but I know, one thing, that I love you.

During this last deployment, we spent a lot of time planning the perfect trip.  It turns out the perfect trip, is a 7 day cruise on the Royal Caribbean ship Freedom of the Seas, visiting select beautiful Caribbean Islands.  We swam with tropical fish (and a shark!), we jet skied in turquoise water, we laid on the beach and watched airplanes fly so close we could almost touch them, we danced to 80's ballads played by an incredible Filipino cover band, and fell asleep to the music of the waves coming from our private balcony.  It came and went like a dream.  I need to look at the pictures to believe it really happened.  I missed my babies like crazy, and am happy to be home and snuggle them, but we had an amazing time.  Maybe some day we'll take the kids with us on a similar trip.  When they're much older, perhaps in 12 years or so.  Maybe.

Put a Dad in It

A song came to mind as I was scrolling through the latest pictures on my camera.  It's Brooks & Dunn's song Put a Girl in It.  It's all about how everything in life is better if you "put a girl in it".  Except of course, I was substituting "Dad" for "girl".  Everything is just better with Dad in the mix.

Warning, if you click on my link to the music video of the Brooks & Dunn song, I suggest you listen without watching the video.  It's full of some less than respectable girls, pretty, but scantily clad, drinking and dancing.  I can't help but leave the disclaimer that life in general is much better without that kind of girl.  AND girls are capable of so much more than looking and acting sexy.  Where are the clips of girls wiping the tears of a toddler, putting an arm around a lonely friend, teaching a class, baking something irresistible...  So, yeah, cute and true song, but very sexist video.   

Here's a much better video, if I do say so myself!!!  Daddy isn't in all of the photos, because more often than not, he was behind the camera!!!  We've all been drinking in the family time, in satisfying heavy doses.

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To each of my sweethearts, whether you're 32 or not quite 2, isn't it obvious we belong together?!      

I dance in my kitchen

      

I dance in my kitchen a lot.  After I put the kids to bed, I turn up my rockin' out tunes, and while I'm sweeping the never quite clean floor, and taking part in that circle of life that is dishwashing (they're never all clean, it's just a rotating circle of sink, to dishwasher, to cupboards, repeat!) I dance.  Not well, of course.  I'm no dancer.  I took 1 tap/ballet class for a month or so when I was 6, and then my DH took me to a ballroom dance class one time during the early stages of dating, when he wasn't yet sure if he should admit he hates dancing.  So I'm no good.  But I love it anyway.  I'm like Baloo the Bear, from Disney's The Jungle Book.  I hear the groove, and I have to move.  It slows down my kitchen cleanup a bit, but it's a nice stress reliever too.  I twist, I shake, I bounce, and I lose myself in the beat for a few minutes.

I realized the other day, that I don't do this all the time.  It's a deployment thing.  I don't know if it's because I'm too self-conscious to completely let loose like that in front of my husband, or maybe I'm worried he'll be annoyed with the loud music.  I've never given it enough thought to know why.  But it got me thinking.  Are there other things I'll miss when he comes home?  Am I even allowed to miss anything about this temporary husbandless existence of mine?

It's strange trying to think about that.  My inner-self splits into two personalities.  One is the loving wife, do-anything-for-your-marriage-and-life-is-miserable-without-him side, and the other is my feminist, you-don't-need-a-man-to-complete-you (add a snap and body roll to that) side.  The feminist tries to think of things I've enjoyed while he was gone, and the loving wife side jumps in and stops those thoughts saying, "It doesn't matter!!!" or "You just did that to pass the time while he was away!!"

It's an odd conflict, and I'm not sure either side ever wins.  Probably because they both are a part of me.  However, I think I will let the feminist have her day, and make my list.  But to pacify the loving wife, I'll add the disclosure that I'd trade the entire list right now for even just snuggling on the couch with my husband, watching football that I'm sort of paying attention to.  Wait- make that college basketball.  Football season is over.  I forgot.  Obviously he's been gone awhile.  ESPN.com and Cougarboard aren't even on our google chrome most visited pages list anymore!!!  They have been replaced with Pinterest, Facebook, Amazon, and the Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines page.  

1.  Online shopping.  I do, of course, still buy things when he's home, but when he's gone I have the "I'm lonely so I'm sending myself a package" excuse.  It's a fabulous excuse, even if half the wearable things get returned because it turns out I don't look as much like the model as I thought I did.

2.  Fast Food.  I cook well when I have a husband to eat it.  Otherwise, I'm not ashamed to admit fast food happens a lot.  Enough for my 4 year old to sigh with happiness and say, "I love drive-thru's!"  It's too frustrating cooking for myself and 3 minis.  Unless it's pancakes, waffles, one of the many forms of hot dogs (hot dogs, corn dogs, pigs in a blanket, chili dogs, hot dogs cut up with beans) or frozen chicken nuggets, someone wont eat it.  Healthy meals I either have to eat myself for a week (because I don't know how to cut my family recipes down) or end up throwing it out.  Both are not ideal.  So fast food and pizza have been our friends.  Don't judge 'till you've walked the 4 month mile.  Or the two month mile, times 7.  

3.  The sewing bug.  I've caught it a few times this deployment, and have made several satisfying projects that make me want to smile, snap a picture, post it somewhere and proclaim, "Yeah, I made that!".  It's not so satisfying however staying up late trying to finish something, while my husband is in bed wondering when sewing became more attractive than him.  When he's gone however, I can stay up 'till 2 am guilt free, finishing up something adorable.

4.  Chick Flicks.  They replace the 4 games of football/basketball/baseball going on simultaneously on the iPad, computer, TV, and phone.  I cry at the good parts, without making anyone concerned for my emotional stability, and don't have to tune out the teasing banter about the obvious lacking in masculinity of the male heroes in my beloved favorite films.  Edward, Mr. Darcy, Tad Hamilton, and the others are safe.

5.  Reading without stopping.  I don't have it in me to give up reading when my DH comes home, but I do try a little harder not to get so lost in my books, that I don't notice he went to bed 3 hours ago.  It's happened, I'm ashamed to say.  But when he's gone, I don't need to use any caution.  No reason to rush off to a cold, lonely bed.  It's not going anywhere, unlike the plot of my book!

6.  Girl Time.  It's much easier planning in girl time, because I can do it pretty much 24-7.  My schedule is wide open.  Virtually.  The kids do have a few things.  But for the most part, when a girlfriend wants to hang out, the answer is most emphatically, "yes!"

7.  Spaghetti, Shepherd's Pie, Chili, Taco Soup.  When I do get around to cooking, I make what I like, and don't need to compromise two sets of tastes.

Seven is a lucky number, so I'll stop there.  I can't think of anything else major at the moment anyway.

To my amazing husband when his internet works long enough to read this, I miss you like a dieter misses doughnuts, like pot roast misses salt, like a city night misses stars, like a Virginia girl living in the desert would miss trees.  Lots and lots.  But, I am a trained resilient girl, and am learning to look for the good things in any situation.  I've found a few, that keep me happy and busy when I'm missing you.  But sleep well knowing none of them come close to spending time with the most important person in my world.

How I can do it

"I don't know how you do it."

I hear that phrase so often when others hear how frequently my husband has to deploy.  They are being kind, and I know that.  Perhaps they are imagining me standing at the doorway, watching as he rolls his bags down the driveway to a taxi, or maybe they can picture too many tender goodbyes he's made to our kids.  They too may know something of loneliness, or the exhaustion that comes from doing things day after day, without help or relief.

