I really love America.
I really love Democracy.
I (((seriously))) cried the first time I voted. It was absentee and my friend took a picture, which I know you're not supposed to do, but COME ON!
Election day is seriously my VERY FAVORITE DAY.
But this bullshit is really harshing my election year buzz. I don't countdown to debate days and I'm not devouring every article and book I can get my hands on. I'm being robbbed. We all are.
I really can't wrap my mind around Donald Trump being the President, and I think I've made that pretty clear to anyone who will listen (or reads my facebook page). Sidenote: political posts on Facebook are not a good way to make friends... But my dislike for Humpty Trumpty should NOT mislead folks into thinking I could possibly stomach another Clinton presidency.
I never understood what people meant about elections being the choice between the lesser of two evils, because I never saw my candidate as problematic. Republican or Democrat, I trusted the process. Everyone has their faults, candidates included, but God almighty, I never legitimately worried about the likelihood of nuclear war until this election. I do not trust this process anymore.
If I were an ISIS leader, I would have watched last nights debates and turned to my buddies and said "Oh, you guys, we might as well disband. America doesn't need *us* to bring about it's implosion, they've got it covered on their own." Because seriously, holy shit people.
Tuesday, September 27, 2016
Friday, September 23, 2016
Antecdote
Several weeks ago I was with some friends and we were discussing how heinous the previously mentioned 3 months on, 3 months off rotation was. I said I think that would be worse than them just going for a year and being done with it because you never have a chance to adjust, and are just living in a constant state of turmoil - kids especially. I was met with weird looks and my sweet, diplomatic neighbor saying "Oh, well, I guess I don't know any different..." and I felt like this salty woman I once met in a class meeting while Erik was in Career Course.
((Now, before I continue, please note that it appears that Erik and I are some of the oldest folks in the neighborhood - and if not the oldest, definitely some of the longest in the service, and most haggard by the system, LOL! - and that and most of the folks going through these rotations are doing so as first-timers. The Army has changed A LOT in 5 years, and they have been really lucky in being together thus far.)))
So I launch into a story about how when Erik was at Career Course, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff came to talk to the Soldiers and find out why the Army was bleeding Captains. I explained that the answer, by the way, was that it was 2007 or 2008 and the wars were in full swing and everyone was sick of spending 12 to 18 months at a time away from their families. So while Admiral Mullen was in with the Soldiers, his wife came to speak to the wives. There was this older woman - hell, she was probably my age now...- who went on this LONG diatribe about how much she hated R&R. It disrupted her flow, got her kids all upset and just generally ruined all their lives. "Couldn't we just ditch R&R all together and send the Soldiers home 2 weeks earlier? It would save tons of money, as well!" I thought "This woman obviously hates her husband, how could she possibly choose to be apart LONGER and call it EASIER!???!" Note to this lady: I get it now. I'm sorry I painted you with such broad strokes for the last ten years.
And I said to these women the other day, that I felt like that salty old wife now, telling them that their lives would be easier if their husbands just left for an entire year instead of a few months at a time.
And again I was met with some weird looks.
Finally someone says "YOUR HUSBAND WAS A CAPTAIN IN 2008????!!!!!!"
Might as well start planing my funeral. I'm 1,000.
((Now, before I continue, please note that it appears that Erik and I are some of the oldest folks in the neighborhood - and if not the oldest, definitely some of the longest in the service, and most haggard by the system, LOL! - and that and most of the folks going through these rotations are doing so as first-timers. The Army has changed A LOT in 5 years, and they have been really lucky in being together thus far.)))
So I launch into a story about how when Erik was at Career Course, the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff came to talk to the Soldiers and find out why the Army was bleeding Captains. I explained that the answer, by the way, was that it was 2007 or 2008 and the wars were in full swing and everyone was sick of spending 12 to 18 months at a time away from their families. So while Admiral Mullen was in with the Soldiers, his wife came to speak to the wives. There was this older woman - hell, she was probably my age now...- who went on this LONG diatribe about how much she hated R&R. It disrupted her flow, got her kids all upset and just generally ruined all their lives. "Couldn't we just ditch R&R all together and send the Soldiers home 2 weeks earlier? It would save tons of money, as well!" I thought "This woman obviously hates her husband, how could she possibly choose to be apart LONGER and call it EASIER!???!" Note to this lady: I get it now. I'm sorry I painted you with such broad strokes for the last ten years.
