Making Beanies, Making Stories, Listening to... Christmas Music?

I've been making a lot of hats. To sell. Remember?

I've been averaging about 2 a day. I would like to be able to do a little bit more, but I have to do other things like entertain my child and fix meals and clean. It's a travesty, I know. Fortunately, E thinks that cleaning is just about the most fun a kid can have, so at least the latter (lattest?) is entertaining. She gets a big kick out of stealing her baby wipes with which to clean various surfaces . Apparently, it takes half a pack to clean her Little Tykes car (sigh). And tonight I had a much-needed coffee group outing with the other ladies from S's battalion. I always look forward to those, and this one was especially fun because A) I didn't have to host it, B) the colonel's wife hosted and she always has the most fun foods--I swear, that woman is a pinterester's dream. She also had the entire house smelling like apple cider and it was decorated like a Martha Stewart orgasm. Loved it. C) We had some new faces--it's usually the same 6-8 of us that show up to those things, but this time we had like 13 ladies in attendance (and one 7-year-old and one 6-month old). And D) because it helps me feel like a real live human being.

So, yeah... Another reason why I am not cranking them out. Here are the two I did yesterday, though:

Ooh, looks like I missed a stitch--need to go back and fix that (oops). I really like how this one looks, but boy did it take a long time to make!

This one was commissioned by a friend for her nephew.

Please excuse the fact that I look the pictures with my cell phone and on the sink in the master bath. I was crocheting in bed and then felt the need to take pictures immediately upon finishing. Voila. Now you know what kind of crappy counters we have.

I'll post the ones I worked on today when I get around to it--I did some newsboy caps which are particularly adorable, especially on cute little toddler heads. Let me know if you would like to commission one--remember, anything I make from them is going directly into our adoption fund.

And, before going to sleep, I have gotten back into the habit of writing before sleeping. Which is weird, because my writing hour used to be first thing in the morning. Now, that seems like some sort of personal brand of torture. No more for this night owl. I'm only doing about 1000 words a night, which isn't bad, but isn't great. But, because I am working on something that takes place in the dead of... snow... there is lots of Christmas music. I know, I know, it isn't even October yet, Halloween hasn't taken place much less Thanksgiving, but I roll on the Costco timeline. Which roughly translates to: the Christmas season begins at the end of July.  Thank you, Costco, for keeping the spirit ever alive. (And I say this with not a hint of sarcasm).

Anyway, when I originally came up with this story, it was sometime in the November/December plane of existence, because the radio stations were playing Christmas music (which I am a total sucker for). I had gone with S to work for something or other, and while he ran inside (this had to be winter of 2007 for anyone who's counting), I listened to the music and came up with a story to go along with it. I kept meaning to write it down, but never really did. And now that I am ready for it, I need the music to get me in the mood. And it's working like a charm, I might add. Go Mormon Tabernacle Choir/Air Force Band. You guys rock.

Recollecting a Goiter

Me (while looking at www.weather.com): Ugh, it's going to be warm tomorrow.

S:Whosawhatsits?

Me: It's going to be warm. 73.

S: (Makes a weird what-the-hell-is-wrong-with-you face)

Me: What? I like fall. I like the sixties.

S: It is good sweatshirt weather...

Me: See? I can be a bum all of the time and no one can blame me.

Except, perhaps, for Overly Sensitive Military Wives (OSMW). They hate sweatshirts and jeans. But, you know what, they can kiss my Ga Tech sweatshirt wearing behind.

Anyway... Know what else fall means? Warm clothes for the kiddo! Except, erm... I put her in her jeans (which fit perfectly right now... well, with the elastic inside band pulled as tight as possible) and one of my favorite long-sleeved shirts... And her belly button was hanging out.

Tragedy, guys. A massive tragedy.

It's such a cute shirt, too. It's from Gap, long sleeved, with a pink sparkly poodle on the front and a little tulle tutu edge at the hem. Adorable. And now, relegated to the pack-me-away pile. After doing some quick reconnaissance of the 3T clothes--

(Me: How do you spell reconnaissance? S: r-e-c... (etc). You know, you could use reconnoiter. That's a weird one. Me: What does that mean? Is it a goiter that you recall in your mind? S:I'm going to just... watch... football...now...)

--And 3T clothes? Not so many. We have one pair of jeans, but the jeans are still a little long (her torso always grows faster than her legs) a couple dresses and about 4 shirts. No sweaters. Since S had staff duty last night (aka 24 hours of mandatory babysitting) and came home to sleep this morning, I took the munchkin out to the mall to see if we could find her some clothes for the increasingly chilly weather (the highs have been in the mid sixties... W00t). We hit the jackpot at Baby Gap, and came home with this treasure trove of goodies:

 

(Pretend you see another long-sleeved shirt like the cat one, only with a dog on it... No picture on gap.com *sad face*)

 

 

I'm not entirely sure how we ended up leaving with only black and white clothing, but at least I won't have to worry about matching... I  got a great deal, though. Everything was on clearance and was eligible for an additional 25% off, and then I get a 10% off military discount (Tacoma Mall Gap FTW! The one at my parents' mall won't give a military discount on top of a discount... suckage). The most expensive thing I bought her was the dress, and it came out to $11.47. Everything else was around $5 a piece. I couldn't have spent that on used clothes at a consignment sale, ya'll.

 

And yet, I feel guilty. I love shopping for my kiddo, and obviously she needed the clothes, but it would have been so much better for our adoption fund if she just held off on the growth spurt a little bit. Seriously, child isn't even 2 yet, and she still measures in the 97th percentile (in height) for 2-year-olds (she's in the 50th for weight).  I'm glad I was able to get a good deal, and I seriously wish I didn't feel like I had to watch my pennies...

 

I didn't buy anything for myself, though. So, I guess this means I have to wear jeans and sweatshirts all fall... Darn...