How can I do this over and over?  How do I stay happy, raise babies, and keep our house a home, when I so often have to do it alone?  I can do it because of my faith.  I believe in Christ.  I believe that I am a daughter of God, who loves me, and I love Him.  I feel strength when I read the scriptures.  I feel peace when I read them to my children.

I love my husband.  I worry about his safety, and the idea that he may not make it home is ever present in my mind.  While I would never welcome that possibility, I do not fear it.  I know that I am not forgotten.  I know my life matters to God.  He loves my family, and he is there, watching, and helping us everyday.  When I pray about these things, I can feel it in my heart, with a strength I cannot question.

Every year I include a scripture that has special meaning to me in our Christmas card.  This year the choice was very easy.

John 16:33

These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace.  In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.

This year, as we face another holiday season apart, I will have moments of weakness, grief, and loneliness.  But I believe in Jesus Christ, and He overcame the world.  If he overcame the world, what are my small trials in comparison?  He has helped me, and still will, come what may.

My Florida

My life in beautiful Florida has been bittersweet.  Mixed with crystal blue-green water and sparkling, powder white sand, are the tumultuous feelings of too many goodbyes for our family.  This is the place where we had to learn that being an eternal family doesn't mean you always get to be together.  

Are you tired of reading about the woes of deployments?  What a coincidence!  So am I.  Sadly being tired of something doesn't entitle me to a break.  There are many positives that come with military life.  Rest for the weary however, isn't among them.  The country needs fighters - strong soldiers and families who can do more with less.  With the current financial situation, they work longer hours with less sleep, travel further with shorter periods home, complete missions with smaller teams, and as families, stay together without actually being together very often.  Typically those who risk the most, and have the most dangerous jobs with the highest mortality rate, have some of the lowest salaries and are away the very longest.  I don't know why it has to be like that, but it is.  

Florida has taught me that physically, we do have to let go, and often.  However with patience and slow but steady growth, I've learned those goodbyes are temporary.  We are an eternal family, we made promises in one of God's holy temples, and were blessed that living up to those promises means the bonds of marriage and family will never break.  After all those goodbyes, I know, never doubting, that we will always be reunited.  He will always come home.  And if that worst of all fears happens, and the dearest cost of war touches our family, one day I will come home to him.  No goodbye is final, no separation permanent.  Sometimes the happiness we have together seems brief, but I know I'll have it again.

My mother warned me of possible perils of looking only towards homecomings, and forgetting to live in between.  She is wise and so I have tried to stay happy both when our family is all together and when it is not.  However any of you who have experienced something like this know, that while you continue on with your life, and keep smiling, moving, and living day by day, you're still secretly, acutely aware of that calendar.

If you find this difficult to understand, imagine going without something you love, and use everyday.  Take daily hot showers, for example.  For reasons you don't want, like, or completely understand, you have been told you will not be allowed to shower for a period of four months.  Imagine how that last week of showers before the moratorium begins will mean to you.  Imagine how you'd feel if you were interrupted during those last few showers, or for some reason had to shorten a few of them.  Then imagine that first morning where you crawled out of your warm bed into the chilly morning, and then couldn't go take one.  All day you'd try not to think about it, but you'd be keenly aware of your oily hair, a bit self conscious of your smell, and would probably feel like you were holding up a sign that said, "Yes, it's true, I didn't shower today!"

Now add time to our little example.  As time continues, a part of you would adjust to the change in daily habit.  However do you think there will ever be a day where you can completely forget that you haven't had a shower in days, weeks, or months?  Do you think you'd be able to avoid thinking about that first blissful moment when showers are a part of your life again?  Add to that the complication that you cannot shower or bathe your children either.  Everywhere you go you'd feel like "the stinky family", and in all your misery, you'd have the additional challenge of keeping your kids happy, despite reminding them they still can't play with rubber duckies.  You'd have to listen to them cry about how much they miss bubbles, and splashing warm water at the end of a long day.  How about all those clean people around you, who feel they should give you regular advice about how to not think about showers?  Some of them will even put on sympathetic faces, and oh-so-sweetly say that considering everything you've gone through, you really don't smell that bad.  And because you are a kind, polite person, you're supposed to show genuine gratitude towards those well scrubbed friends with all the advice.

I bet just reading that makes you want to go shower again today!  Me too.    

Oh my sweet, beautiful, Florida, how much I have learned, grown, and changed while strolling your shores!  I don't know how much longer we'll be together, and though not all of our memories are happy, I am at least grateful for the beauty, experience, and wisdom you have given me.  If I could pause time, where my babies are young and sweet, and my husband is home and we are all together, I'd choose that perfect moment to be here, with you!  

Sadly I cannot freeze time for us.  But of all the places to be both happy and sad, it's pretty easy to say this is the best one.  And while I cannot actually live that wonderful frozen moment, thanks to my talented friend, Kaycee, we can at least know what that moment would look like!  Looking at it isn't the same as living it, but it's close.

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And to my constant and forever best friend, remember we'll always be at home waiting, loving, and smiling thinking of you, no matter how often you have to leave, or wherever you go.    

Nobody Gets Me Like You . . .

I have a pet-peeve.  Well, actually, I have many (don't we all) but one of them, is this phrase.  In case you haven't read my title, I'm referring to the uneducated, stupid, empty yet well embraced phrase in modern culture, "Nobody gets me like you."

Can we possibly find a more vague, adolescent description of romantic feelings towards one another?  I expect if one responded to this lovely term of endearment with, "well, what do you get about me?" one would find his or her date stuttering and lost with no idea what to say next, because that all-encompassing nothingness of a phrase was the best he or she had.  He/she doesn't really know anything about you except that he/she finds you attractive, and possibly feels comfortable around you.  Hence the "get me" part.  I assume that's what they mean, that they feel comfortable in the presence of said lover, therefore, he/she "gets me".  Gag me now.

While folding laundry I watched the last three episodes of the most recent season of The Bachelorette, where this lovely phrase was uttered between lovers, no exaggeration, over 60 times.

"He just gets me!"
"I love you, because you just really get me"
"No one has ever got me quite like you"
The variations continue in their pathetic monotony.

Don't get me started about that mockery of love tv show.  It feels like one long, awkward first date, except with many men, and in exotic places.  Oh, and of course, it ends with a proposal.  I don't think anyone honestly, truly, really believes that's how love works, or even resembles it.  Yet, so many women get sucked into that nonsense!!!  See, you got me started.  Well, while I'm at it . . . I have a few theories.  I will shamefully admit I am guilty of shedding a tear or two when I saw the proposal, or witnessed earlier poor Sean (2nd to last guy eliminated from Emily's love list) drive home with a devastated, deer in the headlights look of a truly heartbroken man.  I think women are drawn to this show not because they think it has any bearing on true love, but because it's entertaining in a way they can't explain.  I think I can though.  First of all, women need to feel wanted, and here's a show with one woman being desired by 25 men.  25 good looking, succesful, congenial men, who hope to marry her!  Add to that romantic locations, a little drama (admit it women, we all secretly love a little drama, anyone who denies that, is well, in denial!!!) and kisses and embraces from these beautiful men all fighting for her affection, and you have catnip for women.  This human catnip is neither real nor healthy though, my ladies.  I suggest you find something else to fill your time, although, yes, as I said, I too am guilty of losing three hours of my life to that last season.  "Lord, what fools these mortals be!" Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream.  Now if you really want to watch a true parody of love, that's the comedy for you.  I never get tired of that play!!! 

