Life Lessons From a Toddler

Gain a new perspective on life.

Nutella makes everything better.

When life gives you rainy days, play in the puddles.

The most memorable days end with the dirtiest clothes.

Stop and smell the plumerias.

What other people think of you is none of your business.  If you want to leave the house with chocolate all over your face, who the heck cares??

Always check to be sure your fly is zipped.  Nothing is more embarrassing than walking around with your diaper showing.

You will never regret time spent blowing bubbles.

Relax.

Dear Santa

Dear Santa,
I only want one thing for Christmas this year:  sleep.  You see, my toddler has forgotten how.  It took 13 excruciatingly long months to get him to sleep through the night.  5 months of sleeping bliss followed, where I felt like a human again.  And then last week happened–all sleep went straight to hell.  For all of us.  He went from asking to go “ni-night,” to screaming and refusing, literally overnight.  When we lay him in his crib awake, like we’ve done for months, he arches his back and hollers like the mattress is on fire.  I don’t know what happened to my toddler that used to sleep, but I want him back.  My husband and I are taking shifts sleeping, my son is whiney and exhausted, my sanity is completely gone and my noisy neighbors might not make it to Christmas if they wake the baby ONE. MORE. TIME.  If we could all go back to sleeping like normal people, we’d all have a Merry Christmas.

My dearest Saint Nick, if you could find it in your heart to grant us all this one simple wish for Christmas, it would be much appreciated.  If not, I would settle for a night time nanny, a long vacation, or even a hysterectomy, as the idea of having another sleep-hating child is too much to bear.

Sincerely,
Beyond Exhausted Mombie Who is NOT a Fan of Sleep Regressions.

Bullet=dodged!

A week ago, we were preparing for 2 hurricanes.  I spent all day Wednesday scrubbing the house down; I figured if we were going to be stuck in the house all weekend, it had better be squeaky clean!  On Thursday night, I filled up the bath tub and every pitcher and water bottle in the whole house, just in case.  Then we waited, bracing ourselves for the first hurricane Hawaii has seen in 20 years.

I woke up early Friday morning to wind and rain. It was gloomy all day, with random rain showers and gusts of wind.  And that was it.  The Big Island took the brunt of Hurricane Iselle, and is still trying to recover.  O’ahu only saw the edges of outer bands, and by then it had weakened to a tropical storm.  

We were slated to see Hurricane Julio a mere 2 days later, but Julio had other plans.  He tracked straight towards us, then at the last minute, he took a turn for the north as if to say, “just kidding!  Gotcha!” 

Our little slice of paradise dodged not one bullet, but TWO in a row.  The Big Island is still recovering, and there are a lot of people without power.  Many local businesses have stepped up and are making sure the victims of Hurricane Iselle are fed, and have ice and water.  It is amazing to see the aloha spirit alive and well, and bringing people together.   

It’s been sunshine and flowers all week, and for that, I am thankful.  However, we are not out of the woods just yet.  Tropical storm Karina is brewing to our east and is expected to strengthen.  There is a system just to our south that has a 50% chance of developing into a tropical storm.  It’s definitely shaping up to be quite an active hurricane season, and we still have a long way to go! 

All Aboard the Hurricane Train!

In case you haven’t heard, there are 2 hurricanes barreling across the pacific ocean with the Hawaiian Islands in their crosshairs-Iselle and Julio.  Iselle will pummel Oahu on Friday morning, and Julio will kick us while we’re down come Sunday.  Sweet.  Of course the news is having a field day with this one!  They’ve been calling it “Double trouble,” “Hawaiian one-two punch,” and “the tropical disturbance train.”  We actually made the national news, which never happens.

Having spent 4 years on Florida’s gulf coast before moving to Hawaii, hurricanes and tropical storms are just part of life.  I was born during a raging thunderstorm and grew up in tornado alley, so crazy weather is something I’m quite accustomed to.  As a result, I am not one to panic when warnings are issued, nor do I take it lightly.  Seeing a funnel cloud and being in a tornado will give you a healthy dose of respect for mother nature.

I’ve always had an odd fascination with weather.  There’s nothing I love more than a good, loud thunderstorm with pouring rain and lightning that cracks the sky wide open.  It’s dangerous, chaotic, and loud, but there’s such a powerful beauty in it all.  Crazy weather makes me feel alive.  It reminds me how big and in control God really is.  I like to think of lightning as a crack in the sky where heaven itself shines through; maybe that’s why lightning is such an incredible, blinding kind of light.