 



Mandatory Fun

Tomorrow is S's unit's mandatory fun day... I mean "Organizational Day." I think pretty much everyone jokes about "mandatory fun," and we're no exception. If you aren't familiar with the term, essentially, a unit sets aside a day for "team building" with sports and games and food. Usually, families are invited, and everyone gets to wear civilian clothes, and just "have fun." Think of it as a civilian company picnic. I'm not going to lie... we usually do have fun. But it's just so much better to whine and complain about being required to do things you might actually enjoy.

So, S gets to start having fun at 6:50. E and I will wait until 10:30 to join the good times, which is good, because I need to stick my baked beans back in the oven for at least an hour.

Did I forget to add that we're having potluck sides? The MWR (Morale, Welfare, and Recreation. Don't ask me where the food service part of that fits in) will be grilling hamburgers and hot dogs, me thinks, and this means the rest of us were asked to bring a side. As with every other potluck, my husband asked that I make my grandfather's baked beans. No big deal, they are fantastic.

However, apparently, at about 6 o'clock this evening, one of the other lieutenants requested that I make pulled pork. I am incredibly flattered that my pulled pork was good enough to be requested (if you think back, you know I made 4th of July lunch/dinner for my husband's soldiers and a few of the other officers)... He told this particular coworker that I would have needed a little more warning than that to pull off pulled pork. Technically, I could have still done it, but I wouldn't have been able to start until at least 8pm, and I would have had to stay up all night while the meat smoked.

Now, I am kind of wishing I did have everything to smoke one of those bad boys, just to make the people happy...

And now I feel like Monica on Friends.

Higher Education and the Military Spouse

Every few months, I toy with applying to a PhD program. Having those three letters behind my name has been a personal goal since as far back as I can remember, but in more recent years, it's held less... appeal. PhDs are good for researching and teaching, and I'd probably much rather teach than research, but after working for a university, I have found I have little taste for the politics that go with such a career tract. But then I think back to my time in writing programs. I will always regret not sticking to creative writing for my master's degree, and I will probably always wonder why I didn't pursue a creative writing undergraduate degree. Because I really learned so much in those programs, and they were some of the most fun I ever had.

I could do that on a daily basis and be happy, I think; workshops and writing exercises and thinking creatively. I could do that. But there are so many reasons for not going after it:

(One)
I can write without a PhD. I can write without my M.A. and I can write without my B.S. I don't need any of those degrees to be a writer, though I am sure they contribute greatly to my craft. All I have to be is a great writer (and an even better query-letter author).

(Two)

There are very few Creative Writing PhD programs.

(Three)

There are even fewer Creative Writing PhD programs even remotely close to Army installations. As in: one (on a good day).


Number three? Yeah, that's a huge issue. It's really difficult to pursue a degree when you can't physically be there to pursue it. And the U.S.? Not so much with the distance learning PhD programs, either. Or even reputable universities who offer distance learning to graduate students. Period.

My Ga Tech graduation in 2008

My M.A. graduation in 2010 (that's my boss shaking my hand)

As a military spouse, I feel I am inundated with "higher education" opportunities in all aspects of life: email, Internet, on post, everywhere. Would I like higher education opportunities? Hell yes! Are any of them geared towards the military spouse who has already been awarded a Bachelor Degree or higher? Um... Not so much. Are any of the geared towards a military spouse who is married to an officer? Hell no. I very much appreciate all of the hard work and focus that has gone to educate military spouses... I just wish someone would recognize that there are some of us that don't fit into the "bubble."

I think some reputable U.S. universities could really take advantage of an untapped demographic if they marketed a hybrid/distance-learning program to military spouses who are looking to complete a master's degree or higher. It's possible to do--I've found several in the United Kingdom that would suit my needs (and are actually more affordable than a required-residency program here in the U.S... No, I don't get how it's cheaper to be an international student, either). The University of Lancaster and the University of Birmingham (Birmingham 1.0, that is) both offer distance learning PhD programs in Creative Writing.

Am I considering one?


Maybe. We'll see how number one works out for me. And what kind of funding I can get... Cause this having 2 degrees and no college loans whatsoever? Totally working for me.

Communication is Key

When S was deployed in 2006, we had amazing communication. I wrote him at least 2 letters a day, usually more. We emailed, instant and video messaged (these were the days before Skype, so it was on horrible, yahoo or Aim chats), and talked on the phone everyday. He bought an Iraqi cell phone, and my parents added an international calling plan to their service (did I mention I was living with them and commuting to Georgia Tech at the time?); I was able to call him to wake him up in the mornings, and he could call me before he went to bed in the evening (if there were no communication blackouts, that is). We talked all. The. Time. I used to joke that it is what kept us together, but as more and more of the other couples in his unit began to break apart, that may have rung true.

We're still pretty fantabulous, but not like we were, then. Then, we survived on communicating well with one another. As we've moved to adjusting to him back in the US, adjusting living with one another, adjusting to him leaving the Army to become a student, moving into our own house, graduating, getting a big girl job, graduate school, becoming a family... that ability to communicate that way has been tested. It's sometime much harder to actually talk to someone, especially when letters and email and instant messages have defined the way two people "talk" to one another for so long.

The first time I think we struggled--really struggled-- to communicate was about six weeks after he returned from Iraq. He had flown home to Georgia for the holidays, and we were driving back to Oklahoma to end [his] terminal service (ETS). I'm not going to lie: I was in a funk. I am still not sure what was wrong with me, but I was having a very difficult time with the transition. Perhaps part of it was the fact that we left for Oklahoma the morning of December 26. Perhaps it was missing out on "key holiday time" with my family to spend fourteen hours in the car to go stay with people I didn't really know. Or perhaps it was fear, that, for the first time, we were going to be living--actually living--together. We had been married for a year and a half, and the most time we had ever spent together at once was 2 weeks. And I found I couldn't really talk to my husband, and I didn't know why.