So- where was I?  Oh yes, trashing on the "Nobody gets me like you" phrase.  If you are a user, rest easy, there is still hope.  Buy a thesaurus, or better yet, book of Shakespearean sonnets!  There are numerous ways to describe true love and devotion in the English language!  You can learn to express yourself.  I believe in you!

Now that I've completely exhausted that tangent, to the point of this post.  I heard a song on the radio, and it totally "got me".  By that, of course I mean I instantly felt drawn to the lyrics and the sweet, touching description of the benefits of marriage over being single.  The song is called Woman Like You by Lee Brice.  It's of course, a country song.  No other genre seems to have mastered the art of beautifying the simple, sweet parts of life, with a mixture of acoustic guitars and a little southern twang.  As Trace Adkins put it so well, country songs are songs about me! 

"...it's songs about me,

and who I am.  

Songs about loving and living

and good hearted women

and family and God.

Yeah, they're all just 

songs about me"

You can see the video and hear that whole song here.  (The Trace Adkins song)  It's a great song, I love it.  


That's of course, why I fell in love with Lee Brice's song, Woman Like You.  It's about me!  It's about a wife who asked her husband that hypothetical question I think most women ask or at least wonder at some point.  

Where would you be today if you weren't married to me?  

Of course what she really means is, 

Are you happy with me, and do you regret getting married or miss being single?    

He answered her in sweetly rhyming verses all the great things he'd be doing, and how they still don't top what he now has with her.  This touches a particularly sensitive note with me, because my husband happens to have a very cool profession, and to the outside world it probably doesn't quite match up to being a family man.  Really, does it get much cooler than being a Special Ops Air Force pilot?  No, no it doesn't.  

He looks pretty darn suave in his green flight suit, combat boots, and Oakley sunglasses.  And yet this extraordinary man I married is happiest in a worn out t-shirt, pair of cargo shorts, flip flops, and rolling around on the floor with his kids.  If he were single he'd probably own a plane of his own, drive a cool new motorcycle, and have time to both ride it, and keep it maintained!  Right now his bike lays hopelessly unrepairable in our garage, with no time in the foreseeable future to fix it.  If he didn't have a family, he wouldn't feel so torn when he has to deploy so often,  he could watch as much college football as he wants, and probably join an adult amateur league of flag football or soccer, instead of coaching a team of five-year-old girls.  (No offense to Anny and the other Green Butterflies!)  

His life could be in the worldly sense, much, much cooler, and we both know it.  I probably know it a little too much, and like the pretty girl in the music video, I fish a little to get him to remind me he's happier now than he would be without poopy diapers, messy kitchens, toys to trip on, babies crying at night, putting up with a hormonal pregnant wife 3 times . . . oh and how the list goes on!  Yet family craziness aside, he's happy.  He wants exactly what he has!  He may not be able to compose a country song about it, but I'm not too bad at ryhming, so I made an attempt to write my own verses to that song, dedicated to the number one man in my life.  I'm crazy about you, and can't tell you what it means to me that you prefer us over what would be a very exciting life for a single man.  If you ever want to whisper in my ear your own reasons for those decisions, even if I think I already know them, well, let's just say I'd be ok with that.     

Here are my knock-off verses.  Not quite as smooth as Mr. Lee Brice, but I think they have their own personal charm.  

If he was still a single man he’d,

never have to drive a mini van,

He’d have more time for football games,

Eat more Rice-a-Roni and chicken wings.

He’d live somewhere with a water view,

time to fix a motorcycle or two. 

I know he’d own that dream airplane,

If I’d never known his name.

Going overseas wouldn’t be so tough,

No goodbyes makes it not so rough.

There’d be time to study for a masters degree,

Time for the gym, even time for sleep. 

Life would be simple and carefree,

Without a family, without me. 

Now that I’ve got your attention,

I suppose I forgot to mention,

I’m so happy he came my way,

I can never have too many days,

Watching him coach our daughter’s soccer team,

Pushing our kids on the back yard swings.

Though he does love Rice-a-Roni,

I know it’s no trade for being lonely.

Football games are way more fun,

While holding his sleeping newborn son.

Flying overseas is hard to do,

But it’s nice having someone to come home to.

There are things he gave up to be a husband and father,

We’ll probably never have that house on the water.

Time for motorcycles has come and gone,

When you spend all your Saturdays mowing the lawn.

Yet as soon as you’re home, your kids come running to see you,

We all just want to be near you. 

We’ll follow you to the middle of no-where,

It will be happy to us, as long you’ll be there.

This all, I’m sure, is nothing new,

We’re grateful, Daddy, we love you.    

Do Nothing Day

When my best friend comes back home, we're having one of these. A blissfully unproductive day. After I've put the kids to bed I should be catching up on the dishes, sweeping up my floor so my little crawler doesn't supplement his diet with whatever fun things he can find, or folding and sorting laundry. Too often I don't though. I get lost. I sit, sit, sit, sit, and daydream. Sometimes I think about things I need to do, or should have done, but more often than not, I lose myself thinking about the do nothing days I want to have.

I just want to sleep late with my sweetheart, and then when the kids drag us out of bed, we can spend the morning in our PJ's, making bacon and pancakes with lots of syrup and butter, or strawberry jam. Then spend the afternoon watching TV or football, eating chips with salsa, and cookies for lunch. Going for a slow walk around the neighborhood in the evening, then reading storybooks and playing board games till the kids are grumpy and sleepy. Staying up late cuddling, talking, laughing and slow dancing. Letting the dishes pile up in the sink, and toys sneak out of the playroom and spread around the house. Knowing the grass is higher than it should be outside, but letting it sit just for one more day. Using the ambitious to-do lists as coasters for cold frosty mugs of root beer, no answering the phones or responding to nagging emails. Just shutting out the world, hanging out as a family, and doing nothing except being together, making messes and memories.

I lose time at night, doing nothing, thinking about a do-nothing day. I think I need one. In fact, I think I'm due for a nice long string of them.

 

a few of the things I love most!

This post is for me.  Sadly Daddy doesn't have a lot of time home before he has to go out again.  It's already flying by so fast!  I decided to make a slideshow of all the fun things we've been doing with him lately, so when I miss him, I can follow Freulein Maria's example, and simply remember my favorite things from when he was here.  I'll be revisiting this post a lot!

Emerald green water that sparkles in sunshine,

Chocolate dipped berries and kids early naptimes,

Zaxbys, and Flounders, and Buffalo Wild Wings,

These are a few of my favorite things!

Strawberry picking with Dad, son and daughters,

Homemade pink syrup, jam, muffins, and cobblers. 

Silver white sand castles, dolphins up close,

These are a few of the things I love most!

When goodbyes come,

When I miss you,

When I’m feeling sad,

I’ll simply remember my favorite things,

and then I wont feel, so bad!

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Married to the Military

I recently read a "letter from a military spouse", that had been published in a newspaper.  She gave some insight about things most women married to the military experience, that the general public may not be aware of.  I've seen similar writings.  This last one made me start to wonder, if I were to write such a letter, and knew it had the potential to be read by many, what would I say?