I will never forget my first tropical storm in Florida; of course, Dan was gone on a TDY, so it was just me and the dog.  I kept a close eye on the weather, secured all of our outdoor items, and made sure I had the essentials in case of a power outage.  Then the storm came in the night.  It woke me up out of a dead sleep; it was unbelievable how loud it was.  The rain was deafening, and sounded like bullets slamming into the house.  I looked out the window of course, because I like to watch storms.  The rain was literally falling sideways from the wind and the trees looked as if they’d snap right in half.  It was just a little tropical storm, yet it still packed one heck of a punch.  I can’t imagine the power of a full-blown hurricane if “just a storm” were that intense.  I was never afraid, though.  I went back to bed, the dog curled up at my feet, and kept the blinds open so I could watch the trees dance.  And everything turned out just fine; not so much as a power outage.

Fast forward to this week:  Here we are in Hawaii nei, a mere two months into hurricane season, during El Niño, with two storms closing in on us.  It is extremely rare that Hawaii is ever in the path of a hurricane to begin with, due to the wind patterns and cooler water temperatures.  The last one was Hurricane Iniki, back in the 90’s…also during el Niño, I might add.  It slammed into Kauai as a category 4.  So, to have TWO of them in a row like this is unheard of…and quite possibly the first occurrence in known history.  Just a matter of days ago, Iselle was whopping category 4, but is now down to a 1, while ol’ Julio has only strengthened.  With the forecast still predicting the Islands to be in the path of both hurricanes, I thought it wise to get ready.

R and I braved the commissary to grab a few essentials and it was an absolute mad house!  Just getting down an aisle proved difficult, and the shelves were looking pretty bare.  I grabbed what I could from the slim pickins left scattered on the shelves.  I made sure to get toilet paper, and of course, a case of blue moon beer.  Then we stood in a very long line.  Poor R was so tired; he missed his nap, and we had just waited 2 hours at the doctor’s office for absolutely nothing.  I was feeding him fruit snacks to keep him calm as we stood in line, and I had a migraine getting worse by the minute.  (We’ve all been trying to get over an awful cold for a week now, so me and R were feeling like crap to begin with…poor baby).  The line was wrapped around a display, and some old man comes from the other direction and parks his cart in front of mine, cutting right in the middle of a very long line.  I scooted up…and then he scooted up to stay in front of me!  Really???  I did not have a single shred of patience left in my body at that point.  I kind of flipped out on him, which is extremely out of character for me, and said, “the line is over here, but GO AHEAD!!!”  He knew better than to argue with me about it, especially after seeing that I had a little one with me, so he cut in front of the lady 2 shopping carts behind me instead.  It was almost our turn and the kid in front of me was kind enough to let me go ahead of him–I didn’t ask him to, he just offered out of nowhere!  Faith in humanity somewhat restored.

Finally, we got in the truck to leave the craziness!  Oh wait..just kidding!  Here on Oahu, rush hour lasts waaaay longer than just an hour.  We were getting on the freeway just in time to come to a dead stop and crawl allllll the way home.  It took a good hour to drive less than 10 miles.  By then my head was absolutely throbbing and the sun was shining right into my eyes making it worse.  Raylan was fussing off and on, and refusing to just go to sleep like any other normal tired person would do.  So I resorted to opening another bag of fruit snacks to buy myself some peace and quite for a few minutes before my head exploded.

After an eternity of inching our way home, we heated up some leftovers and Raylan gladly took a quick bath and went right to bed.  I popped some migraine pills and ended up cleaning out the fridge and pantry for hours.  All of our canned goods are nice and organized now, and I’ve been filling up Ziploc bags of ice from the ice maker in case we lose power and need to use the cooler.  Today, I focused on securing the loose items in the yard, filling up every pitcher and water bottle I could find, gathering all the flashlights, candles, lighters, emergency radio and batteries together, and scrubbing the whole house from top the bottom.  If we’re going to be stuck here all weekend, I at least want the place to be squeaky clean.  I even gave the dog a bath, much to his dismay.  The weather may be a mess, but I’ll be darned if my house and dog are a mess, too!   Haha!

I find that being prepared for things like this takes most of the fear out of it.  When those storms roll in, I will be confident that we’ve done our part to be ready–the rest is the good Lord’s hands.  When the power gets knocked out, I won’t be stressing about how I will feed my family, see in the dark, or get water.  We’ve educated ourselves on the flood zones, evacuation shelters, and we stay aware of what’s going on with the weather.