Eventually, we were able to get through that. And a couple years later, we were enjoying the best communication of our relationship. We had recently moved into our first house (yes, we lived with my parents for quite awhile--a combination of being poor college students and the fact that S wasn't receiving half of his education fund, which led to 2 years of appeals processes), and were able to exist comfortably. I can't remember how it started, but we began just sitting outside that summer and spring, sipping on Scotch Whisky while S smoked a cigar. We talked for hours, about everything, and it was probably the healthiest our marriage has ever been. We were completely in-tune with one another, and it was pretty awesome.

Then there was a commissioning, the Basic Officer Leadership Course (BLOC), a baby, moving cross-country, hypothyroidism. The wires slowly met a disconnect, and communicating with S has become less seamless than it once had been. Don't worry, we're still pretty fantastic at talking with one another, but it seems less... natural. More forced. And I find that sometimes, I just don't know what to say--or how to say it, perhaps--like I did a few years ago.

It's not bad, it's just frustrating. I am trying to figure out how to get back to "that place"--the one we had when he was deployed, and again a few years later. I'm not really up for recreating a deployment, but I would love to recreate late-night chat time. I am hoping now that his unit's mission is over for the summer and the Olympics have officially come to a close, we will be able to have some real adult conversation time once E goes to bed. I think we have a lot to talk about, a lot that I am holding back because I just don't know how to go about saying (maybe I can draw pictures!), and it needs to come out!

Cats Really Are Disgusting

S's cat just puked on my freshly-cleaned floor. Twice.

I told you not to lick all the plastic bags, you small, meowing douchebag.

Oh, well, I am sure one of the dogs will lick it up.



And if that didn't send you gagging, I'm going to just explain how incredibly insane motherhood can make some people. And by some people, I mean me.

So, tonight was coffee group. I am sure I have explained what coffee group is in the past, but I have no idea where, so here's a quick recap: the officer and senior NCO spouses get together once a month or so to socialize and discuss any upcoming events, business, what have you. They are typically themed, hosted by a different spouse each month, and really accomplish nothing but some good conversation.

This month, it just so happened that coffee night fell at the same time as a company social event S had to go to. Usually, when I have coffee group, she and S have daddy-daughter time, and all I have to worry about is me dying in a horrific car accident either to or from the event. But, as E was invited to neither event, so had to leave her with our neighbors for a couple hours (we trade off babysitting). She was totally excited about this; they have 3 girls and a giant playroom full of toys. I dropped her off, and she just said "okay, bye bye," when I asked her for a kiss and told her to be good.

Meanwhile, I was a puddle of anxiety five time worse than when I leave her with her father. Some of my mom fears:

• She'll fall down the stairs and kill herself (she is getting pretty good with the stairs, but she'll still get excited sometimes and flail around like a little weirdo, and it scares the crap out of me)
• She'll somehow maim herself all over the place.
• I'll get in a horrendous car accident
• S will get in a horrendous car accident.
• Everyone will die.
• Those who don't die will end up with some sort of traumatic brain injury.

Obviously, since I am now writing this (and glaring at the cat puke I will have to wipe up--stupid dogs), E and I made it out just fine. S is still out at his event, so I'll continue to agonize over him until he gets home. But, even though we both managed to make it home in one piece, I'm still going to continue to worry about things that are out of my hands: dying in a plane crash when we go to Atlanta. Dying on the way to the airport. Dying in a car crash, period. Dying on the way back from Atlanta. Dying, dying, dying, maiming, maiming, maiming. Her, me, S, all of us...

I'm not going to lie. I was a little over-dramatic before having a child, but the mom-hormones kick in and it's a little OMG all the time.

If you don't have children: consider this your warning.

Our Army Future

S had his senior rater counselling this afternoon. For those of you who are not familiar, while in the Army, each commander he has will give him an Officer Evaluation Review (OER). Since his current company commander is leaving and a new one is coming in, he had an OER done recently and today he went over that OER with the battalion commander (he met with the company commander this past week). They each tell him how he is doing (wonderfully), what he can do to improve (small things!), and what he can do/expect in the future.

He was looking forward to the counselling because A) he already knew he was getting extremely positive feedback on the OER (that's my hubby!) and B) because it was an opportunity to speak with the colonel about switching over to Civil Affairs. If you remember, this is something for which he has considering applying. After his meeting this afternoon, he came home and said he is pretty sure he is not going to apply.

The other people with whom he had been discussing the branch  were all incredibly positive about it. And they should be--it's what they do, and they should love what they do. Those people made us aware of the negatives, but I think the battalion commander talking about it from a different angle really highlighted some of those negatives: being stuck at Fort Bragg, NC or Fort Hood, TX for the next 14 years and lots of deployments, even during peace time.

S said he just doesn't think he is up for either (obviously, there is only so much control he has over these things, but he doesn't want to go actively seeking them), especially since he really loves what he is doing now. I can't say that I can really argue--those two issues were what was holding me back from being incredibly excited about it (from my point of view, the positives are that it is a growing branch when the rest of the Army is shrinking and that the work sounds right up S's alley). So, it looks like he is going to be sticking it out with the QM.

This is actually very good news, as it means I don't have to change my blog format for quite awhile and I don't have to change my url! However, even though this is no longer something about which I have to worry, over dinner, we did discuss making these changes:

• QuarterMisses or QuarterMrs.
• Quartermistress
• S suggested this one. I pointed out that Mrs. is a shortened version of mistress.
• I also told him I had originally considered this, but decided against it lest someone get the wrong idea.
• He thinks I should make it Quartermistress, anyway, with the tag line "no, not that kind... Get your head out of the gutter!"
• I would be lying if I said I wasn't considering it.

So, we can go back to plan A! To Virginia and beyond!

Week 3: Community

I'm not entirely sure what I was thinking when I came up with this topic. But, apparently, I have to talk about my "community."

To tell the truth, I feel pretty community-less. I would very much like to be a part of the military community here, but it just doesn't appear to be meant to be. I know I've said it before, but I just feel lost here. Our neighborhood is great, but I don't feel much like a part of their community (we're at least 30 years too young). We don't live on post, so we aren't really surrounded with other people going through the same things we are...