After much deliberation, I decided I'd want to let those outside military life to know, that our lives aren't tragic.  There seems to be a commonly accepted opinion that spouses of soldiers are victims of a sort, leading mournful lives of goodbyes and heartache.  It's true the separation that tends to come with military life is difficult.  It's more than difficult.  But it does not mean we are always sad.  Nor are our lives less idealistic than anyone elses.

When friends or neighbors hear about my husband's frequent deployment schedule, I commonly hear hear phrases such as, "Wow, I don't know how you do that.  I never could" or "Bless your heart, that sounds miserable".  Someone even said once, "It seems you're doing your best with a bad situation".  

I know they mean well with their comments, and are trying to express some sympathy and understanding that I am doing something hard.  The kindness behind their comments doesn't go unrecognized.  However what I wish I could say in response is, "yes, it is hard, but we are happy."

Naturally I don't mean it makes me happy to send my husband off over and over.  I cry, I worry, and I miss him terribly.  But I also do what any other positive person does when presented with trials we all must endure.  I focus on the blessings we have, and remember that they are many!

Nephi, an ancient prophet who lived 500 years before the birth of Jesus Christ, saw much hardship in his life.  He helped lead his family across the ocean and to the American continents.  After arriving in this new land, his family settled and built homes.  However after his father died, his older brothers set plans to kill Nephi and his family.  They resented him and their father for leading them away from Jerusalem.  Despite the many miracles they witnessed, they refused to acknowledge it was God who preserved them and led them to the new land.  Nephi and all those who believed in God left their homes yet again.  They traveled for many days with their families before they felt safe enough to settle and rebuild.  Reading that I think most people would find Nephi's lot a sad and difficult one.  Not ideal, I think we all would say.  However after settling again, Nephi records this short but beautiful verse:

2 Nephi 5:27 And it came to pass that we lived after the manner of happiness.

I think I understand why Nephi wrote that.  If I could speak to the world about what my life is like as a military spouse, I'd say the same.  We live after the manner of happiness.  My husband has a job he loves and knows is meaningful.  His work provides us with everything we need and want.  We've had the opportunity to live in many places, and have met so many good people.  The separations have caused us to deeply appreciate the time we have together. It has brought us closer to family and friends who have been there during times of need.

Military life isn't a curse, it's a choice, and we've been happy in the life it has provided.  I will admit it has been harder than what I imagined when I said yes to a handsome ROTC boy asking for my hand.  It has not been without challenges, challenges unique to this lifestyle.  However no family is spared from hardship.  Every bride discovers marriage isn't living a fairy princess life.  Every new husband finds he's never at home as much as he'd like to be.  Earth life comes with weariness, loneliness, sorrow, and pain.  Families of military members do not have a monopoly on trials.  If being in the military has presented us with more challenges than the average family, then it has blessed us, because it has caused us to learn quickly how to effectively follow the example of Nephi.  We had to recognize right away any difficulty or trial can be endured if we seek to live after the manner of happiness.  

The next time you see your friend struggling in the grocery store with her children, knowing her spouse wont be home to help her for several months, or you notice her sitting at church by herself, mowing her own lawn, or going to the movies alone, give her your love, keep her in your prayers, but don't mourn for her.  You have more in common with her than you think.  Remember if she looks happy, she is.  She devotes her life to living after the manner of happiness, just like you.

Vapor Rub Tissues

Last week I was awesome.  I said goodbye to my DH at the airport, gave myself the rest of the day for some therapeutic wallowing, and woke up Tuesday feeling strong and ready to roll.  I stuck to my R.I.C.E diet like a champion.  That's my list of coping mechanisms.  Anyone who's going through something needs a list.  I attended a seminar about how to survive military deployments a couple years ago, given by an author who wrote an encouraging book on the subject.  She suggested making a physical list of things that help you feel better, and to post that list somewhere obvious, like the bathroom mirror.  If you begin to notice you haven't been doing anything on that list for awhile, that's a sign you're slipping, and might need some help.  This time around, my list is my RICE diet.

Reading

Indexing

Crocheting 

Exercise

Those are a few things I enjoy, keep me busy, and make me feel better.  I fully embraced all of them last week.  I started a new book, and stayed up late a few nights getting lost in it's pages.  I began a list of little crocheting projects, and looked up some new patterns to try.  I exercised 4 times last week, which took some effort, but was worth it.  I became an official "indexer".  Indexing is the process of reviewing scanned genealogical records such as birth certificates, draft papers, baptismal records, etc. and entering the basic information from them into a system that makes the information searchable and available for anyone trying to find their ancestors.  It's fun and addicting, and you can learn more about it here.  

I also found time to do all the laundry, which is especially hard the first week of a deployment, because I have to wash and fold all my husbands things he wore the previous week, knowing he wont wear them for awhile.  It's a bit of a downer, but I did it.  I kept up with the dishes, vacuumed the entire house, cleaned the curtains in my bedroom, took a field trip to a history museum, attended a church activity, and made a new friend.  A week to be proud of!!

My running start came to a halt this morning though, when I woke up with a stuffy head, and constant runny nose.  Isn't it interesting how those come together?  Interesting in a frustrating way, that is.  You'd think with the leaky faucet nose, that the pressure in my sinuses would be relieved.  Sadly no.  Taking a sick day means no exercise.  However it doesn't mean I get a break from making meals, laundry, housework, or taking care of the kids.  They have to get done, and there's no one else to do it.

They say military wives are tough, so I decided to give tough a try.  I took some Sudafed and Tylenol, and got to work.  I had to mail a package to my DH- there were some things he left at home it turns out he needs.  On the way to the post office, we stopped by the grocery store.  The girls were being loud and obnoxious, but as long as they didn't get in the way of other customers, I didn't have the energy to scold them.  I was the picture perfect example of that worn out looking mom in the grocery store, who gives homemakers a bad name.  I should have worn a shirt that said, "Deployed Dad, sick Mom, don't judge".

My attitude sank lower still we when got in line to check out.  In front of us was an airman, looking sharp in his blues (aka the more formal looking AF uniform of blue dress pants, lighter blue shirt, and shiny shoes) holding a bouquet of very pretty flowers.  My heart dropped to my stomach.  I'd forgotten about "Blues Monday".  All local active duty personnel have to wear their blues on Mondays.  When my DH is home, I love blues Mondays, because he looks dashing in his uniform.  I miss that when he's gone, and usually make a note not to visit grocery stores on Mondays, because it's painful to see all the soldiers picking up last minute things at the store for their families, knowing my husband's not one of them.  Watching the airman in front of me pay for his beautiful bouquet of light pink roses and lilies, I sighed inwardly and placed my vapor rub tissues on the counter.

I'm still awesome, and plan to pick up my RICE diet again as soon as I can kick this cold.  I'm down, but not out.  Not yet!  Maybe when I'm done with the tissues, I'll turn my tissue box into this:


The only thing that could make that more perfect, is my handsome man in his blues, hand delivering it.  Maybe in approximately two and a half months.

Soak in the Daddy Time!

After 8 wonderful uninterrupted months together, the time has come where Daddy has to deploy again.  I'm so grateful for the timing of his last homecoming, and for this long break with him home, that I feel guilty being sad this day has come.  I was talking with my mom the other day though, and she gave some insightful advice.  Not a rare thing for my mom, many of you have probably heard me repeat sound wisdom from her.  She said she's realized we really can't control what we feel.  We feel what we feel!

