********************************************************************************

A general spoke at my church event and I have to say this before I finish the point of bringing up his attendance. He is a higher up, Pentagon official with a large role in directing the war on terrorism - and goes to my church! Who knew? I naively thought that after I was pointed at as being one of only two women at this dinner whose husbands were deployed, that he would say something to me. Anything.

"How is your husband doing?"
The truth: tired, wants to come home, smelly, and proud to do his part.
What I would have said: "Proud to do his part (smile)."
Or,
"How are you?"
The truth: tired, wants husband home, smelly and packing the weight on from eating late night snacks to fill the void that my husband created when he left :)
What I would have said: We're hanging in there! (I really don't believe in blatantly lying to the decision makers in the military, but I can't bring myself to say what I really think either.)

But he didn't.

Anyway, he spoke at my church's event and read these words from a letter that Lincoln wrote to a woman who was believed to have lost five sons in the Civil War. You may recognize it from the movie Saving Private Ryan ( I did) but you may not know that the woman actually lost two sons and others deserted or were honorably discharged or captured by the enemy - and she was a Southern sympathizer. I'll let you draw your own comparisons to a certain modern mother. It's interesting to say the least. Google the "letter to Ms. Bixby" to read more about it. Of course I am probably the last person to know this Wikipedic fact and the next thing I'll learn is that Al Gore actually did invent the Internet.

If I may be so bold as to borrow the words of this letter to express my condolences and appreciation to those soldiers and their families, and who better than Lincoln to attribute it to (though that is also debated):

I feel how weak and fruitless must be any word of mine which should attempt to
beguile you from the grief of a loss so overwhelming. But I cannot refrain from
tendering you the consolation that may be found in the thanks of the Republic
they died to save.

I pray that our Heavenly Father may assuage the
anguish of your bereavement, and leave you only the cherished memory of the
loved and lost, and the solemn pride that must be yours to have laid so costly a
sacrifice upon the altar of freedom.

Support Military Surviving Spouses Equity Act

Will you take five minutes to cut and paste this letter into Word to support the families who lost their soldier in Iraq or Afghanistan? Go to http://www.house.gov/ to locate your local rep. Put in your zip code. It will find your rep and you can click on the name to his/her webpage where you can get their address.

We shouldn't wait to experience this kind of loss, to care enough to do something about it...

Here's the letter, tailor it if you want:


Over the past three years, members of Congress have made statements of support for our troops and their families. Now is the time for action!

Since the start of hostilities in 2003, over 2400 of our servicemen and women have been killed in action in Iraq and Afghanistan, this represents over 2400 families that have been left grieving and wondering what the future holds for them.

Many of these families are now living below the poverty level on limited income they are receiving from the Department of Defense (DoD) and the Department of Veteran’s Administration (VA).

The monthly payment from the Department of Defense is called the Survivor Benefit Plan (SBP), while the monthly payment from the Department of Veteran’s Affairs is called Dependency and Indemnity Compensation (DIC).

For every dollar of DIC the families receives, a dollar of SBP opportunity is stolen from their futures and their children’s futures. The families of our servicemen and women who have made the ultimate sacrifice deserve better. These families deserve both DIC and SBP for their sacrifices and losses in support of our government and the American way of life.

I strongly encourage you to support these fallen hero’s families and vote in favor of House Bill 808 (H.R. 808), sign on as a sponsor, and demand that the offset of SBP by DIC be eliminated, when House Bill 808 is reconciled with Senate Bill S.185.
Sincerely,
Your Name and Address

For all my (mommy) girls, etc.

Continuing with my parenting theme...

If you want to feel like you're a good parent or at least normal, go to Dr. Spock's Ask Our Experts page. Once you read scenarios like this you'll feel like Mrs. Cleaver:

• Seven year old secretly wearing baby brothers diapers
• Nine year old threatening to kill herself
• Child bites himself after punishment

Not to make fun of these people's problems, but really, it puts things into perspective when I worry that Gabe plays too many video games. (Actually I just blame his father.)

But it does remind me of how hard parenting is, even if you don't have a child with Tourettes...no really, I mean it! Sometimes there is no one to help you with the everyday questions like how to get week old milk out of the carpet, or if taking money from your kid to pay for lunch is stealing.