There is a big difference between being prepared, and panicking.  For some reason, people seem to think they’re one and the same.  If you go to the store because a hurricane is coming, you’re “freaking out”!  And that’s not always the case; some of us are just being smart, not scared.  I’ve seen countless statuses and comments on social media along the lines of, “this storm isn’t going to be that bad, just saying..” or, “Lol look at these crazy people running to the stores and gas stations!  People are freaking out for nothing!  Hawaii doesn’t have hurricanes!” as a cat. 4 hurricane churns straight towards us.  These people are delusional if they think they are above mother nature.  Mother nature always has the last laugh.  Their “I’m too cool to be prepared” attitude could quite literally be the death of them.  Apparently, people have learned NOTHING from hurricane Katrina, or hurricane Iniki.  Natural selection at it’s finest…

It’s almost eerie how nice the weather has been.  If it weren’t for modern technology, we’d be blissfully unaware of the powerful storms just off shore.  As I ran my errands yesterday, I noticed the blue sky, sunshine, and the gently swaying palm trees.  But the air felt different, charged with a strange energy.  I could feel the uncertainty, the nerves, of everyone around me in that store.  The collective anticipation of Iselle and Julio is hanging thick in the air, and it makes everything look different.  The ocean, the air, the trees, the clouds, though peaceful now, could turn violent and angry in just a matter of hours.  So now we wait…

 

 

 

Hurricanes Iselle and Julio taking aim at us.

 

Shoppers preparing for the storm, and stores running out of water.

Deceivingly beautiful Hawaiian day..the calm before the storm.

Part of our food and diaper stockpile.

When Hawaii Isn’t Paradise

O’ahu Homeless Camps.  (Photo Courtesy Of Civilbeat.com)

Hawaii has a dirty little secret.  You won’t see it on the vacation brochures, or the post cards.  It lies just beyond the walls of your $600/night hotel suite, across the street from the fancy stores and tourist trap restaurants.  Lost in the shuffle of happy tourists is a not so happy reality–homelessness.

Contrary to popular mainland belief, not every one sits around sipping mai tais, surfing and living it up.  For people out on the streets, it is far from paradise.  They are struggling to survive and to feed their families.  They are lucky to have a tarp over their heads to shield them from the brutal tropical sun and rain storms.  Some of them have very young children and homeless shelters, which are already overcrowded, only want to separate them.  Others work all day and still can’t afford a place to sleep at night.  Some have immigrated from places like Micronesia, in search of a better life, only to be met with language barriers, racism, and unsuccessful attempts at landing a job.  Without an income, they can’t afford a place to live or the extremely overpriced plane ticket back home.  Some are unable to obtain the psychiatric medication they rely on in order to function in society; people end up running from them instead of helping them.

When I arrived on O’ahu three years ago, I was shocked at what I saw: homeless people living in parks, bus stops, under bridges and on beaches. The sidewalks downtown were lined with shopping carts, tarps and make-shift shelters.  All of their belongings could fit into a single trash bag.  I had no idea this was such an issue in Hawaii; I was mistakenly led to believe that Hawaii was nothing but sunshine, palm trees and total paradise…that life would be better just for having the privilege to live here.  But that couldn’t be further from the truth.  I was blindsided.

I see homelessness every single time I leave the house.  I wish I were exaggerating, but sadly I am not.  There is a family just outside our neighborhood, a couple with 2 school-aged boys, living in their minivan.  They have blankets and towels over their windows as curtains, and everything they own crammed inside.  All four of them sleep in the van every night, and in the morning, the boys walk across the street to go to school.  A bunch of us in the neighborhood put money together for them around the holidays, so they can buy their kids something for Christmas, or get new clothes or food.  One family down the street even invited them over for Christmas dinner.  I remember driving by and noticing they’d hung a few ornaments on the chain-link fence behind their van, trying to make the holidays a little happier for their kids.

I used to ride the bus to work downtown.  The bus route took us straight to the homeless shelter.  There were so many of them camped out under trees and on benches because the shelter was too full.  The lucky few with $2.50 in their pocket would board the bus…maybe to find a new location, look for food, or even to go to their jobs that don’t pay nearly enough.  In Waikiki, they line the sidewalks, selling magazines or jewelry to make money for their next meal.  They camp out next to newspaper stands and sleep next to garbage cans.  You don’t see this on your vacation pamphlets.  The travel agency photo shops that little tidbit out of the picture, so you only see sunny beaches with diamond head and a rainbow in the background.  Heaven forbid they show the real Hawaii and lose money when the tourists go elsewhere!  As usual, it’s all about the money.

Just last week, we drove through Honolulu on our way to zoo.  In Chinatown, homeless camps lined the sidewalks and parks.  I spotted a woman at the park in her bra, taking a “bath” in the drinking fountain.  This poor woman has to bathe on the side of busy street, with everyone watching.  I get a hot shower in the privacy of my own home every day, and she gets a cold drinking fountain in public.  I instantly felt like crap for complaining about my small house and my barely-working hot water heater.  I am lucky to have any of those things!

