Shot in the head

Katie is not well.   She seems fine and cheerful but every time Lilyana takes her blood pressure the news is not good.  According to the new doctor kit Lilyana received from Santa, Katie needs repeated shots in her head.  These injections go right into her skull.  She actually deals with this pain very well.  Usually she receives her shots quickly as she is passing by her sister with her new walker.  Modern medical science is amazing!

Santa also brought us a Furreal (sp?) cat.  It better change its attitude.  That cat hisses at me all the time.  I’m definitely not giving “Snowy” any canned tuna tomorrow.

I love Christmas.  Mostly I love being at my Mom’s house.  It’s a vacation from constant cooking and cleaning.  I have concluded that when you have small children a vacation still isn’t a vacation.  Someone still has to plan what everyone is going to eat, wear and where they will sleep. 

Katie slept in my room at Mom’s.  I had hoped that she would be able to stay in the room with Lilyana but it was not to be.  Katie’s crying never bothers Lilyana at home but over Christmas it was waking her up.  Katie slept through the night two times back in 1934.  I have no idea what to do with that kid.  I guess I just didn’t realize what a good sleeper Lilyana is.  Katie fusses off and on all night.  I was ignoring it but it was just keeping me awake all night long.  I don’t mind letting babies cry but this is like a low key fussing that she does off and on for hours.  About a month ago I started giving up and bring her in my bed which is something I swore I would never do.  Turns out…..I will do anything for sleep.  I am open to suggestions here.

The clock is ticking really loud around here.  It seems like we are just trudging through these last two months waiting for the inevitable without the ability to enjoy them.  What should we sell? What should we put in storage? We do have some big decisions to make around here.  As I said before, with the Army everything changes.  Last time we were set to move to Texas and one week before we were to move the Army said, “WAIT, hang on, you’re not moving for another four months.  And, it won’t be Texas.”  I think the Army should pay for me to cover my gray hair.

I almost made it through the Christmas Eve service without crying.  I started to get teary and then Katie threw some Puffs and the lady next to us.  Usually they keep me too busy to cry J

Praying for babies

A sweet friend gave birth to her miracle baby today.  I am thrilled for her and I wish I was in Savannah to hold that little boy.  Between that and you know, the birth of our Savior, I guess I have babies on the brain.

Several years ago…

“The baby’s heartbeat is very slow”  The doctor tried to explain it to me.  “I have seen babies make it but it’s rare.”  I decided to pray for a miracle.  I had just had one miscarriage so surely the Lord would heal this baby.  “Come back in a week and we’ll check the baby again”

If you have ever been pregnant you know that a week is an eternity even in a healthy pregnancy.  It was probably the longest week of my life.  The next week the news was worse.   The heartbeat was even slower.  Repeat for two more weeks.  Hubby and I went to the mountains for the weekend.  Looking back it seems rather strange but I guess he was trying to distract me.  It was impossible to think about anything else.  The baby inside me was dying and I was helpless to save it.  It was a gut wrenching pain.  Years of praying, hoping and yet again for some reason, my body couldn’t do it.  As I lay in the hospital in the recovery room a small child was in a bed near me.  He cried nonstop for his Mommy.  Each time he cried out “Mommy” I was sure I was going to die.

Only another woman who has experienced this can understand.  My Mom and hubby held me while I sobbed and hated to see me in pain but it’s different when it’s your body.  The desire to have a child overtook my life.  Baby things and pregnant woman are everywhere. They complained about nausea and being tired.  I wanted to scream at them.  I still hate to hear these complaints. 

Why is this a silent pain?  I find out all the time of woman who long to be mothers and don’t have kids for whatever reason.  I thought of starting a support group…we could all sit in a circle and cry. Doesn’t that sound fun? J Having my girls has healed some of the pain.  I told a friend recently though, “I think we will still cry for these children when we are eighty years old”  Sometimes I look at the girls and wonder what my other kids would look like.  (Of course, I never would have pictured them as blond with blue eyes)  We all agree that Lilyana, my first miracle, is proof that Jesus has a sense of humor.