Emotional pain is like physical pain.  When or how it happens is not within our control. Imagine if an OB doctor told a mother in labor, that she shouldn't be feeling pain.  It's all in her head.  I think if such a doctor existed, he wouldn't live long! Of course her pain is real!  She can't decide whether she feels pain or not.  There are coping strategies for pain.  Lamaze classes, right?  However I think most mothers who have actually experienced childbirth will admit such classes are beautiful in theory . . . but when you're in the delivery room, and it's all so much worse than you ever imagined, you consider strangling the nurse who's reminding you to breathe in patterns!  You can't control what you feel, and it isn't easy to control how you react to feelings either.

Despite the thousands of books written on emotional health, and millions of dollars spent on therapy, I think when it comes to painful experiences we know are coming- most of us follow a universal 3 step approach:

1. Dread
2. Acceptance
3. Endurence


So while experiencing phase 1 during the last few days Daddy is home, we're trying our best to not be too distracted by the process, so we can enjoy what time we have left before steps 2 and 3.

Last Sunday I stayed home with Merrylee and Ben who were fighting colds, so it was just Anny and Daddy at church together.  Daddy said she was a very good girl.  I curled her hair, she looked very grown up and pretty.        

Daddy had an old ROTC buddy call up and say he was driving through our area, so he meet him for dinner in Pensacola, and took Merrylee with him.  Being the middle child, she doesn't get a lot of individual parent time.  She felt very special to be the only one accompanying him, and was excited to have Dad all to herself.  

Baby Ben will probably go through the most changes while Daddy is gone, so he's tried to spend a little extra time with him too.  Some might argue 8 months is a little early for ice cream.  Ben didn't complain though, and there's no way Daddy was going to miss sharing that first bite of Bryers Mint Chocolate Chip.

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So phase 1 hasn't been too horrible.  Wish us luck for 2 and 3.  I don't think I'll be in the mood to blog about them.

Baby, completely, wrapped up in you

I wish I was good at telling stories, because this is great story, and deserves to be told well.  Sometimes I can describe something well, when I've had time to think, plan, and rewrite a few times.  Right now however I hardly have time to eat, so I'm afraid a quick summary and spellcheck are all the effort I have time for.  fyi, I will occasionally use the acronym "DH" for "dear husband" to simplify a little.   

June 9, 2011
I had a routine OB appointment, at 35 weeks into my pregnancy.  Things looked healthy and normal.  My cervix was dilated to 1", but that's not uncommon at 35-36 weeks along.  My doctor said all that meant is "you probably wont deliver this week". 

Ok.  "Probably." 

I took that with a grain of salt, and a bit of worry, as my husband wasn't due home from his deployment for a little over a week.  I would have rather heard news that I was showing no signs of labor at all.  I didn't want a "your baby probably wont come before your husband does", I wanted a guarantee.  Life offers no such thing. 

I visited a few friends, and complained I was getting a little worried.  I emailed my DH, giving him the details of the appointment.  He responded the way he had been lately, with promises that he'll get home on time.  The promises felt empty to me, and made me feel frustrated.  He's not the type to give empty promises.  I knew he didn't want me to worry, and worrying can actually bring on stress and early labor, but still, I felt I needed to mentally prepare for the possibility I'd be delivering my baby alone.  Promises that that wouldn't happen when I knew it very well could, weren't comforting to me.

Fast forward to about midnight.  The girls were in bed, and I was up re-reading Breaking Dawn.  It was a nice distraction, and I was waiting to video chat with my DH, who said he'd be online around that time.  I heard the ring of the video call, and came to sit at the computer.  We talked a little about my appointment, and he again started reassuring me he'd be there on time.  That brought my concerns a little closer to the surface than I'd hoped, and I started to cry, asking him why he kept promising something he couldn't be sure about.  Deployments are hard on both of us, and I try to make a sincere effort not to cry on the phone or on video chats.  It doesn't make for a positive experience for either of us when that happens.  I try to save the tears for after we hang up.  This time though the pregnancy hormones and all my worry took over.

My DH smiled, and said he really wasn't making promises he couldn't keep.  I looked at him exasperated, wondering why I really had to explain how I can't control when the baby comes any more than he can control when he gets to come home.  He smiled again, and said, "what if I told you if you went into labor right now, I would be there?"

I stopped crying.  Again more smiles on his end, and he told me to come open the front door.  He was standing there holding his laptop, using our own wi-fi signal to chat with me from outside.  His commander let him come home early, and he thought it'd be a nice surprise if he shared that news by showing up at our door.  He was right.

June 10, 2011
The next morning, we discovered Daddy wasn't the only man in the family with surprises and early arrival plans.  I was feeling consistent contractions that weren't letting up.  Due to nesting urges I'd been having that week, my hospital bag was packed and ready, and I had made plans for our girls with friends.  Thanks to some sweet and amazing young women from church, my house was clean and spotless.  If my husband was caught off guard, he didn't show it.  No doubt still feeling the effects of jet lag, he dug through his deployment bags for a few toiletries, and we took off for the hospital. 

June 11, 2011, 1:57 am
Benjamin Scott arrived.  He was 4 1/2 weeks early, but weighed in at 6 lbs 2 oz, a healthy weight considering his premature timing.

We're all very tired and a little shell shocked, but happy to all be together.  Benjamin fits right in like he's always been here.  We love every tiny toe and finger.

Before I knew my husband would be coming home, I did a lot of praying and soul searching.  I did my very best to make peace with the idea that I could be on my own in that delivery room.  When I prayed about it, I felt peaceful, and a reassurance that if that happened, I'd have the strength and help I'd need.  Faith comes before the blessings.  I was grateful to know I could do it, and even more grateful when I found out I wouldn't have to.

Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go sit on the couch, maybe fall asleep on my husband's shoulder,  snuggle my baby, and enjoying being completely wrapped up and surrounded by the people I love most.  Moments like that shouldn't be taken for granted.         

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Belly Button out of Joint

I noticed today that my belly button is a little off.  I'm not talking about the usual protruding-through-her-tee- shirt look all pregnant women get eventually (or in my case, about two months along this pregnancy).  I mean it's off-center.  For most people, male or female, pregnant or not, their belly buttons point in the same direction as their noses.  Mine now points slightly to the right.  For whatever reason, I'm off balance, a little uneven, helter-skelter, disheveled, off-sided, unsymmetrical, disproportionate, lopsided . . . I've got more! 

Perhaps the muscles on one side of my belly are more elastic than the other.  Maybe it's the way Benjamin is positioned.  Is it possible my navel has always been that way, but it takes a third pregnancy for me to notice?  The world may never know, and is most likely to never care.  I only mention it at all, because it seems to be a pretty accurate parallel to how I'm feeling.  The "of course" last-straw element that explains my mood.  We all have those little things.  The bad day you knew was coming, and naturally begins with you dropping your bowl of cereal onto your lap.  It happens, we sigh, look towards the heavens, and call the little event a "sign".  Then we move on with whatever trial we knowingly had scheduled.