I am no longer working or going to school, so I am not part of academia. I can honestly say I don't miss that (with the exception of the daily social interaction with other adults). Students drove me crazy, politics of working at a university drove me crazy, and I just think I would have ended up banging my head against a wall until I concussed myself.

I don't have any hobbies. I don't go to any events (wait, no, I go to a unit event every month. score).

I just feel lost.

This fall, E and I might try some mommy and me classes/activities. They have toddler tumbling and rhythm classes. maybe there is something artsy. We just need to get out of our routine, I think.

So, there you have it. I have no community. I suck. I should become a hermit.

Christmas Comes Early

We have this thing called a "coffee group" in the Army. Essentially, it's an excuse for the officer and the "management" NCO wives (or husbands!) to get together and socialize under the guise of doing unit business. Don't quote me on any of this, as my coffee group is the first of which I have ever been apart, but I dig it, nonetheless. It's usually a lot of fun to get together with your husband's colleagues' spouses and just talk about... I don't even remember what... and then spend about 5 minutes going over upcoming events to which most of us have no intention of ever going. Woo Hoo!

I have my own little hypothesis about how these groups came about. It has a lot to do with the fact that everyone used to live on post, 99% of the officer wives were house wives, and there wasn't a whole hell of a lot to do other than micromanage every teeny tiny aspect of "society" possible. Again, I'm basing this assessment off of countless biographies and autobiographies written about being an officer wive during the 1950-1970s period, none of which mentioned "coffee group." So, in my own little world, coffee group was the evil henchman pulling the strings of the Officer Wives Club (think DAR, Junior League, etc).

I'm probably way off.

Anyway, this has nothing to do with my fictional portrayal of the Hat and Glove Army wife era (that really did exist... I can't make up something that sounds that boring, now can I?), so back to coffee group.

When we got to Fort Lewis, coffee group no longer existed in S's unit. Apparently, the commander's wife and the FRSA (Family Readiness Support... Assistant?) got together for coffee and others were invited, but no one went. And I had a breastfeeding infant... No Bueno. Long story short, the battalion got a new commander and his wife brought back the glory of the coffee group in January. We meet once a month, a new person hosts every month, and she (or he) can do so wherever or however she/he wants. Our first coffee was a breakfast theme at the commander's house, we've had them at coffee shops, and learned how to make jam. It's all good fun, there's usually food, and no one really eats any of it. I thought I was hosting the coffee for this month, but apparently I was wrong!

Christmas came early, folks!



Who doesn't love an old picture of a Homecoming Tailgate?
And a ghetto one at that.

We got an email from the commander's wife (if you haven't guessed, she's our fearless leader) saying someone else was hosting... News to me, but obviously, very welcome news. You see, I was really stressing about it. Why? (A) Usually coffee group meets at the end of the month, and I am hoping to be in GA during that time. (B) I still haven't bought a carpet cleaner, so my carpets look all dingey (Washington dirt sucks, dude), and I really can't have people see how gross it looks (Except for Amanda... she and I have an understanding). (C) I wanted to do a football tailgating theme (Go Jackets!), but I don't know where I could do that that isn't totally lame. I thought about my "awesome" back yard, but I don't have any patio furniture (we thought about buying some, but it's almost winter here in WA, and that still hasn't happened, yet. Maybe next year...). And even if I did, that's still lame.

Oh, well. Thankfully: crisis averted.

Best part (other than me not hosting, of course): This month's theme. Death by Belgian Chocolate....

... Um. Yeah!

Air Show

Yesterday, we attempted to go to the air exposition at the AFB during S's lunch break. He came home, we packed up E, and headed over. We parked, walked a mile onto the tarmac and waited in a half-mile-long line to get through security. And waited. And waited. And waited. An hour and forty-five minutes into waiting, S had to go back to work. I called a friend to see if she and her family were already there, and when they weren't, I asked how close they were so I could offer them our place in line. No where close.

So, we left.

About half an hour later, I got a phone call from said friend who said "Where were you? We waited less than five minutes and walked right in."

Well, isn't that just fan-flipping-tastic? It turns out if we had gone through the back gate (many miles from our house) instead of the main gate (not many miles from our house), we would have ended up with other military families who didn't have to wait in the enormous open-to-the-public line. I wanted to scream and throw things. But I didn't. I was good.

To make up for my disappointment, S said he would take off most of today so we could try, again (he won't have a day off--weekends included--until who knows when. End of August, maybe?). We headed back in, parked further away, missed the shuttle (as in, the people who were already waiting for it had been waiting 20 minutes and there was no sign of it, so we walked. Of course, two minutes later, the shuttle showed up. Oh well). So, we walked the mile to the back gate and got in after a quick search of our camera bag, stroller, and folding chairs. Security was pretty tight--the only food allowed in was for medical reasons (as in you have diabetes and it's emergency sugar) and the only beverages allowed were breast milk/formula in a bottle or water in clear plastic. It didn't make a damn bit of difference to me, and I can appreciate the safety precautions on a military base hosting 100,000 people (well, that's how many they had yesterday).

So, we made our way up to the flight line, undid our folding chairs, and prepared to watch the show. And then it started raining. And was about 50 degrees Fahrenheit. When the visibility got bad enough, they stopped flying for a short period. We let E go see some of the helicopters and Army vehicles, snapped a few pictures, and then watched some more. I would have loved to stay until the very end, but E was getting cranky, needed a new diaper, and S had to get back to work.

It was nice to feel part of the military community for once. It felt good. Special. Cold and a little wet.... but I blame Washington for that last part.

And now for the fun part (sorry my pictures suck...I'm not much of a photographer):

Planes Over My Hammy, Weird Smiles, and My Sad Mental State: Welcome to Thursday

This morning, we were rudely awakened by the sonic booming of fighter jets.

Okay, maybe we were already awake... But still, it was quite the shock.

