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...

 



Why Don't We Ever Go To Sizzler?

We had a great time over at some friends' house for dinner tonight. S's best friend M mentioned that he is an avid reader of my blog (not that you would know this by my comment section!). However, he finds that I am too depressing, and that all my talk of adoption is boring. Sorry, M.

So, I thought the only logical course of action would be to write a blog just for M. Well... with keeping M in mind. (I suggested his own wife write a guest blog, since she, too, is a QM wife, but she said the world isn't ready for that, yet).

Anyway, S brought up that we bat around the phrase "Why don't we ever go to Sizzler?" You have to say this in kind of a dopey, nasally voice (think Milton in Office Space), but it is exactly what S asks me every time we pass by Sizzler and exactly how he says it. We don't go to Sizzler because I am a snob. I have very specific ideas about what is good, socially acceptable food, and Sizzler is not it. Ruth's Chris? Yes. Mellow Mushroom? Yes. Waffle House? Yes. Sizzler? No.

Also... we don't actually go out to eat very often. For one thing, there aren't that many great restaurants around Fort Lewis. And those that are good/look good are expensive. I can go home to Ga and get vegetable fajitas for $8.99. In Wa, vegetable fajitas at the Mexican restaurant around the corner are $14.99. I don't understand... Also, as an officer, he is expected to go to so many unit social events, it's just nice to have time at home together.

Wow. I digress. Well, so my husband really wants to go to Sizzler. Lucky for him, we get coupons in the mail for their establishment at least once a week, and I do believe they make gift cards. I have really been struggling with what to get him for the holidays this years, and I do believe I have found the perfect solution: A trip to Sizzler.

Honestly, I am pretty nervous about going, but I do love the man, and sometimes you have to make sacrifices for those you love. I just imagine that the moment I step into Sizzler, Volcano Rainier will explode, and I will not only die, but I will die in a Sizzler. Can you imagine a burial site any more depressing?

Old Country Buffet? Well... yes. You got me there with that one.

So, wish me luck. And send me suggestions for new ways to show my husband how much I care for him once I have succumbed to the ultimate act of love.




*BTW, my husband has never asked why we never go to Sizzler in a serious manner, and he also doesn't sound like Milton. Leonard from The Big Bang Theory, maybe...

Rethinking Adoption in an Unconventional Way

I don't know why I have been the biggest blog slacker in the history of the world, but I have been. I'd love to blame the fact that I am finishing the last chapter of the novel, but that's been just as slow-going. I blame S and his 3-day weekend--wonderful to have him home and around, but it really messes up my online-routine. My friend Kerry just bought her domain name, something I have been contemplating doing, and I wonder if that would give me the push to be less... douchey about my blogging.

Yesterday, we had our final yard sale; it was also our most lucrative. E and I went to a birthday party, and while we were gone, S brought in about $60. We got back, and he made another $15-ish, bringing our total yard sale earnings somewhere near the $100 mark. I'm a little disappointed--I would have thought we would have done much better, especially with the baby items we had. No one who came by even looked at the two strollers we had, much less the toddler clothes we had with the tags still on. Unused jar candles from Yankee Candle and Bath and Body works? All now at Goodwill. I would have sold them for $1 each, but no one wanted them...

Oh, well. Hopefully, Goodwill will be able to do some good with them, and when I write it off my taxes, I will just put that money in the adoption jar.

Blogger refuses to make this photo right-side-up.... which it is everywhere else. Oh, well... E goes shopping. Ironically, she is doing to with 2 Victoria's Secret bags that were free-with-purchase on Black Friday and were some of the only items we sold (they were tagged as being $75... but... yeah).

 

Having finished up the yard sale, we had some quality adult time after putting E to bed last night. It gave us a chance to talk about adoption, our plans, etc. Part of this came up after S learned some new information pertaining to his own adoption. I'm sure I have mentioned it before, but he was adopted as an "older child" through the foster care system when he was about a year-and-a-half-old. He has an older biological brother and sister who were adopted by a different family, but remained together. We found them about 7 years ago, and they have all struck up a sort of relationship. What little information he knows about his biological family has come from them and the snippets his own parents have released, which isn't much at all. Very recently, the three of them have gained some additional insight into the events that led up to their adoptions, and to say that it was the complete opposite of what everyone believed is a bit of an understatement.

Anyway, that's his story to tell, not mine. I would love for him to write a guest post or two about his own experiences as an adoptee, one with attachment issues, and what it is like to be an adult adoptee... Whatever... But I'm not sure he'll do it. We shall see, shall we not?

