My heart is aching...

Thursday was a rough day. Nothing seemed to go the way I wanted it to. I put the kids to bed early and was relishing some time watching some TV I had taped while doing some work on the computer and enjoying a delicious sushi dinner. I spent a few minutes wallowing in the long hard day that I'd had. Children who didn't nap, taxes that took to long to complete and to top it off, cleaning up a bunch of poop. I realized how blessed I was that after such a rough day the kids had gone to bed early. I was heading there myself.

And then it happened. My day got worse. Very quickly. The news of the 7.9 quake in Japan (which was quickly elevated to 8.9) was bad enough. Watching the devastation and the fear and imminent deaths there broke my heart. But a large earthquake like that means a lot more to me now that it affects me personally. An earthquake that size most definitely means a Tsunami is likely. And considering that I can see the water from my living room window, I couldn't spend a lot of time sitting around and doing nothing.

That brings me to another reason why being a military family is different from being a normal civilian family. When you grow up in Nebraska, you hear the civil defense sirens and know that a tornado is threatening your county. That is, unless it happened to be 10:00 AM on Wednesday. When you're a military family and you move thousands of miles, the shortlist of natural disasters changes with each move. The ones you're used to really don't apply in each place. On the east coast you worry about hurricanes. The west coast has wildfires and earthquakes. And apparently, an island in the middle of the pacific has issues with volcanoes, sulfur dioxide air, and the aftermath of major earthquakes all along the ring of fire - Tsunamis. The thing is that when you grow up in an area you learn to stop being afraid of the natural disasters that are common in your area. You get used to the sirens, warnings and know that you're relatively safe even if the disaster threatens to strike. But when you move to new areas, you have to learn to cope with new, scary things that you aren't used to.

I am truly, TRULY blessed to live in a very close-knit community. We all watch out for each other's children and talk almost daily. If we don't see someone for a while, we check to ensure that things are okay. And because of this, even when my best friend is thousands of miles away, I have people I can lean on. People who have in just a few short months have become family. And so, when the earthquake hit in Japan, the word was passed quickly throughout the neighborhood. We all know that earthquakes, though far away can directly impact our area. When the tsunami watch was issued, we all talked and knew that should it become a warning, we would go somewhere together. When civil defense said it was "highly likely" the watch was going to become a warning, we had decided to get ready. So that if it became a warning we would be able to leave ahead of everyone else and avoid traffic. So, fifteen minutes before the first siren, we were already packing up, planning to go somewhere together, in the middle of the night, with all of our children. And when the siren sounded we were already well on our way to seeking safety.

My heart is aching for those in Japan who are dealing with the tragedy. But my heart is also aching with gratitude for a Great God who helped to place my family in this home. Aching with love for my neighbors who have stepped in to watch my children when others had to be rushed to the emergency room. We may not live in a brand new house, but we have a roof, walls and plenty of room. We have a view of the water in a wonderful area of the world where the weather is almost always amazing. We have friends for the kids to play with (and get hurt with). We have block pot-lucks and birthday parties. We have a community that is hard to find. So it was with great relief that Friday morning, when the all-clear was sounded that we returned to our homes. But the relief was not because our houses and our things were in tact, it was because our neighborhood family was.

And so it goes...

Or rather he...

Daddy has returned to the daily grind of sea duty, and with that the return to a lonely life of being a married single parent. We have been truly blessed and spoiled in the past few years having him home every night, in time for dinner too!

My lack of blogging here hasn't had anything to do with anything other than a lack of time to sit and do it while the children are quiet. I have continued to blog. In my brain. As I am vacuuming or preparing breakfast, folding laundry and going about my daily tasks blog posts arrive in my head. But I haven't been putting down the vacuum, waffles, or towels in order to blog at all.

Turns out, when you do that your house stays clean longer than thirty minutes. It might also have something to do with our wonderful neighborhood in which at 3:00 in the afternoon the children are set free while the adults chat and supervise the chaos. It isn't chaos. That isn't fair. There are many days where the children play in orderly groups in their games. They organize duck duck goose, hide and seek, some sort of medieval knight game that involves foam swords, shields and bicycles, and a myriad of other things. Some days, though, they look like a bunch of free electrons buzzing around the street and the cul-de-sac.

I can't believe how blessed we are to have such a wonderful place to live, with wonderful neighbors and the opportunity to enjoy it all -- even if Daddy isn't here to enjoy it with us.

The beginning...

We've begun the moving mayhem around here. Notice has been given, things are getting lined up for a very large, complicated move. Shipments going with different companies at different times to different places. It should be fun. Seriously.

Meanwhile, we are all trying not to die from whatever microbial organism that has decided to take up residence in my lungs. I'm not super happy about being kept up at night by an ugly green mucus monster. I've got two much cuter monsters who enjoy keeping me up nights without a third one moving into my body and making me sound like someone who has been smoking for 80 years.

Speaking of smoking -- it isn't fair. I smoked for a small period of time a long time ago, in a land far, far away. And I enjoyed smoking. Yes I did. It kept me skinny, because I was never hungry. Ah, nicotine. And while I didn't enjoy the residual smell, there was something in the initial scent of the cigarette first being lit that still gets me. If, somehow, I could have all of that without the stink that gets all over everything, and you know, the total destruction of your lungs, I'd probably think about smoking again. At least if I smoked, I'd have a reason to sound like I do.

In the meantime, I'm busy trying to de-clutter and organize our household. I'm trying to enjoy the last few weeks I have in New England, and the last few weeks I have with friends here (No thanks to the Mucinex Monster in my chest).