Ok really, I think about the fact that the only vegetables that I can get my kids to eat are carrots and broccoli and some days they don't get any veggies at all. Gabe does play way too many video games and Asher watches so much TV he thinks he's a Teletubby. Gabe is actually so smart he's been put in gifted classes for next year, and Asher, well...my mom says I was talking in full sentences when I was two. Asher is 2 1/2 and his newest words are: "shake a booty." Not exactly a full sentence. He doesn't know any of his ABC's but he does say, "seven, seven, seven we we practice numbers, that's progress right? RIGHT?

If I were to submit questions to Dr. Spock these would be the ones. But I'm curious what you moms have to say...

• Discipline - I can't think of any other disciplines besides time outs, regular beatings (I kid), and taking away TV, Xbox, Computer and I don't know that any work...and how do you discipline a two year old anyway???
• Food - I need some healthy snack ideas. How in the world do I get my kids to eat vegetables!!!
• Bonding - I take Gabe on a date every month, but I'm worried that when Terry gets home, I'll be so uncool 'cause dad's going to play games and wrestle with him. How do moms and sons stay close?
• Friends - should kids Gabe's age have co-ed sleepovers? Should they have girlfriends? (I said hell no to that one)

P.S. Random story not related to this entry:
The other day in the McDonald's drive through (Hey! We get chicken nuggets!) I heard the guy in front of me at the cashier's window say, "...wife in the car behind me." I pull up to two women hiding smiles.
"Did that guy just say I am his wife?" I ask while looking to see if he's cute. He's not.
"I don't want to say..." the older cashier says, still smiling.
"Well, maybe you could tell him he's got two kids," I say nodding my head at my boys in the back seat with a wry smile.
"And one in his car too!" the cashier jokes with me as I drive off, laughing.

P.P.S. Oprah's Legends Ball:
Does anyone plan on watching this ego fest? Frankly I'm a little disgusted by the idea of broadcasting to the world how fabulously rich and successful people she and her friends are. If we want to hear about success make, "My American Journey" your next book club selection. And I like Oprah. She's generous, kind and accepting of everyone from two legged dogs to gay NFL players to plastic surgery addicted mothers. But please, please don't deceive yourself, Oprah, into thinking average American's want to watch a "Legends Ball." We already have the Oscars and we can barely choke down our popcorn during that one...

Papa Bear

I saw the coolest thing tonight.

I was leaving the video store where I wander like a sad little puppy on the weekends, pretending to look for a video, but really hoping some young, vibrant woman my age will say, "Hi, wanna be friends?"

As I was leaving with two movies in hand I saw a group of three thuggish looking teenagers, perhaps 16 or 17 years old, clad in black and white (which I assume was some sort of wanna-be gang affiliation, they actually looked way too wealthy to be "real" O.G.s).

They're laughing, listening to their iPods, (Eminem I assume), and suddenly one gets close to this car parked by the sidewalk they're walking on. I can't hear anything because I'm too far away, rubbernecking while I strap Ash to his car seat. The teen is getting all aggressive with whoever is in the car. I squint my eyes and see a young man sitting in the passenger's seat.

Suddenly, this grown man comes out of nowhere, grabs the little thug by the neck and fakes like he's going to bash this kid's head in to this pole. He won't let go of this kid and finally shoves him back. The kid is actually taller than this guy, but this man is obviously the kid in the car's father and he is NOT having it. The other two friends are shocked. One is standing kind of close like he wants to do something but not sure if he should. The third one is standing way back just watching. After several tense minutes of the father staring down these kids, stepping closer and closer to get them to back away, they finally do, spewing obscenities and flipping the bird. The man walks back into the store, but he's watching the whole time.

I say it was cool, because there was something so primal about a man defending his child. It didn't matter if this kid could have handled it himself, he was threatened and the father threw down! I wanted to call out, "Go DAD!" - and then call the police on those kids.

It also taught me that fighting is ugly and rarely worth it. Kill 'em with kindness is my new motto. Ironically I saw this guy in my neighborhood when I got home, who got a little to aggressive with me and whom Terry had to call from Iraq and threaten to stay away from me :)

This is all about a fictional world called Grey's Anatomy

Spoiler Warning

I just watched the finale.