The sad part is, a lot of these people DO have jobs.  So before you write them off as “lazy freeloaders,” you have to realize that it’s just not the case for most of them.  Hawaii is not cheap.  It costs a very pretty penny to live here.  One job isn’t always enough to cover living expenses.  We pay quite a bit more for everything here: gas, electricity, rent, and even a gallon of milk.  We are military and get a cost of living allowance and still live paycheck to paycheck.  It’s so different from life on the mainland.  Rent alone can eat up your entire monthly paycheck.  I actually know someone who went through this; they had a full time job and slept in the park at night.  It’s horrible what the high cost of living does to people here.  There was a story recently about a homeless family; the man had suffered a heart attack and he couldn’t keep up with his fast-paced job afterwards.  He lost his job as a result, and could no longer support his family.  A mere 3 months later, they were all living on the streets.  One of the kids is only 3 years old.  Can you even imagine?  It could happen to any of us–we are just a heart attack or job lay off away from being homeless. Especially here, where you’re stuck on an island with no family and nowhere to go.

It doesn’t help that the state is very money hungry and finds ways to siphon money out of it’s residents.  (For example: the state requires that you get your car safety checked and registered.  They charge for both, and those prices go up all the time.  You can’t get the registration without the safety inspection.  If you fail the safety, you have to pay to fix the problem and pay for ANOTHER safety inspection until you pass.  If it takes 5 safety inspections to pass, you pay 5 times.  Once you cough up the safety check fee, you have to stand in a very long line and fork over more cash to get the car registered.  And don’t even get me started on the outrageous taxes involved!  This is something that must be done yearly, and everyone dreads it.)  The government requires us all to jump through hoops, AND we get to pay for the hoops, too.  That, coupled with the high cost of living, is only adding to the homeless population.  I don’t know where all of the state’s money goes, because it sure doesn’t go towards education or helping the homeless.  But  that’s another topic altogether.

The city of Honolulu thought the homeless camps would deter tourists and inconvenience anyone trying to use the sidewalk, so they had the bright idea of doing “sweeps”.  Basically, HPD tapes off the homeless camps and then takes away everything behind the tape.  The problem has only worsened since the sweeps started.  People’s IDs, birth certificates and important documents that are necessary to obtain a job or financial help, are taken during the sweep.  Now they are worse off than before!  Good job, city of Honolulu.  I read an article in the local news that said the rookie cops would actually be in tears doing these sweeps, and would come back with clothes and food for the homeless families that they just had to take everything from.  It seems like the city is literally trying to sweep the problem under the rug.  I hope they come to their senses soon, especially now that the local media is shedding so much light on the issue lately.  These people don’t need what little they have taken away-they need help!  Maybe all this money the state takes from us at every turn can go to building more homeless shelters, putting support systems in place for immigrants, and adding family units to existing shelters so they don’t have to be separated.

Next time you think we have it made because we live in Hawaii, think again.  The beaches and rainbows are beautiful, but they don’t exempt Hawaii from homelessness and struggle.  Even those of us that are lucky enough to have a roof over our heads still have plenty of problems.  When you actually live here, you have to work for it.  There is no sitting around on the beach or surfing 24/7.  You spend most, if not all, of your week working for the money to afford the gas to even drive to the dang beach.  To say that someone’s life is better because they “get to live in Hawaii!”  is completely insensitive, obnoxious and down-right delusional.  Hundreds of people who “get to live in Hawaii” don’t have a place to sleep or food to eat.  I am tired of the stereotype that life is “so much better” here because we live in “paradise.”  It’s not paradise for the lady bathing in a public drinking fountain.  It’s not paradise for the family raising their young children on the streets or in a minivan.  Your geographic location doesn’t give you immunity from being dealt a bad hand in life.

If you have a roof over your head and food to eat, you have no idea how lucky you are.  Every single time I pray, I thank God that I have a house to live in and that I don’t have to raise my son under a tarp on the pee-stained sidewalks of Honolulu.  I get a reality check every time I leave my house and see that poor family living in a van in that creepy parking lot, or the old man camped out alone on the side of Kamehameha Highway.  These people don’t need your judgment, they need your compassion.  Help a homeless person when you can, don’t stereotype people based on where they live, and most importantly, don’t take your blessings for granted.  Be thankful for what you have today, because it could all be gone tomorrow.

Goodbye.

There is one word we have to say a lot as a military family…the dreaded “G” word: Goodbye.  We had to say it to some of our best friends just last night.  It never gets easier.

Being a military family means you never stay anywhere longer than 3 or 4 years.  You move, your friends move, and your visits with family are never long enough and the goodbyes are always difficult.  As soon as you find a good friend, one of you gets orders.  It never fails.  It’s just the way it goes. 