I hate this part of moving -- the organizing, the packing, the leaving, the un-doing of everything. I keep going with a smile on my face because I know in a few weeks a new adventure will start. In a short while I will be in the middle of my favorite part of moving -- the unpacking, organizing and setting up of our new household. I am trying to picture our new house, how our life will be when we get there. And that's what keeps me from curling up into a ball and hiding from all of the things that need to be done.

Things I think about that you don't have to.

The other day a good friend and I were talking about different groups we've joined trying to get social interaction for both ourselves and our preschool children. She had joined a group that was designed specifically for mothers who have children who are too young to go to school. I'm not going to name names, but you should be able to figure it out. She mentioned that the specific group she joined touted their 'welcoming attitude' toward military families. Then, she mentioned how when she joined, she was surrounded by a bunch of ladies who had all grown up in the area, never moved, and hadn't been very friendly to her. They weren't mean, but they weren't friendly either.


I know -- why do you care? Well, because this is something that most people don't get about being a military family. We have almost an entire culture to ourselves, because of the differences in our lives that regular people don't have to put up with. So many things that most people don't put up with we do without blinking an eye, or even thinking about. Most of them, in fact, we don't even notice after a few years. Ever since having that conversation about how she got the cold shoulder, I've been thinking about how different our lives must be, and how we don't even notice until we are confronted with it.



So I'm going to try something. I'm going to start telling you the ways that my life is different than the 'average' citizen of the country. We'll see how it goes. I'm sure I will be adding to it as we go. I don't want anyone to think I'm whining or complaining -- I'm not. I accept all of the parts of military life as just that -- part of our lives. This is a topic I've tried to write about multiple times, but haven't ever posted because I didn't want anyone to think I'm a whiner. Well, I am, but I don't like to whine when it comes to aspects of military life. I married into it knowing all of the ups and downs that were going to come along with it.



To the other military spouses -- leave a post in the comments about the things you notice about your life being different than the civilians you live near and around. And if I can, I'll try to post about it. Non-Military spouses, ask questions -- what do you want to know?!

Old House New House

When we were in California we were in a new house. I mean, probably only a couple of years old, new. Here in Rhode Island, we are in an old house, as in, probably more than a couple of decades old. I knew we would be in an older house when we moved here, and I was willing to "put up" with the inconvenience since we are only here for a few short months. However, after being here a week, I am thoroughly happy with our "new" old home.

Our "Old" New house in California was wired for Internet throughout most of the house, was beautiful on the outside, and was fairly new. It had a fenced in backyard and a huge front yard. There were power receptacles everywhere and had a decent sized pantry. And here ends the list of things I miss about our "old" new home.

Our "New" old house in Rhode Island has closets. Big Closets. Larger Rooms for the children, free heat, a SCREEN door on both the front and the back door, new Berber carpet that looks amazing, brand new windows all over, open floor plan, laundry room that has a Door! That can be Shut! and tons of shelving. HOT! water, and and free utilities. Our house is all one story, so toys can stay in the kids bedrooms! We are also getting to keep some of our rent money -- enough to pay for an amazing preschool that Little Monster will attend next week. There are about 5 nicer chain eat-in restaurants within a mile or so, as well as a few different fast food chains. And the clincher -- we get real cable. Not some crappy satellite service that is going to nickel and dime us to death. No over priced, under-bandwidth "High" (but really Low) speed Internet. Our cable and Internet package here is cheaper than just the satellite in CA, and we get our phone for free. We also get high definition signal and FAST FAST FAST Internet!

These things don't make up for the fact that I couldn't transplant my bible study group and my huge circle of wonderful friends, but they do make day to day life just a bit easier!

Welcome Home!

It is a relief to finally be in our new home. We are now nestled into our cozy house on the East Coast. It is very temporary, as we should be returning to the west coast soon. It is amazing to live somewhere we've lived before. Things have changes a bit, but it's nice to know where the good grocery stores are, be familiar with the local chains, and at least have an idea about where I am when we move to a new home.

We spent ten days in the truck traveling across the country. Have you ever spent ten days in a truck with an 8 month old and a three year old? It makes for quite an adventure!

We stopped in Las Vegas to walk the strip, do some people watching and eat at one of the buffets. After that, the real trip began. Up early, and driving late, it still took us ten days. Between stops for restrooms (gotta love being just past potty training!), nursing breaks, and plain old sanity breaks made the days go by quickly.

Some highlights of the trip:

• Las Vegas, and Treasure Island show: "There will be no pillaging of this booty tonight boys!" A show not meant for kids.


• 10 rest areas between Monterey CA and the eastern AZ border. 2 were open.


• I-10 in El Paso, TX is so close to Mexico, that one of our iPhones decided to go ahead and join the Mexican Cellular network. It only costs about $20/mb to send and receive data.


• Three solid days of rain. Rain at night. Rain during the day. Rain. Rain. and more. RAIN!


• Trying to hit up every Cracker Barrel possible for those oh-so-good biscuits and southern comfort food.


• Flooding! Flooding! Flooding! As we were getting ready to leave Texas, the roads started to get a bit waterlogged. We found that they had closed the interstate minutes after we passed because it was covered in water.


• We experienced the most complicated interchange on I-10 in Houston, TX.


• Driving through the swamps of Louisiana was an experience. Have you ever driven down there? That is definitely a new experience. We were grateful to have passed through BEFORE the Superbowl AND Mardi Gras.