I've been crying for ten minutes.

I never cry about TV. Ever.

For those of you that don't watch, you are missing out on the best fictional show on television. Any show that can make fictional people so real and use life themes, streeeetched a bit, but still poignant...all I could think of is finding that one love that makes your head spin and losing that person. Random rambling thoughts will now follow:

I'm pissed at who they killed off, I don't even want to write it. He is the patient-who-shall-not-be-named. Katherine Heigel (spelling?) is the most amazing actress, I hope her career expands to the big screen, she's amazing. Who would of thought that "My father the Hero" star would get here? Amazing.

I am sick and tired of Derek and Meredith. What they've now done is unforgiveable. If the writers were trying to make us love Addison, they have succeeded. She has now become the victim in this love triangle. I admire her balls to come back to the husband she cheated on and face the music and take all the humiliation in getting him back. If Derek didn't want to be with his wife then his chance was waaaaaaay back when she put those divorce papers in his hand. Meredith is going to break the Vet's heart and his heart has been broken and smashed to smitherings already. How can they do this to him!!!! They are like sick, twisted Voodoo doll controllers when it comes to the Vet and Denny.

George and Callie's love thing scene was completely akward. She could probably take him in a fight and that's just not sexy. Sorry. Although she is really pretty. I love her face and hair and all but the full body shots with them. Yeah. Might wanna rethink those, producers/directors. But as far as their relationship, I'm not feelin' the whole "You rock my world George" and George saying, "You have to love Meredith even though I hate her, if you want to be in the family." Screw Meredith, I'm still pissed at her for what she did to George. Crying during sex and asking him if he's done is just about the most humiliating thing you can do to a person. Ask my husband.

Kidding!

Let's see who else do I need to offer my unsolicited opinion on?

Oh, I la la love "The Nazi." She does angry/strong/funny woman very well. And Burke is right up there with Denzel on the eye candy scale. People really underestimate Karev, I see him getting back together with Izzie now that, well, I can't talk about it I'll start crying again.
And now I'm adding the Grey's Anatomy writer's blog to my sidebar. *bowing before the writers*

Me, manic Monday morning and mentally mending

What I've accomplished by Monday 11am:

• Get child off to school on time
• Check mailbox
• Read overdue bills from dentist and get angry that they don't know how to bill an insurance company, call and leave message
• Read letter from Bassett Furniture after five phone calls and one letter to get my $800 chair repaired. (Note the typo. They were so quick to fire off this letter after they decided they didn't want to foot the bill to move the chair since it can't be repaired in my home, they didn't even bother to spell check the document):

Our technician was out to your home on Arpril [sic] 13, 2006. His inspection of
your chair found it to be heavily used with spills, etc. The seams of the chair
are pulled out of place causing the fabric to separate. Based on the above
information, we will not be making any repairs to your item.

This is the chair whose seams they won't repair -

Filthy huh?

• Call JAG
• Speed to JAG office
• File paperwork for Attorney General's office.

What I've NOT done:

• shower
• use bathroom
• eat
• exercise
• breathe

I think I need to get my priorities straight! And I sure do hope that this is not foreshadowing my week. I have an MRI on Thursday so I hope this is not a week for bad things to happen. I need it to be a goooooood weeeeeeek, with ggggoooooooooood neeewwwws! (Don't worry I'm not seizing or anything, it's probably just stress but the neurologist wants to rule out my fear - MS. it was kind of funny actually, she goes, "Ok, what are you worried about?" I said, "MS." And she was like, "ok, let's do the tests so you can stop worrying about that." I made the mistake of Google-ing my symptoms and multiple sclerosis was what popped up. It was just amazing to me that she not only listened to me, but did exactly what I wanted to do. I was crying when I left her office and she gave me a hug. How many doctors double as counselors? )

In other news, I spent Mother's Day curled up like a baby on the couch, downing Sudafed and blowing my nose. It must have been the flu because there wasn't a spot on my body that didn't ache. My children ran amok, and the house was destroyed, but I managed to get us all fed even better than normally because I was like, "Ok, I'm sick but I can't let my kids starve" so each meal hour on the dot I would peel myself off the couch and make something edible. By the evening I was feeling much better and my mom and sister called to say Happy Mother's Day, which made me cry because I miss them and my mom was crying cause she wished she could be here to help me and we had to turn off the waterworks or we would both be depressed :)