When you’re the one with orders, you have to leave every single friend you’ve made at that base.  You have to say goodbye to everyone and everything you know, and go off into the great unknown.  You have no idea what the next base will be like.  It’s like jumping off a cliff, not knowing what is at the bottom.  PCS moves are terribly stressful, thanks to the house inspections, TMO appointments, briefings, out-processing and everything in between.  Your whole life gets packed into boxes by strangers.  The house that just became home, is now empty and sad.  You hand over the keys and are officially homeless for weeks, even months, until you get to your next base and find a place to live.  You bounce around from hotel to hotel, and even the guest rooms of family or friends.  By the time you get a place and all of your stuff, you are sick of airplanes, rental cars, hotels and fast food.  You have never been happier to drive your own car and sleep in your own bed.  You are in a strange place, and get lost every time you leave the house.  The people there talk funny, and you can’t pronounce the street names or find the dang commissary.  You know absolutely NO one and your families are hundreds, even thousands, of miles away.  It’s fun to explore and do things that you couldn’t do at the last base, but once the newness of it all wears off, the homesickness hits you like a ton of bricks.  You miss your old life, your friends, even your job more than you thought you would.  After a few months, you slowly get used to your new home and make some amazing friends.  Before you know it, it’s time to go through it all over again.  You’re there just long enough to get attached.

Then there’s the flipside–being the one that’s left.  When you are so far away from family, your friends become your second family.  You see movies together, go out to eat, your kids become buddies, and you spend holidays at each other’s houses.  They become such a huge part of your life.  Then one day, your friends break the news, sadness in there eyes; “So…we got orders today.”  And it’s like you’ve been punched in the gut.  You try to picture life without them, but you can’t.  Actually, you don’t even want to think about it.  So you go on with life, making the most of what little time you have left to spend with them.  You try not to dwell on it, you tell yourself you’ve been through this before and that it will be easier this go around.  You try to ignore the loudly ticking clock hanging over your head, counting down the days.  Next thing you know, there’s a moving truck parked in front of their house, and they are gone, just like that. 

Every time you walk the dog, you see their empty house.  For a split second, you forget and stop to wave, only to realize their car isn’t in the driveway.  You take your son to the park, and he plays by himself instead of with his life-long friend.  You sadly notice the empty spot at the picnic table where your friend used to sit, keeping you company as the boys played.  Everything reminds you of them and makes you happy and sad all at once.  You drive through the base and see Will and Annie’s old house, occupied by strangers now. You remember sitting on that very lanai, talking and laughing until the wee hours; having Thanksgiving dinner there, and playing cards.  You go to park 3 doors down, and see Chris and Lauren’s empty house.  You remember making s’mores around the fire in that back yard, playing balderdash and spending Halloweens and Christmases there.  You see Zech and Ashley’s kids on facebook, growing like weeds and it kills you that you can’t be there in person.  You see their familiar house in the background of those pictures, and remember all the good times spent there, celebrating New Year’s in your pajamas and having dinner together just because.  You see pictures of your old friends hanging out without you, and it makes you miss them even more.

It’s far from easy, but it’s part of what we signed up for with this military thing.  You just never know– our next base could be within driving distance of theirs!   I always tell myself 2 things when someone moves:  “How lucky we are to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard,” and, “It’s not goodbye, it’s see you later!”  It sounds cliché, but it’s true.  Each and every friend we’ve made has a special place in our hearts forever.  I would rather have a short time to spend with them than to have never met them at all.  Without the military, we wouldn’t have all these amazing people in our lives.  Even though all of our lives go on, thousands of miles apart from each other in several different time zones, we never forget a single one of them.  Thanks to modern technology, you can easily stay in contact.  They’re all a text message or phone call away.  But it’s just not the same.  Those precious moments spent in person, making memories and enjoying life, are absolutely priceless.  If anything, it’s taught me to make the most of every second you have with someone.  Live today like you’re getting orders tomorrow.

Will the Real Mom Please Stand Up?

This is a beautiful way to look at motherhood. So true.

Mom Life Now

“What is REAL?” the Velveteen Rabbit asked the Skin Horse one day. “Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?”

“Real isn’t how you are made,’ said the Skin Horse. ‘It’s a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real.’

― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Motherhood has awakened a Realness in me I did not know existed. An overwhelming love–almost more than I can bear.  My existence has taken on a completely different meaning.

I am truly living.

‘Does it hurt?’ asked the Rabbit. 

‘Sometimes,’ said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. ‘When you are Real you don’t mind being hurt.’ 

― Margery Williams, The Velveteen Rabbit

Motherhood is painful. It involves hurt I never understood before.

My life is consumed with love…

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What I Really Say vs. What My Toddler Hears

What I really say: Leave the dog alone.    What he hears: Poke the dog’s eyeball out!