• Stopped in Northern VA in the snow and let Little Monster throw snowballs. His first time being old enough to play in it!

After all of those, we hit DC and Baltimore. Two days after they were hit with three feet of snow. Pulling the fifth wheel. Imagine if you will, the worst washboard road you can think of. Then multiply that by 1000. We had a hitch haul, carrying the generator and an air compressor on the back. Note, the word "had." As we pulled into Connecticut for the coldest night of our lives in the camper, we were very grateful that we had made it without incident. The hitch haul had cracked and broken, but had managed to hang on until we stopped for the night.

We could tell we were on the receiving end of many heartfelt prayers, because we didn't have any car trouble, and despite all of the adventure, we all managed to keep our sanity, and most of the time our sense of humor.

The snow in RI held off long enough for us to park our fifth wheel at its new home a few blocks away from our house, and the ABF trailer to arrive. But, the second we opened the trailer to unload, the snow came down. We got nearly a foot of snow while we were unloading, though we were lucky enough to have several neighbors come out to help.

As of right now, we are mostly moved in, and enjoying being on the east coast. The person who enjoys it the most? Probably our daughter who got her first taste of Dunkin donuts and a jelly filled munchkin:

It's coming!

I grew up in a small-ish town. A town where when you went out to shop or eat, you were likely to run into someone you knew. It was annoying sometimes, but usually it just makes you feel like you're home.

Each time we move, I wait for the place to feel like home. Our house usually feels like home pretty quickly. I am quick to unpack and arrange, slower to decorate, but we know that "home" is where the family is. It can be in an apartment, a detached home, or between duty stations, our fifth wheel.

To get the area to feel like home, often takes quite a bit longer. Often, I have to find out where we 'fit in' to the community. We need to get to know how to get around the area without consulting maps, find our favorite restaurants, shopping centers, etc. I love it when I finally find that sense of community -- when wherever we live becomes like that small town I grew up in. I am always amazed when I start running into people I know when we're out and about.

I do get a bit sad, though, at the same time. Each time a place has become home, every time I start finding friends at Target, the grocery store and the take-and-bake pizza place, it means our time at that location is drawing to a close. It happened in Virginia Beach, and it's now happening here. Twice in one week I've been out and run into people I know. Are we really that close to a PCS? Where did the time go? Didn't we just get here? No. The area just became home -- I know my way around and friends are everywhere. The time to move is fast approaching. And although I'm excited about a new coast, a new climate and a new home, I'm saddened to leave another area that has become home.

June. What a month.

There has been lots of craziness for our family this month.

Shortcake will forever be known as Butterball. Or Little Ladybug. Either one. Little Monster still insists upon calling her butterball. Unless, of course, I actually call her butterball -- then he corrects me with her name.

Our home in Virginia has found new tenants, although it did take several thousand dollars in carpet and paint to get us to that point, I'm happy that it will have a family to take care of it for us until we can come back and fix it up.

Kleenex, our female dog, is no longer ours. It was a very sad and depressing few days for me. She wasn't handling the new addition to our family well at all and began shredding things. She shredded quite a few things, and had a few other behavior incidents before Not the Momma decided she probably would do better with a different family. I was sad, but happy she was possibly going to a family with older kids and a more stable, permanent home. Luckily, we are in California, land of the no-kill shelters, right? So, we dropped her off at the SPCA. The man at the front took her back for a behavior test, which she passed with flying colors. He assured us that she was cute and that she would be adopted quickly. There was even a family that was oohing at her as we were dropping her off. Two hours later, we got a call that she wasn't doing so well. The stress of being in the kennel was making her go nuts. She was growling, snapping, snarling and her hair was going up at the sight of everyone. They wanted to put her to sleep, or we had to pick her up. It was a very difficult decision, but we decided, after talking to their behavior specialist, that it was better for everyone if we signed the euthanasia paperwork. We told Little Monster initially that we gave Kleenex to another family, thinking she'd be adopted... But when we stopped by the SPCA later, he somehow knew (without getting out of the car and seeing anything) that we were at a "dog farm" and Kleenex was there. And was Daddy picking up Kleenex? He has done pretty well without Kleenex, and our other dog still seems content. I wish that stupid dog had been smart enough to look cute at everyone and be friendly so that she could have found a new home, but things don't always work out the way you want. I am not so happy with how everything turned out, being as Kleenex was really one of my children, but it was the best decision for our family. Being a grown up sucks sometimes.

We have had lots of visitors and guests here to help out since the birth. My mom and sister came out, which was a pleasant and unexpected surprise. Then, Not the Momma's parents came out to help. It was nice to not have to worry about cleaning or doing dishes, or dinner. My PWOC sisters brought us meals for five nights -- and did they ever bring us meals! We could have eaten for weeks with the amount of food we received. It is amazing to realize how many friends you actually have. Sometimes (this time especially) it's humbling. I think I need to be a better friend for the rest of our tour here.

We've even gotten our family photos taken. A photographer in our neighborhood was good enough to take them for us, and I think they turned out wonderfully.

The day Butterball was born, we were supposed to have found out where we'll be stationed next (after our short tour in Rhode Island). After having everything postponed three times, we finally found out that our new duty station will be in San Diego. I'm not CRAZY about the fact that San Diego is in California. But that's about the only problem I have. I'm excited to be somewhere warm. Not the Momma's job won't be the greatest, and it wasn't our first pick, but it isn't the worst job he could have. And once again, we'll be somewhere warm. Warmer than Washington, more temperate than Norfolk, and though we'll still have June Gloom to worry about, when I am missing winter, I'll just drag the kids to visit family.