Back to my point. So, while talking about it all, I asked if this changed his mind about adoption at all. He said yes; that it made him more certain that he does not want to do a domestic adoption. This came as a surprise to me since only a few hours before he heard "the news," he had said he wished domestic adoption was a more attainable option for us as a military family, since it was how he found his family. I'm not sure what his reasons are for feeling this way, and I don't wish to speculate, but the whole thing has me considering the whole process in a less than glamorous light.

It's easy to get caught up in the idea of  "saving" an orphan. Articles like this one make it easy to forget all of the stuff that led a child to become an "orphan," and that all of that just doesn't "go away" when they are adopted into a new family. Even when a child is as young as a year-and-a-half, their past will come back to "haunt" them, whether it is in a good way or a bad one. Living with S has shown me that, and even then, it's easy to forget. "Saving" a child from a future that is not much of a future is only a small aspect of adding them to a family.

Because the family they had before doesn't just... disappear. If we adopt from Eastern Europe like we plan, it is very likely that child will have other siblings, whether they know it or not. It's very likely their parents will still be alive, that they were released from their biological family for similar reasons as my husband was released from his. It's likely that we will never have much information on that family to give to our child. We'll also be taking them from the only family they are likely to know--the other children and caregivers of their orphanage. And that must only add to all of the fear an anxiety of being an adopted child.

So... yeah. I don't know how to end this.

I'll go with a question... Do I order another Wittlebee Box? Or not? Because I really can't decide...

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!

Someone's Missing

You know how a Simpson's episode always starts off with something that has absolutely nothing to do with the rest of the episode? That's how I am going to play this blog.

Last night, I hit 100,000 words. When I started writing this particular story, my goal was to write something that was 100,000 words, total. Well, I think it's pretty safe to say I am going to exceed that (especially since I currently have 100,013. Oh yeah!). For the longest time, I was convince I would never be able to make it to 100,000 words, but I have done it! I am a little proud of myself, even though I have no idea what is going to happen next (well, I do, but how it's going to happen... well, we'll just have to see what the characters do next, I suppose).

That accomplishment totally reminds me of the fact that we were able to acquire the very last under-30lb life jacket at Costco... That's quite an accomplishment, too, you know (if you didn't get it, I'm going to tell you: this is my horrible attempt at a segue). We needed that life jacket for E, because our friends (and neighbors!) asked us out on their boat this afternoon! We had a blast, and just as I knew he would, as soon as we got in the car to leave, S said "we need a boat."

Well, rest assured, no boats in our near future. I am not averse to getting a boat, especially when we are in the Chesapeake Bay area (in fact, it just might be a requisite to living there!). But we had a really great time, and I know a lot of that has to do with the fact that we were with friends!  We got the kids in the water and did some swimming (E.... not a fan). I was surprised at how un-lake-like the lake actually was (we were out on American Lake, which borders Fort Lewis). It had no lake smell and the water was very clear! We then rode around the perimeter and looked at all of the houses. E loved the wind in her hair--it had me on edge, because she kept trying to stand up to get more. I was continually yelling at her to sit on her bottom. Then they broke out the knee board. The adults all had a go... with the exception of me. After watching everyone else, I recognize that would not be  my shining moment, and they would have to rename the activity "face-boarding," so I declined. But they did talk me into tubing (we doubled up) and that was great, if also excruciating on the hands. Wow!

It really was fun, and I am so thankful we got invited to go. Thanks, M-family!

However, while the boat was skimming through the water, E cuddled up on my lap, wind in our hair, this feeling that someone was missing washed over me (get it... water? wash? Har har.... man, I am so NOT funny. Anyway....). It was like we had forgotten someone, our child--not E, but another one--and she just wasn't there. Like she was somewhere else, just not with us. It made me sad and anxious. Where is she?

She... that's weird, isn't it? I don't know why I thought of a she. It was just the image that I saw (not that there was a face...) and felt. We're missing a little girl somewhere, and after doing some reading these past few night (I know, I am bad!) I am afraid we won't find her or we'll be too late. I'm afraid we will wait too long, dragging our heels waiting for the right time. She could be out there right now, desperately wishing for her mama and papa, while we are talking about everything falling into place for us.

So, if you're someone who hopes or prays or crosses fingers, perhaps you could do that for us? Hope I can finish my book and find a publishing house for it quickly. Hope that we can do that so we can find our girl, wherever she is, and bring her home before it's too late...