And I said to these women the other day, that I felt like that salty old wife now, telling them that their lives would be easier if their husbands just left for an entire year instead of a few months at a time.
And again I was met with some weird looks.
Finally someone says "YOUR HUSBAND WAS A CAPTAIN IN 2008????!!!!!!"
Might as well start planing my funeral. I'm 1,000.
Tuesday, September 20, 2016
Verrrry Interesting
The other day we went to a neighborhood birthday party at which Erik was one of the only husbands in attendance.
Several of the husbands in the neighborhood are on missions that were supposed to run for 3 months on (in Germany, Africa, etc) and three months home. FOR TWO YEARS! Then the Army realized how AWFUL that was after two rotations and decided the last rotation would be for six months, but then it would be over.
Leaving SO MANY women, who had done their jobs as Army wives and planned accordingly, to give birth alone. DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON THIS! WE ARE NOT AT WAR AND THIS WAS NOT NECESSARY!
Anyway.
As we sat at this party yesterday, listening to the wives chatter about when their husbands will be home (it's coming up fast!) I looked at Erik who was paying attention (for probably the first time) to what it's like to be the one left behind. How excited they are, the photos, the search for the right outfits, the date nights were all covered. I'm not sure he had any idea that those of us at home obsessed this much, this far out, about the day they walk back into our homes for the first time in months. He answered a few questions about the reintegration process and then took Nash home because he was getting too hot.
Over dinner that night, he asked ME a few question and we talked about how hard it is when the whole post isn't gone, to have your husband away. I've had it both ways, and I have to say, it's somehow easier when everyone is miserable and not just you. I really feel for these women. When your husband is gone for an extended period, time kind of stops. But it also manages to keep marching on with a gaping, husband-sized hole in it. It's hard to pull that hole back together for your kids. Really hard.
I am so grateful that in just a few short weeks those holes can be filled in, just as they should be! And I'm grateful that Erik got a little peek from my side of the parade field.
Several of the husbands in the neighborhood are on missions that were supposed to run for 3 months on (in Germany, Africa, etc) and three months home. FOR TWO YEARS! Then the Army realized how AWFUL that was after two rotations and decided the last rotation would be for six months, but then it would be over.
Leaving SO MANY women, who had done their jobs as Army wives and planned accordingly, to give birth alone. DO NOT GET ME STARTED ON THIS! WE ARE NOT AT WAR AND THIS WAS NOT NECESSARY!
Anyway.
As we sat at this party yesterday, listening to the wives chatter about when their husbands will be home (it's coming up fast!) I looked at Erik who was paying attention (for probably the first time) to what it's like to be the one left behind. How excited they are, the photos, the search for the right outfits, the date nights were all covered. I'm not sure he had any idea that those of us at home obsessed this much, this far out, about the day they walk back into our homes for the first time in months. He answered a few questions about the reintegration process and then took Nash home because he was getting too hot.
Over dinner that night, he asked ME a few question and we talked about how hard it is when the whole post isn't gone, to have your husband away. I've had it both ways, and I have to say, it's somehow easier when everyone is miserable and not just you. I really feel for these women. When your husband is gone for an extended period, time kind of stops. But it also manages to keep marching on with a gaping, husband-sized hole in it. It's hard to pull that hole back together for your kids. Really hard.
I am so grateful that in just a few short weeks those holes can be filled in, just as they should be! And I'm grateful that Erik got a little peek from my side of the parade field.
Monday, September 19, 2016
Life, Lately.
Something like 7 years ago I was in kindergarten.
I rode the bus with my friends Nikki and Beth (and presumably others, but I can't remember who else) to a little one room school house out in the country that had a skunk family living under it. Our teachers, Mrs. Yoes and Mrs. French were sweet and patient and taught us how to make butter and to dance and to line up quietly while waiting to go to the playground.
About 12 weeks later, I graduated high school with many of the same kids I went to Kindergarten with at the one room school house with the skunk family under it.
Like five minutes after that, I gradated from college and got married and began traveling the world with a guy I really like, but don't see nearly enough.