What I really say: Stop digging in the trash!    What he hears: Eat out of the trash?  Yay!  Don’t mind if I do!

What I really say: Don’t squish your food between your toes.   What he hears: Squish more food between my toes.

What I really say: Quit pushing buttons on the DVR.   What he hears: Reset the DVR!  But wait until something good comes on..

What I really say: Don’t touch the remote!   What he hears: Turn on the TV and record random shows, like soccer game reruns!

What I really say: The garage door opener isn’t a toy!    What he hears: Hide the garage door opener so Mom and Dad have to buy a new one.  What a fun game!

What I really say: Away from the fish tank!    What he hears: Hide behind the fish tank!

What I really say: Leave the dog’s food alone.   What he hears:  Must eat the dog food. 

What I really say: Do NOT play in the toilet!    What he hears: Splash in the toilet water!

What I really say: Calm down.    What he hears: Freak out!

What I really say: Stop feeding your lunch to the dog.    What he hears:  Feed ALL my lunch to the dog! 

What I really say:  Come here!    What he hears: Crawl away as fast as possible and laugh about it.

 What I really say: Give daddy kisses!    What he hears: Smack daddy in the face.

What I really say:  Don’t touch mommy’s frosty until we get home.  What he hears: Shove hand directly into frosty cup before we even make it to the car!

What I really say:  Time to go to your doctor’s appointment.  What he hears: Time for a diaper explosion!

What I really say:  Hold still, please!   What he hears: Wiggle, squirm, and flail around…consider it done!

What I really say:  Don’t feed that to the dog, it’s toxic for animals!    What he hears:  Feed all of it to the dog!!!!  Muhahahaha!

What I really say: Put your ABC magnets back.   What he hears: Throw them in the trash can!

What I really say:  Say hi to the nice lady.   What he hears:  Say nothing and stare creepily.

Parenting…never a dull moment.  I find it increasingly difficult to keep a straight face when I’m getting onto him. 

 

4 Things That Rock About Military Life

1. It’s an adventure!  You live in places you never would have seen otherwise. So far, we’ve had the privilege of living in Florida and Hawaii.  I never dreamed I’d even get to visit Hawaii in my lifetime, much less live here.  There are so many things you are able to see and experience.  It seems strange to have someone else telling you where to live all the time, but you get used to it.  It actually takes the pressure off–it’s a huge decision and it’s not on your shoulders.  You just wait for orders, and off you go.  You find yourself getting the itch to move after 3-4 years, ready for the next adventure.  After awhile, it gets hard to imagine staying in one place longer than that!  You get to see the world and that is pretty amazing.

2. Seeing your husband in uniform.  We’re going on 8 years of his military career and it’s still not old.  Not only does he look good in it, but it makes me so proud of him.  He went through basic training, and tech school, and years of working on the flight line; he’s earned every one of those stripes.  Every time you attend a promotion or awards ceremony, you find yourself getting teary-eyed.  He looks sharp in those blues, and you are so unbelievably proud of him.  He is part of something incredible, part of the reason this country is free.  Besides, who doesn’t love a man in uniform, amiright?

3. Friendships.  One of the advantages of moving around all the time is that you meet all kinds of amazing people.  Military friends know exactly what you’re going through; they know what deployments, TDYs and PCS moves entail.  They just get it.  They are in the trenches right there with you.  A fellow military wife knows how hard it can be to hold down the fort while the husband is gone.  The military husbands know how much it sucks to be the one who leaves, missing out on precious time with their families.  Your civilian friends may be able to sympathize, but your military friends can empathize.  When you’re thousands of miles from your families, especially during holidays, your friends become your second family.  Having that support system in place is priceless.  You end up with life long friends all over the country, and it’s pretty incredible.

4. You reach a whole new level of patriotism.  Your pet peeve is when people disrespect the national anthem.  When you hear that familiar tune, you’re on your feet with your hand over your heart, and all the men in women in uniform are standing at attention.  When those jets fly over, you are fighting tears.  You know exactly what these soldiers have sacrificed to keep you free.  You know at least one person who went to the desert and never came back, or a family that had to bury their hero.  You know how hard they work, and you are overwhelmed with gratitude every time that national anthem plays.  The brave men and women in uniform don’t do it for the glory, or because they are huge fan of whatever president is in office.  The government is constantly cutting their funding and lowering their quality of life, but this doesn’t stop them.  It’s more than all of that.  The heart of America bleeds red, white and blue.  It beats for liberty, justice, freedom and the pursuit of happiness.  Our soldiers fight to protect this heart.  No matter who is office, or what shady politics are going on, they don’t give up.  They do it to protect their children and families.  They do it to keep future generations from experiencing the oppression that is so common in the rest of the world.  Being married to your hero is amazing; you’re part of something bigger than yourself. 