Don't Read This

I don't know why,but I have this huge urge to adopt sooner rather than later. I don't know why I feel there is such urgency, other than I feel like our child is out there, and we are just not doing what we are supposed to do to find him or her or them. That sounds so cheesy--believe me, I feel cheesy for writing it. I am not one who really thinks in terms of a higher power pulling the marionette strings or fate intervening or whatever you want to call it. I'm not opposed to that possibility, it's just one of those things that greatly confuses me, leads to philosophical discussions I would rather not debate, and sends me scrambling for the science books. I like science--unfortunately, I am not a huge fan of math, and typically, those two go hand-in-hand. Bummer.

Anyway, I can't explain the emotional draw I have towards adding to our family through international adoption. I can feel myself "looking" for our child[ren], desperate to find him/her/them, and it just isn't happening. And then I begin to wonder if I have in fact found them, and I was just too "blind" to see. I try to take a step back, look at the logistics of the matter--the money, the Army, the paperwork--and at how this will change the family dynamic--mostly how E will be affected, how my day-to-day responsibilities will change. For a few minutes, I get scared off, but then I come around and am right back where I started.

I don't think S understands this. I don't know that I actually understand this, but I rarely understand much of anything when it comes to the crazy/totally rational notions that enter my mind. I told myself I was going to stay away from Reece's Rainbow (and not just because the religious background--even though they are not a religious organization, if that makes any sense whatsoever--but because, well, I knew THIS would happen), but I just couldn't. Every day, I am drawn to their site like kudzu to a lamp post. I make the rounds, see if any new families have committed to one of the many children listed there, pretend not to see the newly listed children link, and then end up there, anyway. I'm not going to lie, there are several that I find myself checking up on. I feel pulled to those children, but i don't know that it's in a I'm-your-parent kind of way. It could be... but it could not be, as well.

Reading through the family profiles (I may have read through them all a time or two), I notice that the parents have an immediate connection to the child they commit to; they know that they have found their child. I haven't had that immediate response. But I also didn't instantly fall into a haze of love and rainbows and white fluffy bunnies when E was born. I loved her, but it took me a couple weeks to fall completely in love with her (if that makes sense). It makes me wonder if I am capable of that love-at-first-sight emotion so many others encounter, or if I am just one of those that has to get to know their someones first...

Either way, it's driving me crazy in a good-anxious, I-wish--knew-what-the-hell-is-happening sort of way.

And the worst part is, because S knows me so well, he won't engage in these conversations with me. Not because he isn't interested, but because he knows that if he allows me to get going, I will not shut up about it. He's smart, but in an incredibly devious kind of way (I am saying this totally tongue-in-cheek for those of you who can't read my tone). I want to talk with him about it 24-7 so badly, but he just gives me that really?-I-am-the-one-who-has-to-be-ridiculously-rational? look, and I have to slink back into my corner.

I don't know where I am going with this... I think I just needed to get it off my chest. So... Yeah.

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!

WA is Trying to Kill Me

It was 93 degrees Fahrenheit at Fort Lewis today. 93.

That's hot in Georgia. It's just hell on earth when it's taking place in one of the cooler places of the continental US. Why? Well, if you missed it the first 542 times I mentioned it, we don't have air conditioning here. Most people don't have air conditioning here--it just doesn't ever get hot enough to justify installing one, and no one installs windows that are conducive to window units. But, of course, on days like this, you kind of want to maim whomever decided all of that was a good idea.

So, in an attempt to stave off the baking, we spent most of the day in the water. We took E to the outdoor pool on post, and spent a good hour there--much longer than she has ever stayed in the pool. She did beautifully, too. She was kicking and pulling just like I would expect of one of the 3- or 4-years-olds I used to teach lessons. She's even blowing bubbles and putting her face down in the water. She can float on her back, but only if I hold her hand. We tried some passing between us, and she's close, but not quite propelling herself, yet. I'm impressed; she's frustrated. She kept eyeing the other children in the pool who were swimming around by themselves (mostly with the help of life-jackets... don't get me started on the ridiculous rules at the pool), and pushing us away, but that didn't tend to work out so well for her.

After pool time, S went to the golf course for 9 holes, and the girls went for a walk (we don't do the 10-15 miles/day we were doing last year at this time, but we get in about 4 these days) before it got too hot. When we got home, we celebrated by getting in the wading pool I set up on the back porch. The water was cold but it felt so good after baking in the sun. Nap time came, then another dip in the water when S got home. Dinner... And then a trip to the splash park.