Feeling better I cleaned my entire house. I even did all the laundry! I had an urge to get it done before Monday, which, haha, turned out to be a good thing. I also had an obsessive compulsive urge to do all the laundry so I could finally solve the mystery of the ten unmatched socks on my kids' dresser. I know. I need help. :)

I forgot Survivor was on last night, but thank goodness I Tivo'd it a long time ago so don't tell me who won, I need to watch it. I was FREAKING OUT watching Grey's Anatomy. Anyone watch that show? Izzy? Denny? the heart transplant? the shooting? Oh dear lord can I grow up and write for that show!??!! No one better call me tonight unless it's the rapture 'cause I'll be chained to Grey's to watch the second half of the finale.

So I'm really happy that the illness was short lived and I'm just hoping I didn't pass it to the boys. Crossing fingers for a good week!

Military Spouse Appreciation Day

She said "Some days I feel like sh**,
Some days I wanna quit, and just be normal for a bit,"
I don't understand why you have to always be gone,
I get along but the trips always feel so long,
And, I find myself tryna stay by the phone,
'Cause your voice always helps me when I feel so alone,
But I feel like an idiot, workin' my day around the call,
But when I pick up I don't have much to say,
So, I want you to know it's a little f****d up,
That I'm stuck here waitin', at times debatin',
Tellin' you that I've had it with you and your career,
Me and the rest of the family here singing "Where'd you go?"

I got this new song thanks to Julie Anna. (You can hear it on her blog) Perfect timing too, 'cause it says exactly what I feel right now.

I'm angry because I'm tired. I have been surprised at the energy it takes to get through the day. The toughest part lately has been bed times. I spend at least an hour putting Asher back in bed. (I hear thumping and jumping as I write this) He shares a room with Gabe and now that he sleeps on a real bed it's easy for him to creep down the stairs and sit there until he is discovered. Tonight he was discovered when I sneezed and a little voice from the stairwell said, "bess you mommy!" It'd be cute if it wasn't that night time is MY time if you know what I mean.

Yet, every night I take the time to recognize that we are one day closer to this ending.

Friday is Military Spouse Appreciation Day. As a Reservist the biggest sacrifices were time he spent away on drills, inhaling the musty BDU smell hovering in the center of the living room where his gear was dropped, and sex. But every woman has to give in once in a while, right ;) Now that we're active and deployed...this day means something new entirely. Mil spouses are appreciated not only for the sacrifices made, but the power we hold as motivators or distractors. I've been both during this deployment.

If JJ Abrams or M. Night Shama-lama-ding-dong had my kind of thinking time they'd be cranking out ten plot twisting, hair-raising screenplays a year. Naturally that kind of time drags the waters of the mind for emotional baggage. And then you have to sift through the wreckage to determine what issues are legitimate and what can be drowned by a gallon of ice cream. I haven't eaten much ice cream lately.

So, here I am feeling like a bad person for not being able to sustain happy joy joy conversations anymore and letting my frustrations fly over the sat phones. I'm sorry for that.

A reporter interviewed us about what military families are like today. Did I already mention this? Well, after the interview I was compelled to email the reporter later. I said, the truth is that most of the wives I know have struggled with depression and we don't like to talk about it.
Several take antidepressants. I've opted for counseling and excercise, but I have the list of licensed prescription writers on hand in case I can't shake it. Now, I think that is a very personal decision, but I feel such a stigma when I even consider it. (I feel like I'm outing us as I write this actually.) We want to be the strong Army wife that becomes Superwoman when the man (or woman) goes off to war because we know that whatever we're going through, they are feeling ten times the stress and half the resources to get through it. So we feel guilty reaching for that help and admitting that we can't get it together.

So, to not end on a bad note, thank you to all the military spouses on the right side of my blog for making me laugh or cry, helping me to know that I'm not alone, and how proud I am to be part of our special sorority. Some I know have made the ultimate sacrifice and nothing anyone can do can make it better, but I appreciate you also, you know who you are. You've displayed to me a new meaning of grace and strength that I am constantly humbled by.