It's funny that I'm out of college and married because I'm seriously only like 22 years old. Right?
Wrong.
I'm 32 and have a Kindergartner of my own. We are seriously the old people on our street of LT's and CPT's families.
And you guys, Kindergarten isn't a joke. There's no nap or show and tell. They are READING. WORDS! And Grant is starting to understand FRACTIONS. I swear, I was in like third grade for that.
And along with learning and understanding concepts sooner than I did, he's pushing for independence sooner than I think I did.
When walking to school, we can drop him in the breezeway of the school to find his own way to the class meeting spot, or I can walk him directly to the meeting spot. I generally prefer to drop him AT the meeting spot, so there's no question that he's where he needs to be. But his friend gets to walk from the breezeway. And watch Pokemon and stay up until 9 o'clock. So that's pretty much all I hear about.
I told him we'd revisit the drop of location in several months, but I'm pretty sure my answer is still going to be "You're only little for a short time, let me help you while I can." Every kid loves and understands that rationale, right?
Honestly, dropping him at the breezeway would save me time and about 400 steps in the morning. But he's only small for a short time, I want to help him while I can.
I rode the bus with my friends Nikki and Beth (and presumably others, but I can't remember who else) to a little one room school house out in the country that had a skunk family living under it. Our teachers, Mrs. Yoes and Mrs. French were sweet and patient and taught us how to make butter and to dance and to line up quietly while waiting to go to the playground.
About 12 weeks later, I graduated high school with many of the same kids I went to Kindergarten with at the one room school house with the skunk family under it.
Like five minutes after that, I gradated from college and got married and began traveling the world with a guy I really like, but don't see nearly enough.
It's funny that I'm out of college and married because I'm seriously only like 22 years old. Right?
Wrong.
I'm 32 and have a Kindergartner of my own. We are seriously the old people on our street of LT's and CPT's families.
And you guys, Kindergarten isn't a joke. There's no nap or show and tell. They are READING. WORDS! And Grant is starting to understand FRACTIONS. I swear, I was in like third grade for that.
And along with learning and understanding concepts sooner than I did, he's pushing for independence sooner than I think I did.
When walking to school, we can drop him in the breezeway of the school to find his own way to the class meeting spot, or I can walk him directly to the meeting spot. I generally prefer to drop him AT the meeting spot, so there's no question that he's where he needs to be. But his friend gets to walk from the breezeway. And watch Pokemon and stay up until 9 o'clock. So that's pretty much all I hear about.
I told him we'd revisit the drop of location in several months, but I'm pretty sure my answer is still going to be "You're only little for a short time, let me help you while I can." Every kid loves and understands that rationale, right?
Honestly, dropping him at the breezeway would save me time and about 400 steps in the morning. But he's only small for a short time, I want to help him while I can.
Friday, September 16, 2016
Last Time Mom
I sit here before you tearful and heartbroken.
My baby-est baby, my sweetest, my easiest baby, my LAST baby turns one in just a few short days. I'll never have a new baby, ever again. I'll never again have that feeling of empowerment that comes with pushing out a baby and literally giving someone a life. I'll never snuggle a brand new baby on the couch and be called a baby hog by my family. I'll never teach a new little one how to clap or play cars. I'll never nourish another little tummy with milk from my own body.
I know growing up is their job and I am so very, very grateful that I have been blessed with three healthy, precious people to raise into adulthood. I love watching my kids learning new things and having new experiences and I do my very best to make sure they don't miss out on ANYTHING, but this last baby.. I've held him back a little bit. Because I can't quite figure out how to let him go.
He's a Mama's Boy. The other two were Erik's. This one - he's mine. Everyone knows it.
He isn't sleep trained.
He still nurses up to 6 times a day.
He still wants to be held and carried all the time, and I'm perfectly fine with it.
I chew his food for him.
Okay, that's a lie. But I have no issue admitting that I plan to cut his meat until he's forty.
And you can ask around - I was a hard-ass with the other two.