You see, we live very near the Air Force Base... Well, technically, it's no longer an AFB because McChord AFB and Fort Lewis were consolidated into Joint Base Lewis-McChord a few years back. Aka JBLM... Or if you ask my husband, "Jiblam." Anyway, we're so close, we can hear the playing of Taps at the end of the day (we can hear the other stuff, too, I just have no idea what it is they play at 1700 and I am not awake for reveille... Dear lord, I had better not be awake for reveille). So, you see, we're used to the occasional flight formation training taking place up above (we also get a fair amount of Blackhawks, Chinooks, and C130s, but they are much, much quieter). However, this morning was different. This morning it did not stop. They were crazy loud, and had the dogs freaking the freak out, so we had to leave. E and I went for a walk, which was actually pretty fun, because we could really see them in action.

Later, come to find out, there is an air show this weekend.... HUGE surprise to me, since I was sure the air show was back in June. Oops. Well, I'm actually pretty excited to find out I didn't, in fact, miss it, and I think we are going to try to go, S's schedule permitting.

And while all of that is incredibly exciting, it certainly takes the back seat to what really set this day on it's ear: E chipped her top, left, front tooth.

I was mopping--never happens--and she was happily cleaning the top of our "coffee table" (it's an old steamer trunk) with baby wipes she swiped. The next thing I know, she's in the bathroom flushing the toilet (her new favorite activity), so I tell her to go sit down (in angry mom tone) and turn back around to finish the last corner of the kitchen.

Crash, bang, lots of screaming. I get to her, and she's flat on her face on the hardwood floor. I pick her up, assess the damage, but all I can see if the blood from where she bit her tongue. We have some water, calm down, cuddle with her favorite stuffed animal, and then I see it... or, rather, don't see it: the corner of her tooth... or lack thereof.

I, of course, immediately freak out and wonder what the hell I am supposed to do; do I take her to the ER? Do I call the pediatrician? We don't have a dentist here, yet (oops), so I am at a complete loss. Naturally, I do what any first-time mom does, and I call my husband and cry. A lot. He gets me to calm down enough that I call a local pediatric dentist and schedule an appointment for them to look at the tooth.

And then the other shoe drops... Either we messed up and didn't enroll her with dental coverage when we enrolled me (it's separate from regular Tricare), or they messed up and didn't add her. Either way, she has no dental coverage, and won't until August 1 when they fix the situation. Dollar signs begin to flash in my head, and I can just see our entire savings account down the tube.

Fortunately for us (and unfortunately for the tooth), there is nothing they can or really want to do about it, so we're only out the cost of a dental check-up. It turned out to be a relatively harmless $61--they had prepared us for $84 just for the "emergency evaluation of a single tooth," but someone somewhere took pity on us, and we eeked out just under the cost of a dinner out to Outback (super expensive... I totally make a better steak at home, too, and for so much less money!). I feel so bad, I have vowed never to mop the floor again. I know, it's a real sacrifice, but it's for the safety of my family.

My poor baby :-(.

This whole episode only served to remind me how little money we actually "have." I mean, we're making it, and we save pretty consistently, we are able to pay all of our bills, clothe ourselves and E, buy groceries, but there isn't a whole lot left over for extras... Now, this is completely a self-imposed limit on funds. When S got promoted, we started doubling the payments we made towards our car in an attempt to pay it off early (4 years early, I might add), but it's a good practice... You know, pretending we don't have money we actually do have. I also started saving twice as much of his paycheck, as well. Good stuff, but totally makes me feel like we have no money (which we don't... because it's gone. And the savings account counts).

Anyway, in freaking out about how I will pay the thousands of dollars of dental work E will need ($61!!!! $61!!!!!), I realize how hopeless the whole adoption thing is. Which really isn't the conclusion I want to come to, since I go check on the darling little girl's status about twenty times a day (also, I have to go back and change "my" to "the"... bad times, guys. Bad times). It's terrible and I know I shouldn't do it, but I do anyway: I type in Reece's Rainbow's URL, and hold myself back from entering her "name" into the search box. Instead, I go see if anyone else has found their forever family, read through the newly listed children, and then seek her out. And even then, I'm not sure if I feel relieved she hasn't found another family or incredibly saddened that she hasn't found another family.

I'm not sure what this says about me, but I have a feeling whatever it is isn't good...

On The Fringes of Army Life

S has been under a lot of stress since the beginning of June with the battalion's current mission. It's a lot of really weird hours and work, and on top of that, his current commander is getting ready to leave, so he's also doing a lot of inventory for his platoon. Last night while eating dinner, S mentioned that he and the other officers in his company had been given the in-coming commander's mission statement--this is totally not about the mission statement, but I think the new commander's enthusiasm and excitement is a little much for the already exhausted company to take in...

...Anyway, that reminded me of the upcoming change of command ceremony, which he had previously mentioned he would like me to come to. I have gone to all of the change of command ceremonies since we got to this battalion a year and a half ago... which seems kind of weird. I am the only one, other than the battalion commander's wife, who has gone to them all. Or... any of them? I was feeling kind of concerned that perhaps I really wasn't supposed to be going to all those events since, well... no one else does.

He assures me that not only am I invited, but that the fact that I go to everything has been noted, is very much appreciated, and even the battalion commander has commented on how wonderful it is that I participate in that kind of event. I'm still a little skeptical, but S was quite adamant that it's a good thing. Okay, well.... cool.

This got us talking about the changing social climate of the Army. It's changing, it's been changing, and it's going to continue to change. Apparently, having spouses at change of command ceremonies was not only welcomed in the past, but it was expected. A lot of things were expected, even in the last 6 years, when he left his enlisted obligation for ROTC. Now? Not so much... If your spouse comes, great. Otherwise, no biggie.