Tomorrow Butterball has her 1 month appointment for a weight check. Hopefully that turns out well, and I can kiss June goodbye. We can hope that July and August and the months after will bring a bit less stress (of the unexpected variety, at least) with them. In the next few weeks I have some funny stories to share about how Little Monster is reacting to the new addition, and I'll post the entire birth story. Wait, have I done that already? Who knows. You can read it again.

Doing the "tourist" thing.

One of the great things about being married to the military is that we move often -- and because we're Navy, we're almost always on the ocean. And usually in some sort of a tourist destination. Sometimes it's a pain -- like from Memorial Day to Labor Day. But other times, it's awesome. Like when there are no tourists in town, because it's January. And then because you have family come into town (I swear that's the only time it warms up here) it's 80 degrees. And because it's 80 degrees, you feel guilty sitting around inside doing nothing, so you go on a drive through the rich area, with the golf courses. That place you never visit except when company is in town, because it's 9 dollars and some change to drive through.

What? You don't believe me? Here's proof of the weather, the sun, surf and just plain beautiful weather.

Were you expecting pictures without Little Monster in them?? Oh. Okay. Here's some pictures of the scenery. The first is of bird rock. Those funky looking lumps are sea lions and pelicans.

There. That's all you get. Now we're back to the cute. Plus, the short sleeves prove it is actually warm here.
And this one has nothing to do with our road trip, but the Zoolander pose cracks me up anyway.

Don't be too jealous. It will be cool, cloudy and rainy in a couple of days. And it will stay that way until sometime in October. While you are all basking in your springs, summers and swimming pools, I'll be sitting in my house, cuddled under a blanket while the fog rolls past my front door.

Complainers.

****Update 10/27. The letter was published. Just delayed. For what reason, I don't know, but it was posted today.******

There are a lot of complainers in this world. They are really starting to get to me. Do you want to know why? The people who are complaining the loudest, are the people who have NOTHING TO COMPLAIN ABOUT.

Some people in my neighborhood have gotten upset, because they have been told to remove political signs from their front yards. It is in violation of the lease they signed when they moved into our neighborhood, AND it is in violation of the rules the service member is to follow. (Basically military personnel are not allowed to post political signs at their place of residence if they live in base housing -even privatized housing. Any political sign larger than a standard bumper sticker is not allowed in their personal vehicle either.)

Someone said that it wasn't THEIR choice to come to here. It wasn't her CHOICE to live in housing. I disagree. And I told the entire neighborhood exactly how I feel. I am tired of listening to the spoiled people in our neighborhood complain about every little thing that has gone wrong.

If you are married to the military, you are IN the military, whether you like it or not. You don't have a choice. This is what I put up on the boards. I don't care who reads it. I will stand by my opinion. You always have a choice. ALWAYS. This was my response to the "I didn't choose to come here" whine:


Get used to it. Your husband is in the military. You don't have a choice in most things anymore. You think you have a choice over where you are stationed, but really, it is in the hands of the detailers and where the service member is needed. There are lots of people who live for cheaper than we do out in Seaside and Marina. They get better internet, but, like Chris I'd bet they have a sex offender living within three blocks.
NO matter what, you really ALWAYS have a choice. You could have chosen NOT to move to Monterey when your husband was stationed here. You could have chosen to NOT marry someone who was in the military. You ALWAYS have a choice.

There are a lot of things that are unfair about this neighborhood. I can't put a screen door on my house, we're not allowed to put ceiling fans in upstairs, no political signs, etc. But I CHOOSE to put up with those inconveniences to know that my neighborhood is safe for my child. I CHOSE to live in housing because the community was better than anywhere else we could afford.

Perhaps we should all take a look at what we HAVE instead of what we don't have and can't have. We have beautiful homes with loving families inside. Our bellies are full and we get to sleep at night without worries. There is job security in the military that can't be found in the real world. Many of our husbands will retire and collect a pension that can't be guaranteed in the civilian world.

It was in the lease that you signed when you moved in that you cannot put up political signs. If you don't like it-- you have the choice to give your notice and move to a different neighborhood.

It seems to me that there is a lot of complaining about silly things going on in our neighborhood. I can't say I never complain, but then I take a look around. We have more than 80% of the people in the military, 90% of the people in this country, and 99% of the people in this world. Take a moment and thank God for all that you have been blessed with. This home, this duty station, this life, they're only temporary. YOU have the CHOICE to be happy with it, or you can be miserable.

I don't know about you, but I'm going to choose to be happy with the knowledge that my husband is most likely NOT going to have to deploy while we are here. I am going to be happy because he is home nearly every night in time for dinner, with no worries about being called back. He doesn't have to stand overnight duty, we can make birthday party plans without worries of something breaking, or some disaster happening. I can rest in the knowledge that my husband will be home for the birth of my child, to witness its first smiles, first laughs and first steps. I choose happiness.

Which choice are you going to make?

So. Tell me. Is there something that you're choosing to be miserable about? Maybe it's time to give up that negativity, and CHOOSE to be happy about something else.

P.S. Not the Momma. I'm sorry. I promise I will try not to post things like that in public again. I know how you feel about it.

P.P.S. After all the complaining in our neighborhood about our lack of "free speech" the moderator denied that post. Or at least, hasn't posted it yet. I have not gotten an email from them explaining that it will not be posted, etc. So much for free speech, eh?

The Holiday Blahs

Ever since I moved away from our families, holidays have been kind of a let-down.