Becoming Mom

Becoming a mother is life changing. As soon as that pregnancy tests reads positive, your life will never be the same.  It’s like being frozen at the top of a hill on rollercoaster;  you see that positive test and the wind is knocked right out of your lungs.  You can’t even breathe.  You are paralyzed by how real things just got.  There is no going back.  With that realization, the rollercoaster is nudged right down a very tall, very steep hill.  It goes FAST and there is no stopping it.  First, you literally puke your guts up, then you find yourself throwing your hands in the air and learning to enjoy the ride.  Even though you wanted to be pregnant, it happened much faster than you thought it would.  You didn’t have much time to prepare yourself for the idea.

Pregnancy is strange–the days are long, but the weeks are so very short. You feel like a nauseous, waddling, fire-breathing dragon–there aren’t enough tums at Walgreen’s to tame that heartburn!  And don’t get me started on the cravings.  At the same time, you feel amazing, like you are the luckiest person alive for being part of such a miracle.  With every kick, every hiccup, you get more and more attached the little life that’s taken over your body.  You look forward to every single ultrasound, falling more in love with the little guy each time you catch a glimpse of him.  You would do anything for this tiny baby, even though you haven’t officially met yet.

Your belly literally grows overnight.  There is no gradual transition.  First, your just you.  Then all of the sudden, you’re pregnant you.  Next thing you know, you’re a whale.  Then you become a woman in labor; you’re in pain, you’re scared, you’re so excited, all at once.  It’s a rollercoaster of complications that you weren’t expecting.  You are scared for your baby’s life.  It’s the opposite of your well-thought out birth plan.  But you don’t have time to dwell on that right now, because you need to focus on getting this baby out as quickly and safely as possible.  Next thing you know, you’re so exhausted you can’t think straight and your baby is being handed to you.  You’re officially a mother.  Just like that.  It seems like you found out about your pregnancy just yesterday, and now you are holding a tiny human that you made.  You are so SO relieved that he is okay.  It’s incredible, and mind-boggling.

Now you are getting discharged from the hospital.  You’re in so much pain from the delivery that you’re surprised you are even allowed to leave.  You change out of that pink hospital gown into your own clothes and you finally allow yourself to look in the mirror for the first time.  Your stomach seems so flat after being the size of a beach ball for months.  You feel so much lighter, and look more like the old you-but you don’t feel like the old you at all.  You’re feeling brave, so you lift up your shirt to survey the damage:  it looks like you got in a fight with a tiger and the tiger won.  There are bright red, angry stretch marks, like claw marks, on either side of your belly button.  Your skin is looser.  For 9 months, you religiously applied stretch mark prevention creams and oils, only for your efforts to fail.  You were hoping so badly that you’d escape the horrors of stretch marks, but there they are, and your body is ruined.  You decide to buy stretch mark fading cream next chance you get.

A nurse pushes you to the hospital exit in a wheelchair.  You and your husband buckle baby in his car seat, and your on your way home–your first car ride as a new family of three.  You are parents now; your husband has become a father and it’s amazing.  You realize there are no doctors and nurses anymore, it’s all on you to keep this baby alive and well.  You’re nervous about this, but so excited to go home.  You can’t wait to sleep in your bed; you haven’t slept in days.  You’re terrified your milk will never come in (little do you know, you’re going to wake up in a puddle of it in the morning and your boobs are going to be huge and painful, forcing you to head to Motherhood Maternity for bras that fit).

It’s been 4 days, and you’re still pretty sore.  You can barely walk up the stairs.  Nothing prepared you for how bad this pain would be (not that you let it stop you); thankfully, you are getting a little better everyday.  You’re up every 2-3 hours for feedings and diaper changes.  You find yourself falling asleep with baby on your chest, in the middle of burping him.  When you’re awake, you can’t stop staring at him; he is just so beautiful.  You are reeling from this whirlwind of motherhood.  In less than a week, you’ve been pregnant, in labor, in the hospital with a brand new baby boy, now you’re home with him, and you’re a mom now.  This baby you’ve dreamed about, and waited 9 months for is finally here, snuggled up to your chest.  It doesn’t even seem real.  It all happened much too fast to be real.  You don’t feel like the same person you were 9 short months ago; you don’t even look the same.  You’re husband is more than your husband now, he’s the father of your child–and a very good one.  Every time you look at your son, you remember how blessed you are to be together–both of you were lucky to have made it through that delivery.  Your story could have had a much different, very tragic ending.   This realization gives you the strength to go on when you are exhausted and overwhelmed.  You don’t always nap when baby does; instead, you end up playing card games with your husband and relatives.  You just want to feel normal for a minute, to remember that you’re still you.