The story above was not the end of my loss.  More pain followed but God was always there.  I would like to quote some great scripture and tie all this in to Christmas but I’m tired.  My miracles keep me in a constant state of gratitude and sleep deprivation.  How about this…

I prayed for years for a baby

My friend had a baby today

Jesus came into this world as a baby.

Let me know if there is anyone that needs prayer in this department.  I am 3 for 3 in praying for babies!!!  In all seriousness I have books I can recommend and scripture I can pray with you.  Don’t ever give up on God!

Happier things

First, thank you guys so much for all the comments about the last blog entry and for the compliments!  I will try not to post any more tear jerking things for a bit.  That was depressing.  I know there are some people reading that I have not had the luxury of meeting.  Hoping my little bro can help me upload some pics of us over the holidays.

So, on the opposite side of the issue, let’s think about the good things about being married to a Soldier.

Well, I have a HOT man in uniform that lives in my house.

When I was pregnant and couldn’t reach my shoes my husband did some crazy knots in those bad boys! Seriously, it was pretty cool.

We will never get lost in a corn maze. “I can find a point on the map in the dark but I can’t find my wife in the church sanctuary” So, we will never be lost BUT we can’t find each other at church.

He can drive in insane traffic while the baby is screaming but still concentrate.  While trying to find our way out of D.C. during rush hour, she was SCREAMING,

     Me: “Do you want to pull over until I can get her to calm down?”
     Soldier: “Nope, it’s not bothering me.  Just like reading a map while being shot at”

He can take you down.  At least, I assume he can.  I have never actually witnessed this just heard stories.

I know he can take care of us.  If some horrible calamity befalls us I know he can find food and knows which bugs we can and cannot eat.  That sounds funny but is oddly reassuring.

I am fairly certain he knows how to perform minor surgeries with a #2 pencil and some water.

To see this same Soldier, Daddy, put ribbons in her hair and search for her special bear, well, it just melts me. 

Ok, now some good things about being an Army family

Health care.  Nuff said

I would say job security but that’s changing.  (This is a politics free blog so I’ll leave it there)

Relationships with other Army wives can’t be explained or duplicated.

I’m already at my Mom’s waiting for Santa while hubby is still busy saving the world.  I was hoping to get both girls to sleep in the same room but alas, it was not to be.  Katie is bunking up with me.  It should be interesting next summer.  I did look at the new preschool this week.  They do have small pottys so Airborne school will not be required.  (Read previous entries)

In closing, apropos of nothing, I will say that “Tank Crossing” is my second favorite traffic warning sign.  If there is a chance that while driving on post, or anywhere else for that matter, I will come across a tank, this is information I need.  What are the traffic rules there?  I don’t know but you can be sure I will yield the right of way.

“Fish crossing” is my all time favorite traffic sign.  I saw this sign on a bridge outside my husband’s hometown near Seattle.  What is that sign telling us?  Even my northwestern hubby was stumped.  Are they telling us that during flooding fish might be on the bridge?  Why do I need to know this?  Are they giant man eating fish?  Will I need to yield to them?  Are they salmon swimming upstream that might be jumping through the air and attack my car?  Perhaps they are protected by some crazed environmentalist and I am required to help them cross the road to get back in the water…..oops, almost got political again.

Hardship Tour

Hardship tours

This post is hard to write.  To other military people it’s just depressing and things you have all been through before.  Don’t read it.  To non-military….well, maybe it will make you hug a veteran.  I’m going home tomorrow for Christmas.  Mom will make me feel better and I’ll do a happier post later this week.

Christmas music is playing the background and both girls are sleeping.  The house is too quiet.  I stared out the window and started to cry.  I am having such a hard time enjoying this holiday.  He won’t be here for the next Christmas, or birthdays, or first day of school…or for big kisses at the end of each day.  I hate it.