It made me realize that I had no idea what it is to be an "Army Wife" anymore. I mean, obviously, the basics are true: be female, be married to someone in the Army. Duh. But there used to be so much more than that... For frontier Army wives, it meant being married to a West Pointer (enlisted personnel were unable to marry), having horrible living conditions, traveling in a rocking chair in the back of a wagon, and befriending woodland creatures (I kid you not... One of the best-kept frontier Army wife diaries chronicles all of the pets the woman kept... to include a squirrel and a deer). In the twentieth century, it included a lot of social obligations, especially if you were an officer's wife, donning a hat and gloves... Drinking lots of coffee... Even when the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan started, it meant FRG meetings, yellow ribbon magnets, strong sisterly-bonding.

But, now... Now, I have no idea. I have a few friends who are Army wives here at Fort Lewis, but none of them are in the same unit as S. My husband hasn't deployed since 2006 and there is not even rumor that he is going to in the next couple years. FRG meetings are quarterly affairs, and when they do happen, only a small handful of the other spouses bother coming, and those that do come are rarely people with whom I can be friendly without getting my husband in trouble for fraternization. Once a month, I am lucky enough to get together with the other officer wives for our coffee group, which is wonderful, but it just doesn't feel like enough to make an "Army life."

I've often wondered if the fact that we don't live on post has something to do with it. I don't feel like much of an Army wife because I am so far removed from it. I don't know what it's like to have neighbors in my same situation. Or hear the bugle at 1700 or Taps at 2300 (although, sometimes we can hear those things coming from the AFB). I want to have friendly neighborhood barbecues and watch my kid walk to school in the morning. Really, I'm probably looking to live in a small town in the South sometime during the 1950s minus sexism, racism, and more high tech gear--you know, people sitting on their front porch at dusk, watching their children catch fireflies and yelling to the neighbors across the street. But you know what I mean.

So, I guess this leaves me somewhere on the fringes of the Army life. I'd like to blame the lack of on-post housing (or even adequate on-post housing... but that's neither here nor there), but I'm not sure that would make a difference. It could... but who's to say for sure? It'd be nice to say "we'll just give it a try at our next duty station," but that's unlikely. Even if we didn't want to try to buy the next time around, we have too many pets to get on-post housing at most installations. Fort Lewis is the only one to take more than 2. It's just not in the cards for us, at least not in the near future.

Anyway, this is an identity question I have been trying to answer for myself for awhile. Am I an Army wife? Or am I just married to someone who happens to serve in the Army?

Just When You Think You Know Where You Stand With the Army...

... They go and change the game.

I mentioned this in passing a few days before, but didn't go into a whole lot of detail. S got a form letter from "the Army" saying he had been pre-qualified to apply for Special Forces, Psychological Operations, or Civil Affairs. I am pretty sure this is one of those things where if you are a 1LT and breathing, you are "pre-qualified," but I actually have absolutely no idea how this whole process works... Other than the fact that there are quite a few catches.

• He has to apply to these schools by December 2012.
• To apply, he will have had to already taken a few assessment tests
• This will be his only chance to move into one of these specialties.
• He will leave the Logistics field.

I think that last one is the real kicker for him. He really likes Logistics and was fully prepared to make that his career for the rest of forever. We have been planning for the inevitable move to the Logistics Captain's Career Course in Virginia, and he's gone all gung-ho mustlearneverything!!! about it. But this came up, and he looked into them a little, and I think he really likes the idea of Civil Affairs.

I did some asking around with the Army Officers' Wives board, and based on the answers some of the CA wives gave, he really likes the types of missions the CA officers seem to do; they "speak" to him and his philosophy on how the Army should be working as a whole. We're still trying to figure out a lot of things about the branch, how it works, etc, but right now, at least, we're proceeding as though he will apply (which obviously doesn't mean he will be accepted...).

Some of the things that are making this a hard decision:

• Civil Affairs is growing while the rest of the military is shrinking. Pro
• The missions seem very rewarding. Pro
• The main installations would bring us close to home. Pro
• The main installations are not installations we would really ever choose. Con
• It sounds like their deployments are shorter than most Army deployments. Pro
• It sounds like they deploy more often than most units. Con
• He would have a year of schooling. Pro (school time is usually really low key and means lots of family time).
• We have been given the impression that the Army would be more likely to pay for his graduate degree while in that branch. Pro
• He would have to leave the Quartermaster Corps. Con (also, I would have to change my URL. DUMB!)

We're really hoping to find some people who are already familiar with the Civil Affairs Corps to give us some more info. So, if you know anyone, please send them my way!

A Random Post

I have a lot of little things I could write about, but nothing terribly substantial. So here are some short thoughts:

• My cook-out for the platoon went well. We have a lot of left over potato salad, but not much of anything else. I even left some food for some of the guys who live in the barracks, can't barbecue themselves, etc. It turned out pretty freakin' fantastic if I do say so myself, and I might write a post in a few days about how to smoke using your regular charcoal grill. Because my dad taught me and he will never in a million years write a blog post.
• It sounds like a war zone out there. Here in WA, there are very few laws about fire works (it's so wet, fires aren't much of a concern), so everyone shoots them off. We were invited to go to our friends', but since we weren't sure about S's schedule, we declined (sort of wish we went, anyway!). Instead, we watched 360 degrees of fireworks from our back porch. E was unimpressed.
• When I wasn't cooking, I celebrated the 4th by watching House Hunters on HGTV.
• I never really ate a meal today. I sampled the cooking to make sure it tasted okay, had a piece of pizza, and too much cookie cake. Why do soldiers hate cookie cake??? Bastards.
• S got a letter from the powers that be telling him he has been pre-qualified to apply for Special Forces, Psychological Operations, or Civil Affairs (this essentially means that if he were to apply, they wouldn't immediately laugh his application off the table... I think). We're trying to get more information, but he decides to apply to anything, it will probably be Civil Affairs. If he were to get it, we would have to move to CA for at least a year. That sounds like balls.
• I really wanted a cocktail while I watched free fireworks from the freezing cold comfort of my backyard, but the Class Six (military liquor store) didn't have any of the ingredients I needed. They failed to provide the one service they exist to provide. Fail.
• My child loves sitting on the dog bed. Eww.
• Apparently, toddlers don't sleep through fireworks.
• Dogs don't like fireworks, either.
• Speaking of dogs, one of the dogs escaped the fence this afternoon. I was close to freaking out. Thankfully, he made a reappearance. Life was suddenly okay, again. Until he ate some of the leftover pulled pork. Asshole.
• The terrible twos kill the baby blues.
• Oh yeah... Happy 4th of July!