It all started with our first "married" Thanksgiving. I was very excited to cook my first Thanksgiving meal for my new husband. I spent days planning what I was going to make. Then, he came home sick from work on Wednesday. It wasn't your garden variety type of sick, either. The man had fluids escaping from every possible place fluids could escape from. I thought I was going to have to call him an ambulance. He was so sick that he could barely walk, and wouldn't have made it to the car. And, me carrying him? Well, that wasn't going to happen. So, our first thanksgiving was a bust. I made dinner on Saturday, but he was barely well enough to eat it, let alone enjoy it.

The holidays after that have been hit or miss. Christmas and Thanksgiving, we've either had family visit or have gone home every year, but the rest haven't been so memorable. Some holidays have been blown off completely. The others, we've tried to make a big to-do, but have always felt let-down by the end of the day. This Independence Day was no different.

We got up, and went to the grocery store because we were out of milk. Apparently, there was only one grocery store open withing 100 miles, because the entire Central Coast was there too. We spent $7 on a gallon of milk, because ALL of the other milk was raining from the cartons. We got sandwiches from Subway for lunch.

We then taught Little Monster how to throw pops and stomp on them to make them go. After nap time, the fog rolled in and the temperature dropped to about 55 degrees. We grilled hot dogs despite the cold weather and played outside, but something was still missing. Little Monster was in bed long before the fireworks. We were in our jammies watching Tivo'd re-runs of How I Met Your Mother when we heard them go off.

What a holiday, huh? I've always thought that when we had kids, the holidays would get better. We'd have a reason to do them up big. But, having a kid hasn't changed our holidays much at all. I think what is 'missing' is the fact that holidays were always big family affairs. Food and family, friends and games, and fun. So, the thing we're 'missing' here is the massive amounts of people. I think I'm going to start making holidays special. We will not do yard work or laundry. We will make a big deal out of them, and play and have fun. We will invite people over and have food and conversations. Because it isn't the DATE that makes the holiday memorable, it's what you do with it.

What do you do for holidays without family around? Do you blow them off, or do you do them up big anyway?

Happy Father's Day!

Father's Day. Not the Momma seems to think that it's wasted on him. But I don't think so. I watch him with Little Monster and know that he deserves something to show our appreciation of what a good Daddy he is.

When we grew up I remember my mom telling me that anyone could be a father, but it takes someone special to be a Daddy. How true is that? My father was never around, and judging by the times that he was, we weren't missing out on much. But my DADDY, I miss him. Every day. My Dad is the person who, even though he didn't meet me until I was a teenager, helped raise me. He taught me to change a tire. He had the patience to teach me how to drive. In the snow. And ice. He is the person who bought my first (and second) car. He is the person who spent hours laboring to fix them and keep them running. My Dad is the person that loaned me money for rent when I moved out and lost my job. My Dad is the person that unloaded an entire POD into his garage, and built a loft for all of my stuff when we lived with him while my husband was in Bahrain. My DAD is the person who said he'd never change a diaper, but did anyway when he met his grandson. My Dad has been there for me since the day he met me. I have no doubt, that he'll be there for me for the rest of his life. That's just the type of person he is.

I know that Not the Momma won't always be around like my Dad was. He won't always be able to be there for Little Monster, because his job will take him away from home more often than he'll be home. But, the difference between an absentee father, and a Daddy, is the desire to be around. Little Monster will not grow up wondering if his Daddy loves him. He will not grow up wondering why his Daddy isn't there for him. Because, even if Not the Momma is in some tin box in the middle of the ocean, Little Monster will know that he's loved. He will know that when Not the Momma gets home, there will be living room wrestling matches, backyard camping trips and Smore's on the grill. He'll know that if he needs a guy to talk to, there will be someone to listen -- even if it is by email. He'll have someone who will have the patience to teach him how to drive. On the ice. And snow. He'll have someone to teach him how to change a tire, ride a bicycle (perhaps even a motorcycle if the XY chromosomes in this household get their way), and play catch with. He will understand that quality time is what is important- not quantity. Little Monster will know, that even if Not the Momma isn't physically around all the time, when he gets on that boat and sails off into the wide blue, he leaves his heart with us.

For all of the DADDY's out there. Happy Father's Day. Always remember that anyone can be a Father, but it take someone special to be a Daddy.

Moving Mayhem.

Tonight at 6:30PM I had the following telephone conversation:

Me: Hello?
caller: Hi I'm *name* from Moving Company B. I'm calling about the packing you have scheduled for tomorrow.
Me: No. I don't have packing scheduled for tomorrow, I have packing scheduled for Thursday. Who are you with again?
caller: Company B. We're calling on behalf of Company C.
Me: I do NOT have any idea who you are or who Company C is.
caller: I'm going to make a call and check into that.
*click*

Why is that a problem? We have a pack-out scheduled with Company A. I called Company A to let them know about the mystery telephone call from a company I'd never heard of calling for a company I'd never heard of. I have been dealing with Company A since we first filed paperwork. Company A is the company the military told me would contact me. They didn't know why Company B would call me, but they did know that they were a legit moving firm that often worked with the military. What is going on? I don't know. The military liaison at Company A is supposed to call me back "first thing in the morning." I am not sure if this is a scam, or what, but calling someone at 6:30 really sucks, because everyone else has gone home. There was no way I could call anyone to confirm anything if I wanted to. Even though the person I talked to at Company A did tell me that Company B does a lot of military moves, I'd never heard of them, they are not who the military told me would be handling the move, nor was the company they had mentioned. Two companies, neither of which I know anything about, neither of which I have heard of. Needless to say, I'm a bit on edge about the possibility that someone is going to come pack our stuff and relocate it... somewhere other than where its real destination should be. Not to mention the fact that they're coming in TWO days to pack and no one seems to know what anyone else is doing.