And you know what? I still feel like I am going to melt. Outside, it feels wonderful--it's about 70 and there is a breeze. But my house? Still a sauna. I have every window open and every fan speeding. I'm not yet a puddle... But for how long?

Post #90

Obviously, I have no good titles up my sleeve. Sorry.

I ordered my first Wittlebee box last night! If you have no idea what that is, it's kind of like Birchbox, but for babies/toddlers. Once a month, for $40, they will send you over $100 worth of designer clothing for your little holy terror/sweet adorable munchkin. You will be asked to fill out a style sheet, which helps them coordinate a box that will fit your needs (long sleeves, short sleeves, polka dots, lady bugs... you name it), and then you get a fun little surprise in the mail. I'm excited to see what we get this first month. Now, if you're anything like me, you're probably thing OMAGERHD, $40!?! Yeah... Well, if you use my link, you can get $10 (and I will, too, for subsequent orders!), and if you sign up, they will send you additional coupons. I was able to place my first order for just $19.99. If it's good stuff, I couldn't do much better at Gymboree or Gap (my usual baby store haunts).

I'll let all 4 of you who might care how it goes.

In other news:

• I have a water baby! S got home early, so we took E to the splash park on post. It's kind of like Centennial Olympic Park in Atlanta (for all of you who know what that's like), so there is no standing water, so it gives her some independence in playing in water. We have tried to visit a few times this summer, but today was the first time it was actually warm enough to allow her to let loose. She loved it and we had to drag her away kicking and screaming (literally. kicking and screaming).
• We are learning Russian as a family. E: not interested. S and I are chugging right along, although neither of us are great yet (but, keep in mind, we just started re-learning yesterday). I am really hoping we can get E into it... It would be wonderful if she got even a little bit of another language (or two or three), just so it makes it easier to learn later in life. Besides, aerospace engineers need to know Russian--she's getting a head start. I am wanting to have somewhat of a grasp of the language for when we adopt sometime in the future.
• I need to remember to add the $0.97 S put in the adoption fund jug this evening.
• I have 96,000 words, but I didn't write tonight. I needed a break. I know what's going to happen next, I just have become too consumed by the Olympics to really get anything good down, so I just decided to take a night of rest.
• It's going to be hot here in the Northworst this weekend: we're talking 90 degrees. That's hot in Atlanta where they have air conditioning. I'm going to just go ahead and let you know: if you haven't heard from me in the next couple days, it's probably because I have melted.

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):

A Little Known Fact About Moi

So, I have this really annoying habit. I tend to withhold information when I think the people that matter will look down on me because of that information... For example, I struggled with how to tell my parents I was pregnant for a couple weeks, simply because I was terrified they were going to mad, disappointed, condescending... I'm not entirely sure why I thought that, especially since I was twenty-four at the time, had a full-time job, was married, had a degree, was working on a MA, and was able to pay all of my bills. I suppose it's because in a lot of ways, I still feel like I am about 17 years old and need their permission and acceptance to exist. Even though that is not remotely true.

I welcome and value their opinions. I want them to be proud, support me and my decisions, love me and my family, and even though they have never withheld any of the above, something inside me thinks they might if I do something "reckless" enough (Does anyone else find it ironic that my idea of "reckless" is procreating? Obviously, I have issues).

Same thing with my husband. I have been wrestling with myself for two days, wanting to talk to him about something, but every time I open my mouth, I can't seem to do it. I am afraid that he will turn me down, think me unreasonable, crush my heart, stomp on my dreams... And for absolutely no good reason. He has never done that before, so I am not entirely sure why I think he's going to start all of a sudden.

Obviously, I have some sort of unresolved issues with something from my deep, dark past (pfftt, hahaha... yeah...right), but don't ask me what the heck those might be, because I have no idea. And if I want to get past this next hurdle, I'm going to have to talk to him about it... And after I get over that initial shock, I can move on to the paranoia that my parents will want to disown me. Which is really sad, because I am the heir to their vast estate (If you can find the one non-truth in the series of truth in that paragraph, hats off to you).

Why do I feel like a 14-year-old trying to talk to her parents about getting birth control? Seriously?

Ugh, anyway, while I eat myself up inside, you can be captivated by the most beautiful (and slightly damaged) smile in the world:

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...

Mom Moments

Moms, ever heard of Wittlebee?? It sounds like fun! I am debating about whether or not I am going to order next month... If you're interested, follow the link and we can both get some credits!