Some women mourn the death of their husband who is just fine, but deployed.  I cry because I miss a man who is downstairs. I read somewhere that the Army calls this feeling “anticipatory grief”.  I just call it “crap I wish my kids didn’t have to go through”

Last time he was gone for this long I did ok when Lilyana was awake.  “Stay busy” is a what all the women tell each other…especially to the girls going through this the first time like I was.  Every night when I would put Lilyana in the stroller to walk I would start to cry.  You see, it’s bad to have time to think.  Walks and naptimes were not my friend.

At first I thought I was crazy but now I know so many other women who need a glass of wine or Ambien to sleep when he’s gone.  Another friend, like me, just tries not to sleep.  She stays awake as long as possible watching TV.  Last time he was gone someone broke into my car in the driveway right under Lilyana’s room….I slept fully armed for about a month.  DON’T come over without calling first when he’s gone.  It could be your last move.

I am going to my Mom’s for awhile this time.  Not sure what I will really do for the long haul.  It will be hard to see the house packed up.  This is the house where Katie joined our family.  Her sweet perfect nursery will be dismantled and we will move, again.  Lilyana will leave her wonderful little school and friends across the street.  She will miss her trampoline.  Her favorite thing. I will miss our great church and wonderful Sunday school class.  I will also miss the girls in our unit.  Our weekly Bible study keeps me sane. 

I couldn’t do what he does.  There is NO way I could leave the girls for this long.  I cry for him.  I will probably need to be picked up off the driveway after I watch him kiss the girls goodbye.  This sucks, I hate it.  I’m crying writing this.  I wonder if Katie will know who he is when he gets back.  (If anyone mentions Skype right now I will slug them) Skype is NOT Daddy throwing you in the air, or teaching you the monkey bars, or kissing boo boos.

Some people will think this sounds nuts but I wish he was leaving tomorrow.  He does too.  The sooner he leaves, the sooner he’s back.  It’s like a band aid.  Just rip it off.  Waiting for him to leave is always worse than him actually leaving.  I will get in a groove and of course, stay busy.  The difference this time is the questions I will be answering, or trying to answer.

His leaving is not news around here it’s just that the time is fast approaching.  He’s leaving for about 18 months.  18 months.  Let that sink in....sigh.  He will be able to visit us about the 5 month mark for two weeks.  That will be another tough goodbye.

I’ll live.  I’ve done it before.  As a sweet friend reminds me “God is in control, not Uncle Sam” I am praying that the orders will change.  They might.  Change is the nature of the Army.

Sometimes I stand outside Katie’s room and listen to her cry.  I don’t enjoy it.  I would love to scoop her up every time and make everything ok.  If things get too bad I go in her room and comfort her.  The other day I wondered if that is what God feels like.  He probably hates that I am listening to Christmas carols and crying.  He was probably standing right behind me as I stood looking out the kitchen window.  He probably hates to hear my cry and if gets too bad, he always scoops me up and helps me make it through this crazy Army life.

Three wise men on a sugar high

I am constantly baking or decorating something with Chocolate.  I really wish I was into something else.  My Soldier complains that there is always sweet stuff lying around but also complains if I tell him not to touch it because it’s for someone else.  I have tried to make a point of always giving him a sample.  After completing my latest experiment the other night I gave him a taste.  “Wow.  That’s a lot of sugar”  I considered that a complement.  Isn’t that was Christmas is all about?  Giving our friends and family Type 2 diabetes while celebrating the birth of our Savior?  Maybe the three wise men should have brought gold, frankincense and insulin.

My Soldier often leaves important items on the kitchen island that he wants to remember to take to work.  One book in particular has been making me crazy but I haven’t moved it.  I have been doing all my holiday cooking around “Light Infantry Tactics for small teams”  I am tired of looking at this book but if someone tries to attack my baked goods I will take them DOWN.  Unless, that is, they are a large team.  In that case I’m screwed.

I started reading “Seal Team Six” on the recommendation of my mom.  Last night the Soldier was explaining to me all the problems with a book like this.  Sigh.  Once I watched “Black Hawk Down” with my hubby and my brother, also military.  It was excruciating.  Does this problem cross all professions?  Do women married to bankers constantly get told the unrealistic portions or inaccuracies of the movie “Wallstreet?”