I knew it'd be hard being so pregnant with my husband deployed.  Nothing has come as a surprise.  My evening heartburn kicks in about the same time my four-almost-five-year-old has a break down and starts screaming, and my two-year-old tells me she's had a potty training accident, again.  The exhaustion, the achey muscles, the too-frequent doctor's appointments, which mean babysitters, and driving, and waiting, all for a 5 minute examination and a "see ya in a few weeks" diagnosis, were to be expected.  It's funny how the knowledge that this is exactly how it'd be doesn't really make it easier. 

I know what you're thinking.

"But you're almost done!"
"Your husband will come home soon!"
"You're almost full term!"
"You're so close, aren't you happy it's almost over?"

No.  Because it's not over.  "Almost" brings no relief.  Why is it that?  Why is the last lap the hardest?  Theoretically it shouldn't be.  After so much effort, the last little bit should seem like nothing.  Yet we know from experience it's nothing like "nothing".  Think of something physically challenging you've done, and think about how you felt when you were almost done.  Did you suddenly have an extra burst of energy, and found it was over quickly, leaving you with a glorious feeling of accomplishment?  If you did, you have a special talent for glamorizing the past.

I remember climbing a mountain while my husband and I were still dating.  I saw the first of our group reach the top, and I sighed, thinking of my aching, trembling knees.  The advanced hikers were only about 20 minutes ahead of us, and yet those 20 minutes dragged on like the slow drip of a leaky faucet.  I kept myself going by imagining the incredible view we'd have at the top.  By the time I reached it however, I was so tired, I hardly looked around.  It was pretty, breathtaking even, if my breath hadn't already been taken by the extreme effort it took to get there.  Usually when we finish something difficult, the strongest emotion is relief rather than triumph.  Triumph comes later, after we've recovered somewhat, and suppressed the memory of the pain.

I think I've done this deployment routine too many times.  Perhaps so much that I've trained myself to expect the last few weeks to feel like they're the longest.  For so many obvious reasons, I'm tired, I'm off balanced, not straight, ready to fall over.  The future brings nothing but relief and good things, and all I can think about is how I'm not there yet.

So what is the answer to this part-of-life dilemma?  It's as obvious as my off-centered protruding navel in my those-don't-fit-anymore-because-I'm-in-my-last-month maternity tops. 

Keep pluggin' away.

I'm the old man with the ladder from the children's story Tikki Tikki Tembo. "Step over step, step over step, step over step"

I'm Dori from Disney's Finding Nemo. "Just keep swimming, just keep swimming, just keep swimming"    

I'm the blue engine from The Little Engine that Could. "I think I can, I think I can, I think I can!"

One day finished is one day closer to the end.  Yesterday I cleaned the house after a week of being sick.  Well, except for the bathrooms, which are still gross, and the laundry that still needs to be put away and the last load folded.  I did finish the vacuuming though. 

Today is my parents' 29th anniversary!  They are living proof that love survives hardship.  Proud parents of five, and even happier grandparents of almost four, they have much to celebrate.  This whole "never giving up even when it's hard" thing works.  I know it does.  I'm not giving up.  I'm just complaining a little.  Beneath my verbose complaints does lie a true attempt at optimism.  My hormones are in overdrive (shocking, huh?) and I've felt overdue for a date.  What better day than today?  29 years ago today my parents made a sacred commitment to each other, and although still watching from above, to me.  I couldn't go on a real date, obvoiusly.  So I did what I could think of as "the next best thing".  I put on makeup, and since we missed church last Sunday due to yucky colds, that was a first in over a week and half.  I dressed as nicely as possible considering the watermelon tummy.  I put on the necklace my mom gave me for Christmas, and the earrings my husband gave me before he deployed for the holidays.  I even brushed and styled Anny's hair, for which she was not grateful even though it did look cute.  We had a delicious lunch at Wendys.  The service was pathetic, we waited for our "fast food" for 15 minutes, and I had to go back to the counter 4 times for items they forgot to give us.  However they have a new berry salad, it's very good.  I purchased tickets to that great romantic comedy Kung Fu Panda II.  The movie was silly . . . ok, stupid, but we still had a good time.  Evening is now approaching, which will bring on the bedtime routine, and one more day to tick off. 

I wonder if the little blue engine would have made it if she were expecting, and carrying a few cute little blue cars of her own?  Perhaps the broken down circus train wouldn't have asked her for help.  Nah- who am I kidding?  Of course they would have asked!  They would have taken one look at her, observed her overflowing coal car and little blue cabooses in tow, seen she was a train with hidden strength, unafraid of a challenge, and known she'd say "yes".     



Did you note the airplane in the background?  He's also symbollic to my life, and definitely belongs in the picture.  I think ya'll can figure out how without my addition of another paragraph or three to this post.   



 



    

Singing Singing all the Day

"I'm small I know, but wherever I go, the grass grows greener still . . ."

It's a bit of a challenge to keep the household running smoothly while in my third trimester, Daddy away, and two little ones at home.  We've kept busy with what we can.  Here's some small things we've been doing:

• decorating Benjamin and the girls' rooms (photos to be posted of both in a later entry)
• playing with visiting family
• sewing a baby quilt for Benjamin (again, photos to be posted when it's finished)
• potty training Merrylee
• finishing up preschool activities and teeball
• making a coconut cake for Easter
• enjoying an Easter meal and egg hunt with friends
• visiting the beach (and bringing home much of the sand)

It's a short list of seemingly inconsequential things, easily glazed over.  However those small things keep my small family happy while Daddy's on another "big trip". 

I like to imagine the metaphor of a family on a hike.  The husband and wife share the load of supplies while the children skip along the sandy pathway of scattered flowers, pausing to pick a few, and place them sweetly in their shining hair.  For the parents the path turns uphill, muddy, and lonely as they hit the fork in the road that temporarily separates Daddy from the family.  As he disappears around the corner the mother is tempted to slow down, drag her feet, or even sit down on the side of the path and cry.  By resisting that urge and giving away of herself, for the children the path continues to be the same light, easy, and flowered walk it's always been, and the mother is rewarded with happy sounds of them singing, singing, all the way.  Listening to those sweet and pleasant voices makes it easier for her to keep moving, and even notice an occasional blossom or two of her own.  Their steps are small, limited to the short strides of the little ones; their progress slow and unrushed by lots of potty breaks, pauses to look at caterpillars, smell flowers, and gaze at every pretty bird or butterfly along the way.  The seasoned and strong hikers who pass them by may wonder why they are making the trip at all, as it seems they wont ever get very far.  However the maker of the path smiles upon the scene, and sees that wherever they go, the grass grows greener still.       

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I'm grateful for our Savior, Jesus Christ, who lived a perfect life of giving and service.  He gave us his life, and like him we will live again after death.  He atoned for our sins, giving us the ability to repent, and find happiness despite our imperfections and mistakes.  This Easter we celebrate our love for him, and renew our efforts to follow his example.  He will guide us through every step we take on his path, make our burdens light, and open our eyes to the beauty that surrounds us on our way.    

“Give,” Said the Little Stream, Children’s Songbook of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, 236


Cheerfully

1. “Give,” said the little stream,
“Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.”
“Give,” said the little stream,
As it hurried down the hill;
“I’m small, I know, but wherever I go
The grass grows greener still.”

Chorus
Singing, singing all the day,
“Give away, oh! give away.”
Singing, singing all the day,
“Give, oh! give away.”