Send Terry a message

This post will stay at the top for a while, check below for new stuff, if you're interested...

At the risk of showing that my husband is human and not an invincible warrior I'm asking that you all send him a positive message in the comments area. He's getting close to the end, but war has taken it's toll so tell him IT'S ALMOST OVER AND YOU'RE GONNA MAKE IT!!!

Terry, look beyond this, you'll come home and it will all be a bad dream. We love you and can't wait to see you.


Monique, Gabe, Ash.

My day

Mondays are always my chance to start fresh. If my Monday is good, usually the week is manageable.

Last Monday I planned to begin my training for a race I signed up for. I only had two miles to run. The night before I laid out my sports bra, shorts, tshirt. I woke up on time and had Asher strapped in the baby jogger. Just as we stepped off our porch I heard running water. I turned my head to see my neighbor's window open and water pouring into the basement. I figured a pipe had burst since they had just moved out the place was completely empty. I ran Gabe to the bus stop and ran back to try and stop the water. The front door was locked so I ran around the back and found the basement unlocked. I charged in and what I saw took my breath away. The carpet was soaked, water streaked the walls, and I could hear it coming in from upstairs. I took the stairs two at a time and when I reached the kitchen I saw the faucet spun around to face the carpet and water pouring out. I turned it off and realized someone had done this on purpose. I ran back to my house surveying the damage all the way and called my old neighbor to let her know what I found.
"You might want to call your realtor and let them know"
"Call the police," she said, and gave me the non emergency number.
The police came, the contractor who was fixing up the house came, the realtor came, the neighbor came, my NEW neighbor came out of her house. It was crazy. Turns out there was water turned on all over the house, running all night long. I saw one kid sneak in the backyard the night before, a little brat who runs around the neighborhood throwing his used wrappers and Slurpee cups on the ground.

Turns out he and three other little hoodlums vandalized the house the night before. I spent all day talking to the police, doing my own detective work ;) and basically stood in awe at the damage that was done. My entire week was a mess because of that one day!

Today, after a short two hour delay I finally got on my treadmill and pounded out two miles. Then, I actually ate lunch (a rare event in my schedule) and met Gabe at the bus on time AND got Asher down to nap in time. Then, I completed one lesson and one assignment from my Dreamweaver class, something I was dreadfully behind in. And to round out the day, I actually made a delish fennel, thyme and red onion salmon dish, which Gabe found disgusting and Asher wolfed down. Kids in bed by 7:30. Doesn't get any better than that for me these days. Here's hoping it's a sign of a good week.

Deployment anniversary

Exactly one year ago Terry reported for his deployment. And I started this blog. I wish I could think of something beautiful to write, but 365 days of single parenting, worrying and counting days has kind of taken it out of me :)

I will say that it's strange to find that I made my life "normal" through it all.Today is a good example. It didn't even dawn on me that today was the one year mark until we were on the way home from the baseball game.

Today was Little League day at the Major Leagues. Gabe had a blast! We got to walk the perimeter of the field and have our LL division announced before the game and then he ran the bases (with about 10,000 other rugrats) after the game. We had only two other team mates show up but it was so much fun anyway. I got to speak with another human being who was not under the age of ten, which is always good, and thanks to my neighbor I didn't have to chase Asher all over the stadium, which was even better! I was bummed to miss SIX of Terry's calls though. With all the noise in the stadium I didn't even hear the cell jingle. :( I hope he reads this and knows that I'm not dead or anything!


On the big league grass


What's baseball without cotton candy?



running the bases

Random thought: Did you know that baseball games draw an incredibly diverse crowd? I saw a woman in very chic jeans, a cute, white top perfectly draped in a black pashmina, all perched on a pair of trendy wedges. And then I saw a man with a beer belly in cut off jeans and a wife beater. Now if that isn't a PR ad for affirmative action (and Extreme Makeover) I don't know what is.


Super Asher


And tonight feels particularly strange because my "wife" is going to see her husband on leave in Germany and she is not here for our Sunday night DH, Grey's line up :(

Got a busy week coming up...so it may be a while before I write again. But it's awesome to know that we're almost done with this incredible journey.