I want to say that even though I pick on hubby and his Army way of thinking, he is an amazing person.  He can do anything.  He loves these little girls.  I love to see a man in uniform searching the house for a missing hair bow.  I can’t imagine how he goes from work to our house.  Talk about a change of scenery! Estrogen anyone?

Thing 2 has now mastered the stairs.  Going up is no problem.  Going down has been proving to be painful.

Isn’t a blog supposed to be a recap of your day or a certain event?  This is basically just me rambling on and on.  Is this entertaining anyone?  I’m getting a little bored with myself.

P.S. I was at the mall tonight and you guessed it....he asked if I ever flat iron my hair...again!

Jesus rides in a Chinook

After posting my first blog I think I should make a few general statements.

There were countless typos in that thing!

I love commas and use them more than anyone should and in all the wrong places.

I can identify Army helicopters by their sound.

This is my latest talent.  The Black Hawks are loud but not crazy.  If my Pottery Barn candle wall décor is shaking then it is one Chinook.  (I must insert that I have very deep feelings for this candle holder.  The Soldier doesn’t like it because of the many nail holes required to keep it on the wall.  I am beginning to wonder if he is trying to organize flight patterns in a manner to destroy it!  If these Chinooks break my candle, swirly, circle thing I am going to send the Army a bill!)  Anyway, one Chinook rattles the wall, two Chinooks wake up the girls and three or more makes me thing Jesus is returning.  Seriously, I once got out of bed to look.  It wasn’t Jesus.  It is cool to think how scary that must be for the bad guys. J

The day didn’t start well when Thing 1 announces “Mommy, I didn’t get poop on the stairs! Aren’t you happy?”  I then proceeded to break a plate on the floor while making breakfast.  The only thing worse than a broken glass is broken glass when Thing 2 is spending her entire life trying to eat all the dangerous objects she can find.  

I take the girls to the mall often not to shop but just to get out of the house and eat Chick-fil-a.  I have issues with that place.  Why does the kiosk man ask me every time "ma’am do you ever flat iron your hair?”

I want to say…really dude? Can’t you see that I am pushing a double stroller and have carrots stuck to my shirt?  I spent the morning wondering why Thing 1’s poop was blue and cleaning glass off the floor but sure I made time for the flat iron and fake eyelashes. (Actually, I think the eyelashes have come out only once since the baby was born and that was to a Change of Command ceremony where there are lots of fancy and important people).  Anyway I digress, NO, I did not have time to fix my hair! I just kept walking.  Then I looked down at my stroller at two girls in coordinating outfits with matching hair bows.  Sigh.  I always find the time to make them look perfect. 

I made cake pops for Thing 1’s birthday party.  I am obsessed with cake pops and perfecting them has taken over my life.  I highly recommend you do not try to make them.  They take forever and you will never get them to look like Bakerella’s.  This evening I was fighting my cake pops and my Soldier walks into the kitchen.  Now, I should note that he often has very good suggestions that save me time and energy but today when he asked “wouldn’t that look better if the chocolate wasn’t so thick?” I thought about stabbing him with a cake pop.  In related sugar news, blue ice cream with Daddy the night before = blue poop.  Daddy was busted again. Another mystery solved by Momma who sees ALL.

Side note for non Army people - ACU’s are the uniform you see the guys in all the time.  The camo.  I can’t remember what it stands for.  In the Army, EVERYTHING is an acronym.  They were called BDU’s or Battle dress uniforms but that never made sense to me either.  “battle dress?”  What are the redcoats coming or something?  Anyhow…someone decided BDU’s were out and ACU’s are in.  (yes, yes, I know they changed the pattern. Details)

Earlier this afternoon another Soldier came by the house to pick up something.  Both the girls got so excited when he came up the walk but were immediately disappointed.  When you’re small, everyone in ACU’s looks just like Daddy.  This mistaken identity happens quite often.

“Does he work with my Daddy? Where is MY Daddy?” she asks me.

 

Her question reminded me of the month that is leering at me from the calendar.  I hate the calendar. It made me wonder for the 100^th time how I will ever explain it to her and I started to cry.