2. “Give,” said the little rain,
“Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.”
“Give,” said the little rain,
As it fell upon the flow’rs;
“I’ll raise their drooping heads again,”
As it fell upon the flow’rs.

3. Give, then, as Jesus gives,
Give, oh! give, give, oh! give.
Give, then, as Jesus gives;
There is something all can give.
Do as the streams and blossoms do:
For God and others live.

Words: Fanny J. Crosby, 1820–1915
Music: William B. Bradbury, 1816–1868. Arr. © 1989 IRI

You may see the music and listen to the traditional version of this song here

Deuteronomy  16:17
17 Every man shall give as he is able, according to the blessing of the Lord thy God which he hath given thee.

Little Brothers

Although the title may suggest otherwise, we did not recently find out we're expecting twin boys. I have had a "feeling" we're expecting a son. Usually my maternal instincts are wrong though, so we'll see.

This post is dedicated to not the future brothers of Anny and Merrylee, but rather to my little brothers, Peter and Joseph. The holidays came and went with the number one man in our lives overseas. Daddy's in the Air Force, so as Merrylee often says these days in her cute little toddler voice, "it happens".

Instead of moping around the house in FL, we were graciously invited to spend Christmas and New Years with my family in VA. I have to admit there wasn't a complete lack of moping there on my part, but my little brothers, who are both taller than me now and much much cooler, were awesome, fun, hilarious, friendly, cute, witty, charming, chivalrous, and tremendously adored by their little nieces. They truly made that visit special for us. I started making a list of some of the things they did to make our visit great, but the list seemed so incomplete and didn't clearly illustrate how extraordinary my brothers really are. From cleaning dirty diapers and throw-up (a lot of both) to demonstrating an endless supply of patience for chatter and princess games, they did it all and then some. They made me laugh when I was lonely, smile and forget I was nauseous . . . I'm afraid I'm at a loss in how to describe my gratitude to them. Perhaps my feelings are best demonstrated in song.



Uncle Joe and Uncle Pete, we love you both so so much, and miss you already. I feel very much like Candice in the video, the silly and obnoxious big sister who's only claim to fame is being related to and older than Phineas and Pherb. How am I related to such incredible guys as you two??!! Just lucky I guess!!

Daughters in the Wilderness

When I am at my worst, I find strength through reading the scriptures.  I feel stronger at the core, and similar to the sensation of Tylenol after a fever, that strength spreads to the rest of me, and things seem easier.  Much of this is because spiritual feelings affect us physically.  Physically one can feel lighter, less lonely, and peaceful after reading the words of God and his prophets.

It is also no secret that blessings come from study and learning.  While studying biology, a better understanding of life is gained, as well as an appreciation for the world, it's beauty, creation, and our place in it's vast existence.  The mind is opened as the function of organisms is broken down to a cellular level.  Wonderment of the intricacy of a tiny plant, and all that goes on for it to survive, broadens how we view everything else.  New knowledge changes us, and how we think. 

The same phenomenon occurs through studying and searching the scriptures.  We gain a clearer understanding of God, and his will for us.  The scriptures provide examples of people who had trials, sorrow, and pain of their own.  Some of these people through their trials turned cold, bitter, and set a legacy of hatred, killing, and ignorance for generations of posterity.  Others faithfully and steadfastly turned to God throughout their trials.  They were hungry, and prayed for where to find food.  In danger from enemies, they prayed for where to flee to safety, or how to fight and save their families and freedom.  They made boats, crossed oceans and vast wildernesses, started new civilizations, created new governments, and built temples.

I study the scriptures, and feel physical blessings from the spiritual connection I feel with God.  I also feel the knowledge from the scriptures change how I think.  Compassion replaces frustration, as I think on experiences with my children during the day.  Patience replaces weariness when I look at the examples of other steadfast saints, with trials much greater than mine.

Such was the case as I stumbled upon a poster online, of a group of women who knew real trials, much greater than what I've had to bear.

Ancient prophet, Lehi, was warned by God of the impending destruction of his home city, Jerusalem.  God told him to take his family, and flee into the wilderness.  Lehi was a wealthy man, and years of travel without what were his "modern conveniences" that came with city living, I imagine was no small difficulty.  However he unquestioningly heeded God's warning.  His family left, and had a long and difficult journey.  That family included Lehi's sons and their families.  Children were conceived and born on that trek, yet they carried on.  Lehi had a copy of the scriptures.  He read to his family, and I know it gave them strength and direction.

The poster I found online is of the women of Lehi's family.  Daughters and wives, with babies on their hips, walking forward, steadfast with faith in their God shining in their eyes.  In the corner of the poster is a scripture, describing the experience of these women.

1 Nephi 17:1-3

1 ... And we did travel and wade through much affliction in the wilderness; and our women did bear children in the wilderness.

2 And so great were the blessings of the Lord upon us, that while we did live upon raw meat in the wilderness, our women did give plenty of suck for their children, and were strong, yea, even like unto the men; and they began to bear their journeyings without murmurings.

3 And thus we see that the commandments of God must be fulfilled. And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them; wherefore, he did provide means for us while we did sojourn in the wilderness.

I read of these women, look in their eyes in the poster, and feel some of their strength pass to me.  These women loved their families.  They needed strength beyond what they were born with, so they could complete the great task before them.  Turning to God blessed them with what I know they desperately prayed for.  When we are on our knees with our most desperate prayers, aren't those prayers always about our families?  I imagine those women on their knees and in tears, pleading with God saying, "Please, help me feed my babies.  Help me wake up tomorrow, and keep moving.  Please give me strength to carry on, when on my own, I have none left".

God answered their prayers.  He gave them strength like men.  These city women, with soft, unchallenged bodies used to easy living and wealth, discovered they could live off of raw meat, travel while pregnant, give birth in the wilderness, and feed their children.

If God answered their prayers, is he not even more capable of helping me?  When I come to him through prayer, knowing my own strength has left, I know he can help me, just as he helped these women.  I do not need the same blessings.  Thankfully I do not need to learn to survive on raw meat, and live for years in a wilderness.  My trials are different, and the blessings personal to me.  I see them everyday.  After a long tiring day, I find I still have the energy to stay up with a sick baby.  A friend will call or stop by, and give me support I didn't even realize I so desperately needed.  A broken internet connection will fix itself, so we can still talk to Daddy.  I have hot water, plenty of food, a working car, good health, a washing machine, air conditioner, and internet camera.  I can talk to and see my husband who is on the other side of the world.  I am blessed and made stronger, by being able to see my many blessings, and appreciate and focus on them.  Reading the scriptures changes the way I think, and better allows me to find happiness at a difficult time. 

The women of Lehi's family didn't pray, and wake up in the comfort of their homes in Jerusalem.  I'm sure on weaker days they noticed they were still in the dirty wilderness, still tired, still had to live off raw meat, and had little ones who always needed them.  I have no doubt there were mornings where they looked around and thought, "I really hate this."

If I'm not careful it's too easy to hate my circumstances too.  I notice my dirty house I never seem to keep up with, the large stack of calendar days my husband is still away, how yucky and tired I feel, and how early my children wake up every day, not to mention that never ending list of tasks I need to complete no matter how I'm feeling.  I wouldn't trade with the women of Lehi's family though!  They found strength in God, and so can I.  They eventually reached a promised land.  They set a legacy of faith, and their posterity turned to their examples again and again, as do I.