Want to know the next wonderful thing I found out? Even though I had a conversation with the gal at Company A two weeks ago about how it would only take one day to pack everything, and they were going to do that Thursday, we are scheduled to have a pack-out on Wednesday and Thursday. I am not ready for a pack out. I could be ready by Wednesday, but that's pushing it. Not to mention that I had to ask for someone to come help watch the baby so that I can properly supervise the pack/inventory that needs to go on. I don't have anyone to watch the baby Wednesday. It's about 30 degrees outside, so I can't even let him play in or around where we'll be packing in the garage. What a MESS! At least I don't have to re-pack most of this stuff myself.

Yes, when you are in the military, they pay for the movers to actually do the packing for you. After all, you move A LOT. --My husband and I have moved six times. We moved in together(we moved ourselves this time). Six months later stationed in RI. Six months later stationed in VA. Six months later, we bought a house (Another one we did ourselves). 2 1/2 years later, we packed everything we owned into a POD and the back of the truck and shipped me home to Nebraska. -- The packing is nice, but it isn't like you can just keep on living, and have them pack. You have to get everything ready. They won't actually unplug anything, they won't take hazardous chemicals, etc. for obvious reasons, etc. Silly things that you think would be fine, but sometimes can be a hassle. Then, you have to consider how long it will actually take to get your stuff back. In our case this time, we don't know exactly where we're going to live. We'll probably end up in housing, but maybe not. So, we have to have enough stuff to get us through the week between pack out and leaving here, the travel from here to California, and the weeks we'll spend running around Salinas arguing about why I don't want to live 30 miles away from where Not the Momma works, arguing about why it wouldn't be responsible to buy a foreclosure and renovate it waiting to get into housing. Then there's the wait for the people to get off their duffs and bring us our stuff. There's a ton of politics and rules involved in that whole mess too.



To top it off, while I was carrying a box -- our big Dell box -- I fell onto a cement anchor with two one-foot pieces of rebar sticking out of them in the garage. This is only one of the souvenirs from that. I am pretty much bruised or scratched from the hemline of an immodest mini-skirt down to my knees on both legs, and down to the sock line on my right leg. That pic is from my right back thigh... About 4 or 5 inches below my derriere. The "plus" looking sign in the midst of it? I'm assuming that's what it looks like when bone stops rebar. That is how far the rebar actually jammed into my leg. It's probably a good 3 or 4 inch diameter bruise. It hurts badly enough that I can't put pressure on it when I sit down. I must look pretty funny because when I sit I try to lean a bit to the right but any time I try to cross my legs I mash a bruise on my thigh or my shin. That usually leads to some fun noises and commentary. Hopefully the baby doesn't start copying those words.


As if the moving, and the bruises and all of that aren't stress enough? I just had to register both of our vehicles, I have a to-do list about two weeks long, and three days to get it done... AND Not the Momma is coming home. He'll be home sometime Saturday (only 4 1/2 more days! DID YOU HEAR ME 4 1/2 DAYS!). Hopefully. If everyone actually does their job which, well, let's just say I'd bet they'll hear me scream 7000 miles away if someone screws this up and he doesn't get home Saturday. I'm really excited about that, but there's a bit of anxiety involved with that too. We haven't actually lived together for over 18 months. The last time we lived together it was in our own home and I was pregnant.. only sort of showing at about 19 weeks. Things have changed a bit, and that reunion, while it will be wonderful, is also a bit scary too... But that's a post for another day. Oh, did I tell you that I'll be kissing Not the Momma in 4 1/2 days? I'm not excited. Not at all. I just will be hugging and seeing and talking to Not the Momma in person in 4 1/2 days. And he'll be home for a little over two years... in 4 1/2 days.

Watch for rotten tomatoes as they're hurled towards me!

I'm having a bit of trouble today with this post. I've been agonizing over how to put this without sounding like a complete cold hearted witch. It's totally not going to happen. I'm going to sound terrible no matter how I put it, so here goes.

Last night I watched a piece on the news about a military family made up of two service members and a baby who appeared to be about a year old. They were interviewing the father because the mother was on deployment. They talked about how hard it is to be a "single" parent, even while you are married, the long separations, (that family had been together a total of 8 months in three years), how the child didn't know who Mommy was because she'd been gone so long, etc. It went on like that for a while.

I have a problem, mostly because they didn't point out any of the positives. Because they focused mainly on the negative aspects of being a military family it sounded more like whining than anything else. It sounded like "Feel sorry for us. Our life is hard." I don't think that most military families have the "feel sorry for us" attitude that this family was made out to have. I'm not even sure it was the family's fault. A lot happens on that editing room floor. I'm rambling now. I'll get to the point.

This piece tried to get pity from the public for the family. Military families don't want pity. We don't want people to feel sorry for us. I don't want you to look at me and say "aw how rough." It has been rough, but that's life. It's the life my husband signed up for. When we got married, I agreed to be a part of that life, and make those sacrifices with him.