Barbecue for a Brood

I'm pretty sure I have mentioned this before, but S has an odd work schedule this summer. His unit's mission this summer is to provide logistical support for the training every ROTC cadet must complete in order to commission as an officer, so he and his soldiers are working 6 days on, 2 days off schedule. There is no break for July 4th, and so, he'll be working.

This makes me sad, but not just for him, but for his soldiers, too. It's so depressing, at least in my mind, to have to work a regular work day on a holiday that everyone else in the nation is getting to celebrate (okay, so obviously not everyone, but you understand what I mean. I feel bad for the police officers, firemen, EMTs, doctors, nurses, and anyone else pulling duty on a major holiday, too). So, I have decided to bring a little taste of July 4th to them!

I know that sounds sort of lame, but if you aren't getting a full day off to enjoy the sun (clouds), warmth (cough*sixtydegreeweather*cough), and fun (err, see above), you might as well get some barbecue. Which is why I have a 13 lb pork shoulder soaking in a brine in my fridge, a huge bag of hickory chips sitting on my counter, enough cheese to fill my entire crisper, and a huge pile of other ingredients hanging out on the dryer--beans, mustard, macaroni, dill relish, potatoes, etc.

Tomorrow, E and I are going to be making enough potato salad, macaroni and cheese, baked beans, and pulled pork to feed at least 30 people. I hope.

I am most worried about two things: will I have enough food for everyone? And how the heck am I going to smoke a whole pork shoulder???

I have directions from my dad, and I am sure I can call him if I end up in a panic, but this will be my first adventure in smoking... and I don't mean a cigarette. I have no intention of ever trying that. Here's the kicker: the smoker we inherited from the last renters (seriously, they left their smoker and their fire pit in the back yard. Score!) turned in a giant crumbling pile of rust, so I will be trying this on our charcoal grill.

Wish me luck.

Oh, and if anyone wants to send me a desser, that would be great! (wink, wink)

To DO

My list of things to do is entirely too long. And it's unlikely that I will get to them all.... So, what should be the focus? Should there be a focus? Is me focusing on there being a focus blurring the focus of my focus?

How many times can I type gocus in one small paragraph?

...

I want to go back to Scotland. I would live there forever, if life allowed for it, but life doesn't allow for it. And, unless some miracle manages to work out, it is probably a chance of zero to none that the Army would EVER send us there. I could do with a trip, but that would be thousands upon thousands of dollars, and only for a vacation.

We want to buy a house at the next duty station. We're saving for that, and putting money away for E and any-additional-siblings-she-may-have's education. Which means the house saving isn't as quick as it could be (I mean, it's good, just not oh-we-could-pay-you-in-cash-for-this-whole-house! Unless I can talk S into buying something in the crumbling category).

We're planning on having one more biological child; the plan is to do that in the next year.

We want to adopt. And don't want to wait too long. Problem? See savings.

I want to get one of these stupid novels published.

I want to lose the remaining weight I have hanging around from pregnancy number one before starting on pregnancy number two. I have like... 4 months. Hands? Meet hair. Yank.

And that's just the DOMESTIC stuff. I don't even want to think about the rest. I really wish/wonder if there is an alternate universe in which I am managing to live all of the dreams, wishes, etc. I have. Anyone seen Sliding Doors with Gwenyth Paltrow? It's kind of old, and I can't tell you who all was in it, but it was definitely an interesting concept--one small event causes one woman's life to split, and she (unknowingly) lives two different lives. Eventually, they merge, but I often think of that movie when I am agonizing over life and choices and... stuff. It seems like the only logical way to live all the lives I want to live.

And by logical, I mean completely illogical.

...

Where do I come up with this stuff?!

Bragging

I'm going to take a few minutes to just brag on my husband... I don't know why, I just have the urge to "talk" about him; maybe it's because anniversary number seven is right around the corner, maybe it's because he hasn't done anything to make my roll my eyes, today. Either way, here's a little bit about S:

S is currently a First Lieutenant in the US Army. He commissioned from the Georgia Tech Yellow Jacket ROTC Battalion in August, 2010 upon completing his Bachelor of Science degree in Sociology. He left for his Basic Officer Leadership Course, held at Fort Lee, VA, three weeks after commissioning, and was there until December when he "graduated." He was one of few Green-to-Gold Scholarship recipients, and one of only a handful in the Ga Tech program. The Green-to-Gold program allows enlisted Army soldiers to serve out their enlistment contract in a bachelor degree-seeking program, while being helped financially with a generous scholarship, stipend, and book money. He applied for and received his Green-to-Gold orders while serving in Iraq in 2006. And best of all, he completed his entire degree program--123 credit hours--in three and a half years, all while working two jobs, and maintaining a position on the Dean's List.

He has a wonderful sense of humor, and we manage to keep one another laughing. He does wonderful impressions, spot-on voices (Seriously, he could give Robin Williams a run for his money, there), and very ironic, sarcastic observations. But we also have very intelligent conversations with one another, especially when we're both awake. I've had a few less intelligent conversations with him, as well, but on those occasions, he's usually asleep. He knows exactly what he's talking about in those instances... I'm the one who's hopelessly lost. (Apparently, I should know what a warthog is and be able to refill it). He's a great father; even changes diapers. He throws himself into the things that interest him, and if he's going to do anything, he is going to do it right. And he likes animals. He'll even take spiders outside for me, rather than kill them.

What more could a girl ask for?