Speaking of momming it up, I'm struggling a little bit here. At least in the family planning aspect. I find myself incredibly confused about what I want the "family plan" to be over the next few years, and I feel like that decision needs to be made. And soon.

After E was born, the plan was to wait 2 years, try again, and hope for another Autumn birthday. I was down with that plan up until about, oh... 3, 4 months ago. All of a sudden, I am not feeling the getting pregnant thing. I'm not excited about having another newborn, or losing my body (half-fixed as it is), and going through all of the health issues that followed the last pregnancy. I'm not excited about a million wake-ups and feedings and the whining... Oh dear pepper-poppers, the whining.

And I'm excited about adopting. But I'm not sure if that is because I am excited about adopting, or just not excited about all of that crap I listed above. Against my better judgement, I seem to have gotten hooked by the picture of a little girl orphaned somewhere in Eastern Europe. Unfortunately for me, I followed one too many blog links, saw her picture, and just want to be able to give her a hug. A real hug. I look at her list of issues and find myself saying "I could take that on," when really, a sane person would be talking themselves out getting caring for a small child with those physical needs.

Last night, I may have gone a little insane and asked my husband if we could swing it. Now, normally, I would say he's the more emotional of the two of us. I'm always very methodological about the decisions I make, whereas he's more of a go-with-your-gut sort. However, when it comes to the underdog, I usually fling all of that out the window... which is how I ended up with three dogs and a cat (damn you, animal shelters!). His response, of course, was "we don't have $25,000." Which is true. We don't have a spare $25,000 lying around. And what little money we do have stashed away is earmarked for other things. Well played, reason. Well played.

So, I pouted for awhile, looked at her pictures some more, and dreamed about her half of the night. The other half of the night, I dreamed about E. And when I woke up, I felt a little reluctance at letting someone else--anyone else--take any of my time away from her. Perhaps for selfish reasons--OMG, there could be two of them!--and perhaps for the same unselfish reasons parents the world 'round go through when they begin to plan for another child. I'm not sure what it is or what I want or why everything has changed so suddenly.

Part of me wants to say "to hell with the plan," get on the phone, and contact the adoption agency at the top of the list and get this show on the road. If we were to do that, we could probably get it done before it will interfere with Captain's Career Course (wherever that may be...). I just can't see the Army saying "Yeah, take 3 weeks off of school for personal reasons! We'd love that!", so any adoption plan would have to come after he finished it (right?).... And that could be 2-3 years down the road. Another part of me wants to just say "okay, the plan has been the plan for awhile. You made those decisions for a reason, stick to it." Who knows, maybe I'll get the baby fever, again, and all of this worry will be superfluous. And part of me wants to say "to hell with it all."

It's like I am being pulled by my arms and a leg, and the leg I am left to stand on is getting a cramp. Pretty soon, I'm going to fall on my ass and it isn't going to be pretty.



As an aside, I have been thinking about adding ads to my page to generate a little extra adoption mullah... Thoughts?

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?

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!

Unplanned Plans

Anniversary number seven is just around the corner. And by that, I mean it's in less than a week away! July 1, to be exact.

We've been struggling with what to do for our anniversary. Well, I say we, but I usually leave that up to S to make our anniversary plans. We've never actually "done" anything for our anniversary, other than exchange gifts and go out for dinner at The Melting Pot. <--This is something we do every year, and we usually like it, but I get the impression S was looking for something a little more... celebratory. Last year, he wanted to take me to dinner at the Space Needle; he called to make reservations more than 6 weeks out, but they were already booked solid. Despite calling back every few days in hopes of snatching up a cancellation, it never happened for us. Oh, well.

This evening, I mentioned I want to take E to the coast and see the Olympic National Park this summer. For shits and giggles, I did a little googling about the coast, tide pools, beaches, etc, and the place that kept getting mentioned was Port Angeles, WA. I Google-mapped directions, and discovered we can go the "long" way, and go through a corner of the Olympic National Park. I told him I thought that would be a fantastic thing to do during one of his days off, and he said, "Do you want to do that for our anniversary?"

... Well, yeah!

So, I think he is going to make a reservation for a hotel room the night before our anniversary. We'll get up early, make the drive up there, and stay through the next afternoon. We can feed the dogs before we leave, so we just need to ask a neighbor if they mind letting the dogs out a couple times before we get back. I'm excited about going and seeing some new things, showing E an actual coast (I don't count Puget Sound. Should I?), doing some exploring, and taking some gorgeous pictures.

I know. Me. Excited about doing something in Washington.

You can pick your jaws off the ground, now.

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!