I'm tired of the media making it out like we all want hand-outs and tears, because we don't. I'm not sure I can tell you what we want, but I do know I'm tired of getting that "poor you" look when people ask about my husband. I'm not poor, I'm not unloved, I'm not unhappy. It really sucks sometimes when he's gone, but he's doing it for a good reason. I hope someday I can teach my son that we don't get to be pitied because of what Daddy does for a living. We are just normal people trying to live a normal life, we are not better or worse-off than anyone else. We don't expect sympathy. We just live. Day to day, hour to hour, minute to minute.

I also have an issue with this piece, because they were trying to extract EXTRA pity for having a family with two military parents. If there are two military parents in that family, and they have spent 8 months together in the last three years, they should count themselves in the lucky few. Many families with two military spouses spend only weeks together each year, when they can manage to coordinate leave. They should be happy that they've gotten to spend such a large amount of time together.

My family, with only one service member has spent no more time together than they have. Our child knows who Daddy is only because we've worked really hard at it. I've flown half way around the world twice with the baby in order to be sure that the baby and Daddy get some bonding time. Daddy spent hours and hours taping himself reading stories so that I could play them for the baby in hopes that he would recognize Daddy when he came home, hoping that he would remember his face and his voice. Daddy didn't get to see many of his firsts in person either, but he's not going on National TV to complain about it. We have spent no more time together as a family than they have. Our lives are no different, but you don't see me calling up Channel 8 to tell them how rough I have it, and please feel sorry for my baby and I.

If you really want to know, my husband and I have been married for 5 1/2 years, but we've lived together for about 2 1/2 years; 6 months in Rhode Island when we were first married, and a few months together here and there for the rest of our marriage. I have spent most of our marriage alone, dealing with things on my own. I have replaced a kitchen floor, redecorated a house, managed to carry toilets up stairs, and install them, moved half-way across the country, delivered and raised a baby all on my own, and traveled half-way around the world and back... twice. ALL of that I did with help from friends and family, but mostly by myself. And I don't ask for pity. I am a stronger person for it. We have a friend whose seen his wife even less than Husband has seen me. I don't see her on the national news complaining. Another friend of mine has an awesome career, and if she wants to live with her husband, she'll either have to start over every time he moves, or give it up. A third friend is having to deal with trying to explain to her son about deployments because her husband has returned to sea duty. ALL military families do this. We all make these sacrifices without asking for anything in return, least of all, pity. It's just what we do. It's just who we are.

Oh, and the toilet? I did that one ALL BY MYSELF. And if you've ever carried a toilet, if you know me, you're probably laughing right now trying to figure out how in the heck I got the darn thing up the stairs, into our tiny master bathroom, and onto the teeny tiny little bolts in the floor.

More on military standards...

I have been informed that the tables I have a link to are old. I haven't found anything newer, but here's a better, more thorough website about the Navy Standards.

My husband is 6'5" and weighs around 250. I am 5'3" and weigh around 125. By Navy standards, in order to stay within regulations, my husband needs to drop to 216, losing 34 pounds. I, however, am allowed to GAIN 28 pounds. There is something a teensy bit wrong with their computations of body composition here. That is according to the height/weight chart. If we use their backup plan, my husband is still considered 40% body fat. Yeah. Right. They are full of shit. How do they compute that? They have a magic table. Yes, they measure the neck, and abdomen. Subtract the neck from the abdomen. Then they go to the height of the person, and going down will find the computed measurement. That number from the table is what the person's body fat is.

Want to know who else is "overweight?"

[picture of President Bush removed... 2/6/08]

Yup. Sure is! Does he LOOK overweight? I think not. He's one of the fittest presidents we've had! (This has nothing to do with my view of the bush. I don't really know how I feel about him at the moment...)

Someone who is NOT overweight according to Navy Standards...
[picture of chubby man in the military removed, 2/6/08] (notice his fat neck... that will compensate for any "spare tire" that is there..)

This guy probably wouldn't fit the standards:
[picture of Dwayne Johnson, The ROCK, removed 2/6/08]
I bet he's probably OBESE according to Navy standards!! I'd like to find out!

So, I guess what I'm saying is that it's a bunch of crap. I'm pretty sure "The Rock" does not have anywhere close to 22 percent body fat. I don't care that the military has standards. After all, if you aren't fit it isn't safe for you OR your peers... BUT at least allow the guys to go get calipered or dunked and get a REAL body fat measurement if the highly scientific military methods seem a bit off. I don't think that's too much to ask.

Oh, and if you happen to have or know "The Rock's" height/weight and his neck/abdomen dimensions, I would greatly appreciate knowing them.. Then I can find out what the Navy would consider his body fat to be.

Take a Stand Baby!

So, apparently my husband, who has lost about well, I don't know, quite a bit of weight since I met him, has gained body fat. At least that's what his body fat test that the military administers has determined. He used to wear a 42 inch waist pant. Now, he barely fills out a 38. He has to lose 30 pounds or 4 inches around his waist to meet standards. 5 years ago, he met standards in his 42 inch waist. For those who would like to say standards have changed, No. Not so much. For those of you who would like to say a 38 inch waist is still a Fat Bastard. Please send me your address so that.. wait, that could be mistaken as a threat. Nevermind. My husband is NOT fat. In my opinion, he never has been.. BUT he is now a very muscular (almost scary) hunk of man. How in the world the military has determined that this:




is too fat to be in the military, I'll never guess... Especially when I know there are some VERY ROUND people that pass just fine. How is this you say? The military uses a very scientific method of computing body fat. They measure your height. Then they measure your weight. Divide. Yay. The taller you are, the more fucked you are (excuse my language parents!). The taller you are the skinnier and sicklier you have to be. If, however you are 5'8" you can be nice and "thick" without any body fat issues whatsoever. In this photo, my husband probably is weighing in around 240 to 250. He is 6'5" and is no skinny wimpy twig. (yuck, I wouldn't have married him if he was!) If you fail the height/weight test, they do what is called a "rope and choke." They measure your neck and your waist. Then divide. That highly scientific method is the back up for the height/weight test. They currently do not accept caliper or other body fat computation methods. So, in otherwords, my husband (who in this picture has 40% body fat) needs to lose 30 pounds or 4 inches. How can he achieve that? Very simple. Give up food. All food. Yup. Perhaps liquids would also be a good thing to get rid of? He simply can't exercise more the guy works out every free second he has. I know, becasue he buys all his TV shows through itunes so that he can watch while he rides the bike, works on the elliptical trainer, etc. What can you do? Write your congressman and tell them that the way they compute body fat is antiquated. They need to adjust the height/weight or rope/choke standards for those people who are very tall.

Does the picture look like someone who needs to join a mandatory weight loss program? What about someone who should be reprimanded for his weight? I think not.

See this for more information about the standards in the military regarding weight, etc.

What? WHAT?

So. I'm not sure HOW MUCH about the Navy I'm allowed to complain about... But we are due to move to Monterey CA in about 90 days. Three months. We have September, October, and November. Mid-December is when we should be moving. Do we have orders? No. Do we have hopes of orders? We thought so. Until my dear husband got a call from his detailer asking for his "emergency contact" information. Usually they only ask for that if they are about to make modifications to orders. In a bad way. Like, we WERE going to send you to beautiful Monterey for two years of college and a Master's Degree. BUT someone said you were too good at your job where you're at. Your stuck buck-O! Okay, so perhaps I'm going a bit overboard. Things I need to think about.

1. Some Detailers are stupid. This guy may have just thought he needed that stuff to write the orders out.
2. You have to HAVE orders to before you can MODIFY orders, right? Since he doesn't actually have orders, they can't actually change them...

In other words, once again, we have no freakin' clue what the heck is going on. We don't know where we are going to be living in six months, and we have no idea what to do about it. Only this time, there are 7000 miles between us, and it kind of sucks.

Note to my husband: (who may or may not be reading this.) Please do not feel that because I am blogging about this that I am suffering undue stress. I realize you weren't going to tell me about this because you think I stress. Virtually no one reads this (except people I know) blog, so there's no worries. I like to vent. And Dramatize. So stop worrying about me. Keep harassing your detailer. ;)

No News

Well, let's see... The last time I posted was the 8th. Since then I have been remarkably lazy. I have done my job and sent off my work, but then I always do that... I have tried (failingly) to keep my room clean because I really don't want to come home from the hospital to a messy room, and laid around like a BUM... Just in case you are wondering, I AM still pregnant.. and there seems to be no end in sight...

This is one of those times in my life that I have a hard time. You see, I like to have CONTROL.. I have learned to give a lot of that up since I married my huband.. Because he is in the Navy, I have virtually no control over where we live, how long we live there, and really, any plans we make could be changed last second because of something the Navy needs him to do... That hasn't been too bad.. But this time, well, it's getting old.. I have no control over when he is going to come... and that bothers me. I try to take everything one day at a time, but I hate to think that I am going to leave something undone... I have tried to tell my employer that it might not be a good idea to send me new work, but they continue. I am going to work until Tuesday. Then I am going to tell them that it is stressing me out knowing that work could be put off because I could go into the hospital at any moment. Once the baby comes, send it again (I work from home), but I don't want to leave anyone hanging...

The closer and closer I get the more scared I get. I really want to try to do it without an epidural, but we'll see how that goes.. Just the little guy's movements are getting out of control. He has had me nearly in tears recently with his poking and smashing and clawing or whatever the heck it is he is doing... BUT I have been trying to enjoy myself. Just the other night, I spent 20 minutes after I had finished my dinner watching my plate do a little dance on my belly. The baby hates it when I use him as a shelf, and tells me by trying to knock whatever it is I am storing there off.. He also tends to move a lot when I scratch my belly... It itches because the skin is stretched way beyond what I thought was possible by now. Another thing that makes him upset is when I cough or sneeze.. He gets all squirmy then.. EVERY time he squirms because I am scratching, sneezing or using him as a shelf I try to remind him that if he would come out, he wouldn't notice so much when I scratch my tummy or sneeze or cough.. and I definitley won't be using him as a shelf or a table anymore... He hasn't gotten the hint...

I know, I sound like I'm complaining, but I don't mean to. I only have one more week (and a couple of days) until my due date, so really in all reality that is about 3 weeks at MOST left... They still let you go 2 weeks over most of the time if everything is okay... So.. Not too bad, right? 3 weeks, a total really of about 24 days.. Then, he'll be here... And the second I think that.. I start to freak out, because I am not sure that tomorrow I'm going to be ready to be in charge of a whole other person whose life depends upon me. That is a scary thought. I'm not sure I'm mentally stable enough for that.. ha ha. =o) Let's hope that tonight isn't like every other night where I fall asleep, pray for labor and wake up still pregnant in the morning...

New Nebraska Life

I'm officially, well, I have been for a while, but NOW I'm officially living in Nebraska again. My husband is in the Navy, and of course, he has to be gone for the birth of our child, who is due in October, so he and my mom teamed up and made me move back here. It's been fine, except for the lack of beaches and free concerts (which I probably wouldn't have gone to many this year anyways). I will be getting this site up and running since it is easier to work on than my old Angelfire site!