He's been extra sweet to me these past couple weeks. He knows how much I hate WA, and has even offered to help me move back to GA while he finishes up his time at Fort Lewis. Obviously, I'm not going to do that, but it's nice to know he's willing to sacrifice in order to make E and me happier. And, obviously, he's understanding enough to encourage me to come home every couple of months to see my family and soak up some of the gloriousness that is The South before returning to the Northworst.

So, there you have it. That's the dude I'm married to!

The List

I swear, we are one of the few Army families who are trapped in their first duty station for more than two years.

And that sucks.

In an attempt to not beat my head against a wall in sheer frustration, I have decided to list all CONUS (Continental US) Army installations from most favorable to least favorable.

...And.... GO.

1. Fort Lee, VA**
2. Fort Eustis, VA**
3. Fort Gordon, GA**
4. Fort Jackson, SC**
5. Fort Story, VA
6. Fort Meade, MD
7. Fort Belvoir, VA
8. Fort Stewart, GA
9. Fort Campbell, TN/KY
10. Fort Rucker, AL
11. Fort Knox, KY
12. Fort Detrick, MD
13. Fort Myer, VA
14. Fort A.P. Hill, VA
15. Fort Buchanan, PR
16. Fort Sill, OK
17. Fort Sam Houston, TX
18. Fort Hamilton, NY
19. Fort Carson, CO
20. Fort Dix, NJ
21. Fort Hood, TX
22. Fort Drum, NY
23. Fort Bragg, NC
24. Fort Huachuca, AZ
25. Fort Lewis, WA

*This is not a complete list, nor is it probably accurate that most of these would even be an option.
**No certain order.

Giving Up and Moving On... If Only in Dreams

I'm just going to pout for a few minutes.

As I mentioned before, S has a busy schedule this summer. He gets to sort of make the schedule since he's "in charge" of this aspect of the mission, but he's still on-call all of the time. They need someone "on" 24/7, so to compensate for that, he has all of his soldiers working on a stagger, himself included. So, for the past 2 weeks (and the next 6), he is working 6 days on and 2 days off. This really isn't a big deal, except I am pretty sure he has ended up having to go in (albeit briefly) during his down time.

I thought it would be a great idea to try to get away for a day, and we have yet to go out to the Washington coast. We have done some travel around Puget Sound, which is nice enough, but nothing along the Pacific Ocean. I love beach combing and exploring, and I think it could be fun for E. I want to pack up the camera and take some pictures. We really only have a few weeks of true summer in Washington, so we have to get all of our outdoor living packed into the latter half of July and August.

Well, I had grand plans--I picked out the days I thought would work best, and asked if that would do (we'd only be a couple hours away, so he could go so long as he had his phone on)... And was essentially shot down. I'm not going to mention what it was, but I'm feeling pretty bummed. I'm really trying to put forth an effort and find some things I actually like/don't mind about Washington, but when those attempts get trumped by something else, I just want to give up and go back to being thoroughly miserable. Which I will be, anyway.

But, on the bright side, that is gas money that won't be spent and can go into my adoption jar and/or house fund.


Maybe I'll use that time to take up painting...

This Army Downsizing Business is for the Birds

A few months ago--last year?--it was announced that the Army would be downsizing significantly. Really, what they meant was that the Army would be reverting back to their pre-war retention practices; no longer would officers be pretty much guaranteed promotion through the first 3-4 commissioned ranks, but I'm really not terribly worried about that. Today, anyway (I am sure when it comes closer to the next promotion, I will forget how wonderful my husband is at his job, and that he receives glowing OERs (officer evaluation reviews). What really has me worried is that along with the fact that the Army is no longer pushing its officers through the ranks as quickly as minimum-time-in-rank requirements allow. To promote to the next rank, S needs a minimum of 42 months in service as a commissioned officer (his prior enlistment years do not count... Otherwise, he'd be more than set!

Unfortunately, he has 21 months left until he reaches that minimum. Before they made that announcement, we would be looking at only 15-16 more months.

WAAH, Waah, waaaah.

This really wouldn't be a big deal, except last year around this time, I had him contact his Branch Manager to ask when we would be looking at PCSing (it obviously didn't take me very long to realize Washington was not for me). For those of you who don't know, when we talk about "Branch," we don't mean Air Force vs. Army vs. Navy, etc; there are branches within the Army, and when an officer commissions, he or she is assigned to a branch such as the Infantry, Cavalry, Signal Corps, Quartermaster Corps,  Military Intelligence (*cough*hahahahaha*cough*), Judge Advocate General, Medical, etc. (There are more... I just know that if I keep going, I will forget one and look like a complete idiot... Probably already happened). When S talks to his branch manager, he is talking to a/the (this part confuses me) manager for the Quartermaster people, and deals with personnel movement...? Among other things...?

Obviously, that little bit of logistical (pun intended) knowledge is not something I have banked in my memory.

Anyway, when he talked to his branch manager last year, he was told he wouldn't be PCSing until he became promotable to 42-months-in rank (I'm sure everyones probably figured out which rank that is, but I have no idea how sensitive he is to the whole world--7 of you--knowing his rank, so I'll just leave it at that). My heart was broken.

It still sort of is.

I'm breaking out of my usual pessimistic-as-all-get-out ways, and being incredibly hopeful that he will manage a ticket out of the hell hole they call Fort Lewis by the end of next year. How do we do that? Well, he requests/reserves a spot in the course he will go to next (in Virginia! So excited!). He can do that now... Only problem is they are all booked through next summer, and haven't released the dates for subsequent courses. I am literally pulling my hair out (obviously) as I impatiently wait for that information to be released. In fact, he has gotten so tired of me texting him every other day asking if they have released the dates, followed by me groaning when he comes home and tells me he forgot to look, that he bought a CAC reader (something access card... it's his military ID). Now, he can check them at home and send me into a pout every day!

It would be a dream come true if he had a report date in November, December of 2013 or January of 2014! (Though, that dream would be even better if it happens sooner... Hoping it happens sooner).

So, all we can do is sit. And wait. And occasionally stab Washington with a shovel or a pick-axe. Which is actually pretty therapeutic.

I highly recommend it.