So much discussion went in to starting our family. We discussed, we saved, we planned and dreamed before we dared open the door to parenthood. I spent so much time pouring over articles in preparation for my first baby. All the information you could possibly need, from birth plans and the other logistics of having a baby to emotionally preparing your pets can be found online. Everyone knows how hard it is to become a mother and all the mommy bloggers in all the land want to talk you down from the ledge that you inevitably end up on at some point (usually around 4AM) thanks to an evil combination of exhaustion, hunger, leaky boobs and the 6-week period that is the parting gift provided by the gremlin that just evicted your womb. (And you are NOT alone, it IS SO HARD TO HAVE AN INFANT!!!)
But no one has written about how to close that big door to creating new life, lock it, and walk away without tears flooding your eyes.
No one has written about how to know when you have had enough kids.
No one has written a how to on packing up the sweet smelling tiny baby gowns that most easily accommodate hundreds of overnight changes while managing not to daydream about the next sweet little person that will share your name.
No one can tell you how to stop the drive to create more of the people that you like and love more than anyone else in the world.
Because it can't be done.
Write about it? I can barely entertain the thought of it.
They say you are never ready for kids. That if you wait for the "right time" you'll never have any at all, and you just have to hold your breath and jump in. As it turns out, though, there's no "right time" to stop. If you wait for the "right time" you'll just end up with 100 babies that all eventually turn 2 and all hell breaks lose and you're left crumpled in the kitchen floor crying softly among mounds of dirty dishes that are calling your name now that all your kids (and your husband...) are finally asleep. Don't ask how I know.
We (kind of...) know our door is shut.
But I just can't manage to walk away without a broken heart.
My baby-est baby, my sweetest, my easiest baby, my LAST baby turns one in just a few short days. I'll never have a new baby, ever again. I'll never again have that feeling of empowerment that comes with pushing out a baby and literally giving someone a life. I'll never snuggle a brand new baby on the couch and be called a baby hog by my family. I'll never teach a new little one how to clap or play cars. I'll never nourish another little tummy with milk from my own body.
I know growing up is their job and I am so very, very grateful that I have been blessed with three healthy, precious people to raise into adulthood. I love watching my kids learning new things and having new experiences and I do my very best to make sure they don't miss out on ANYTHING, but this last baby.. I've held him back a little bit. Because I can't quite figure out how to let him go.
He's a Mama's Boy. The other two were Erik's. This one - he's mine. Everyone knows it.
He isn't sleep trained.
He still nurses up to 6 times a day.
He still wants to be held and carried all the time, and I'm perfectly fine with it.
I chew his food for him.
Okay, that's a lie. But I have no issue admitting that I plan to cut his meat until he's forty.
And you can ask around - I was a hard-ass with the other two.
So much discussion went in to starting our family. We discussed, we saved, we planned and dreamed before we dared open the door to parenthood. I spent so much time pouring over articles in preparation for my first baby. All the information you could possibly need, from birth plans and the other logistics of having a baby to emotionally preparing your pets can be found online. Everyone knows how hard it is to become a mother and all the mommy bloggers in all the land want to talk you down from the ledge that you inevitably end up on at some point (usually around 4AM) thanks to an evil combination of exhaustion, hunger, leaky boobs and the 6-week period that is the parting gift provided by the gremlin that just evicted your womb. (And you are NOT alone, it IS SO HARD TO HAVE AN INFANT!!!)
But no one has written about how to close that big door to creating new life, lock it, and walk away without tears flooding your eyes.
No one has written about how to know when you have had enough kids.
No one has written a how to on packing up the sweet smelling tiny baby gowns that most easily accommodate hundreds of overnight changes while managing not to daydream about the next sweet little person that will share your name.
No one can tell you how to stop the drive to create more of the people that you like and love more than anyone else in the world.
Because it can't be done.
Write about it? I can barely entertain the thought of it.
They say you are never ready for kids. That if you wait for the "right time" you'll never have any at all, and you just have to hold your breath and jump in. As it turns out, though, there's no "right time" to stop. If you wait for the "right time" you'll just end up with 100 babies that all eventually turn 2 and all hell breaks lose and you're left crumpled in the kitchen floor crying softly among mounds of dirty dishes that are calling your name now that all your kids (and your husband...) are finally asleep. Don't ask how I know.
We (kind of...) know our door is shut.
But I just can't manage to walk away without a broken heart.
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