You find yourself mourning the loss of the birth experience you wanted, but didn’t get.  This feeling is vey unexpected and throws you for a loop.  You and your baby are healthy, and things could have been so much worse.  Yet, you are sad–sad that coming into this world was so incredibly hard on your sweet baby, and sad that you missed out on those first few precious hours of bonding time with him.  You feel like your body failed you because you had to be induced, and in turn, you failed your son.  You even have flashbacks sometimes.  Your body feels completely wrecked, and you worry that it will never be the same again.  But then, you remind yourself how blessed you are–you allow yourself to be a little sad, but you refuse to sink into a full-blown depression.  The love from your husband and newborn is so healing, washing over you when you need it most.

The relatives fly home and husband goes back to work. The reality of motherhood sets in, and you get so lost in it.  You struggle with your identity at times, feeling as if your life has been turned upside down, while everyone else’s goes on like normal.  It has been months and you’re still up every single night.  The baby won’t take naps or go to bed without you.  You are so jealous of your sleeping husband…you resist the urge to punch him because he gets to sleep and you don’t.  You feel like a jersey cow; if you’re not attached to a pump, you have a baby attached to you.  Baby has a meltdown every time you go to the grocery store and it’s a nightmare.  You spend all day trying to keep up with the demands of the baby and the house, yet you have nothing to show for it when your husband gets home.  The baby throws food on your just-mopped floors and refuses to take naps so you don’t have time to fold the heaps of laundry.  You desperately try to do it all, and feel like a failure when you can’t.  Since you’re not working anymore, you “should” be able to get it all done, there is no excuse.  You need to cut yourself some slack, but you don’t.  You meet everyone else’s needs but your own.  Everybody always needs something all the time–the dog is barking to go outside, baby’s crying because he dropped his pacifier again, husband needs a clean uniform for work, dinner is burning and the UPS guy is at the door.  You feel like a robot with dying batteries.

You have the added challenge of being a military family–the closest grandparents are 4,000 miles away.  Your stuck on a rock in the middle of the ocean with nobody.  Sometimes, your husband has to leave for duty assignments.  When that happens, everything is on your shoulders.  That’s when baby starts teething and getting up 10 times a night.  He learns to crawl and get into everything just in time for you to have no help whatsoever.   You’re lucky to eat or get a shower.  You somehow make it through a month of this, with no sleep.  But your stronger for it.  You’ve just proved to yourself that you can hold down the fort with a baby while your military man is serving his country.  This gives you confidence; confidence that you can handle things on your own, so your husband doesn’t have to worry while he is gone.

In the midst of that blur of craziness and exhaustion, there are moments of clarity that give you strength and hope.  Your husband volunteers to get up with the baby so you can get some sleep, helps you with the dishes and sends you out of the house to get your nails done–all without being asked (he’s just that awesome).  The baby gives you that first slobbery kiss.  Your son lights up when daddy walks into the room, and seeing the two together melts your heart in a way you can’t explain.  Your 5-month old says “mama” for the first time and you LOVE being his mama; you feel like the luckiest mama in the world.  Those big blue eyes and that precious smile keep you going.  You watch him grow and are so proud of him every time he learns something new.  Even though you’ve spent countless hours singing lullabies and rocking him to sleep, you love being able to hold him and cuddle him.  It’s already going by fast, and you know the days of having him lie still in your arms are numbered.  When you finally get him to eat real food and sleep through the night, it feels like a huge victory.  You slowly start getting your sanity back; well, some of it anyway.  😉  You find that as your baby grows, so do you; you grow as a mother every single day.  You get more and more comfortable in your own skin, and more confident in your new identity.

A year passes and your cute little baby has become a handsome, busy toddler.  He is so sweet, smart and amazing.  Your husband still loves you, and he’s still an incredible father.  You’re amazed and how your body was able to recover from the trauma of childbirth.  Your stretch marks aren’t so angry anymore–they’ve faded quite a bit, actually.  Your down to your pre-pregnancy weight, but you still don’t look like the old you.  Your stomach still isn’t perfectly flat, after all, it was stretched beyond it’s limits only 15 months ago.  Your boobs shrink because they are no longer making milk.  You get depressed about this for a few days, no thanks to the lady who pointed at your not-so-flat belly and asked about your “pregnancy.”  But you get over it.  You’re slowly learning to love yourself and not care what anyone else thinks.  You have come out on the other side of the biggest transition you’ve ever undergone in your life.  You’ve been on one heck of journey is such a short amount of time.  You’ve realized that your well of strength was much deeper than you thought.  Your son teaches you just as much as you teach him, if not more.  You have a beautiful family and you’ve never felt more complete.  You have become “mom,” and you didn’t lose yourself after all; you have only just found yourself.