    
Granted, the poster is romanticized a bit.  The girl in the front is beautiful, and they're in formation doing a "power walk" like in the movies.  I don't think it's necessarily meant to be realistic, but more to paint a feeling of strength and inner beauty I'm sure they had.  So what would my romantic poster look like?  If I could paint it myself, my hair would be gracefully swept back, blowing in the breeze perhaps, with Merrylee on my hip, and Anny standing by holding my hand and looking trustingly up at me.  I'd be gazing towards the sky, watching airplanes, and seeing beyond the clouds with thoughtful determination, and hope glowing from my eyes. 

We all should have motivating posters of ourselves, don't you think?  Posters that through their artwork speak the words, "I am a daughter of God.  I am daily blessed with divine strength, and can conquer any trial, just as those before me."

Nephi, son of Lehi, probably said it best when describing how God helped his family:

"...And if it so be that the children of men keep the commandments of God he doth nourish them, and strengthen them, and provide means whereby they can accomplish the thing which he has commanded them..."

Little Pink Leotards, and a Little Pink Tree

Missing Daddy is just no fun.  Merrylee, Anny, and I have to do something to keep our morale up while Daddy's away for the holidays!!!  So what do we do?  We embrace our femininity. 

Watching chick flicks is way more common than college football, and there's lots of dancing while the soccer ball is lonely in the corner.  Jim Rome's radio show is replaced with princess songs in the car, and evidence of crafts, sewing, and art projects can be found in every room of the house.  Shopping trips are as long as we want them to be (and so are the receipts!).  Each of us understands and agrees there are appropriate times for crying, whether it be at the end of Toy Story 3, or because the tin of Danish Christmas butter cookies is empty, and you were so looking forward to eating one!!!  The estrogen flows freely, as does the chocolate.  We're survivors, taking on life one pinkalicious day at a time. 

Today's girly events revolved around pink things (they often do).  Both girls are in gymnastics classes this month, and today I found a little pink leotard a friend gave to us- size 2T.  Needless to say it was worn by a very cute two year old girl to her toddler gymnastics class today.  Of course Anny has a darling pink leotard of her own too!! 

On our way home we decided to pick up our Christmas tree, rather than fight Thanksgiving crowds next week.  I'm usually a "real tree" kind of girl, but with Daddy out for the holidays, much of my decorating motivation went with him.  Buying a fake tree just seemed simpler, not to mention it will last as long as we want it to, so we can leave it up for Daddy to see after he gets back. 

"That's all fine and well" you say, "but what does that have to do with pink things?"

Great question- one I didn't think I'd be answering today.  While looking at my different options of plastic trees, the girls spotted a three foot high little pink one, and fell in love.  I love my girls, and found I completely lacked the will to say no.  Of course if you're going to buy a little pink tree, you also need a pink Christmas tree skirt, pink garland, pink ornaments, and a pink star to put on top!  The girls were so happy and excited to set up their little tree in their bedroom.  Traditionally we wait until after Thanksgiving to put up the Christmas decorations, but for an occasion like this, would you have waited?!! 

Anny summed up the entire experience with the words, "I think I'm gonna cry a happy cry because our pink tree is so beautiful!!!!"

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This slideshow is dedicated to the Prince Charming of our hearts, we're all looking forward to that special "someday" you come home!

5 points if you know the classic girly movie the original version of the song in our slideshow comes from!! (this is a fun country version of the original)

My Guitar Hero

Coming home from a deployment seems to suppress my husband's usual very frugal attitude. After the last deployment he decided we needed smart phones, and the accompanying data plans. He's not the type of guy to say I'm a stay at home mom and therefore have no need for such up to date technology. He's a true gentleman, and said if he's going to have a cool phone, then so am I.

Just before coming home this time, he decided it's time he bought a guitar. What's the only thing sexier than a good lookin' guy with an acoustic guitar? A good lookin' guy with an acoustic guitar, showing it off to his two baby girls. My guitar hero. Welcome home babe, we missed you like crazy, and everything is better with you here!

No Air

I heard the Jordin Sparks/Chris Brown song No Air on the radio the other day, and was reminded of this SYTYCD routine I saw about a year ago.  It's a beautiful dance, if you're brave enough to respect contemporary styles.  I tend to appreciate the more classical dance routines, my favorite being the ballroom waltzes, as long as the costumes are decent enough.  (What's with the new idea that to present a routine you have to be practically naked?!!)  However this dance caught me by surprise, I really love every bit of it, and have watched it over and over and over again.  Even now, a year later, it still makes me cry.   

Want to know what it feels like the first few moments after saying goodbye to a spouse leaving for a deployment?  If you do you're crazy, because as you can imagine, it's miserable.  This song and routine give a glimpse though.  For me at least, it literally does feel like I'm trying to breathe with no air.  Many of my faithful readers know all too well these feelings.  Those who don't, can imagine.  It's worse than what you imagine.  The anguish, fear, heartache, anxiety, and tears- it's just not something I can even begin to describe. 

I love the arts.  I love that we can express what we can't explain in words, through music, painting, sculpture, and dance.  The choreographers who made this dance seemed to know me!


Now that you've seen the dance, I want to end on the happy note that I'm grateful for my life support team when I'm out of air.  There are times when I know I couldn't breathe on my own if it weren't for my family, devoted friends, and my faith.  I'm looking forward to breathing well again soon, very soon.

When you're 30 and 4 . . .

I wish I remember the story it was from, but I remember someone reading to me that on our birthdays, we are not just the age we are turning, we're all of them together. For example, on Anny's birthday last week, she didn't just turn four. She was one, two, three, and four. She is a compilation of all those ages. She still has her silly three-year-old moments, her teary two-year-old moments, and her snugly one-year-old moments.  Four is just another begining, where new things can be added to her days of being three, two, and one.

I have to admit I have my two-year-old moments, where I just want to cry to my mommy and no amount of good advice or logic will make it better.  I have my seventeen year old moments where I can't help but daydream about the boy who likes me, (accept in my current self, that boy is the man I love and married!).  Then of course there's the mature twenty-seven-year-old-moments when I've realized there's no time for crying, because someone needs to be strong, cool minded, and solve whatever problem we're facing.  While Scott's still away and I'm the only adult home, that someone has to be me!  Being a big girl can mean having to ignore your two-year-old self (and three, and four, and even seventeen . . .) 

Thirty is a big birthday- one of those some people dread, others fully celebrate, but is rarely passed over unnoticed. I think that's because thirty is typically viewed as the official end of youth. The adult world now must admit, you belong. Why, do you ask, have I given this a bit of thought? No, I didn't just turn thirty. My husband did, and his birthday truly did slip by unnoticed! On the phone he said he wasn't telling anyone it was his birthday, "because I don't know what military guys do to celebrate birthdays, but it probably isn't good".

He's probably right. I don't see them digging up an ice cream cake and candles. Still though I was a little sad to see his big day come and go so very un-celebrated. But hey, we can celebrate when he's home again. He's not one to turn down a late birthday party or gifts. Perhaps we'll save the big celebration for next year, because after all, at 31, he's also 30, 29, 28, 27, 26 . . .

Here's to the July birthdays in the Andrews family!!!  Happy birthday Anny and Daddy!!!  Merrylee and I love you very much! 

Will you still need me, will you still feed me, when I'm 30 or 4? 

Of course- what a question!!!!!!