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Monday, February 28, 2005
The Longest Day
Well, he's finally gone. It hasn't even been a full day and yet I feel like it's been a week. Bill and I had our last dinner out, without the kids (thanks mom!) at Souplantation, our favorite salad spot. We came home to put the kids to bed and got his last minute stuff together. What happens if you forget to pack something you need and you're going to be in the middle of nowhere for 7 months and it takes 3 weeks to get a package? That is called SOL, my friend. We left our house around 12:30am to hit Denny's before getting on the road. Bill was dressed in his desert cammi's & it's a big no no to be out in town while in this uniform. Well, rules are meant to be broken sometimes. We weren't even seated five minutes when some young Lance Corporal (I'm assuming) came up to Bill and stammered, "Uh, excuse me Staff Sergeant, can I ask why you're in your cammies?" If you're a Marine and you see another Marine 'breaking the rules' you're supposed to say something. It's usually kind of a jerky thing to do when it's something as miniscule as trying to have coffee while in uniform. So Bill replies,
"I'm on my way to Iraq this morning and I'd like to have one last meal with my wife."
"Oh, ok. Works for me." Sheesh!! Can't we be miserable alone??
We arrived to Bill's unit at 2:30am. Muster was supposed to be at 3. There weren't a whole lot of cars in the parking lot as the clock got closer to 3. So, we drove to the armory to see if they'd mustered there. Nope. Hmmm... Finally, someone shows up and it turns out the muster time had been changed on Friday (after Bill left work) to 4am. Ugh! So we hang out and wait, and talk and try not to fall asleep seeing as how we've both been up since the previous morning. Cars start to pour into the parking lot and men in beige colored camoflage start to file out while wives and children try to stay warm in their cars or huddle together with blankets. Literal tons of gear starts to pile up in a neat little rows divided by unit and company. There's plenty of protection sitting on top of seabags. Helmets and bullet proof vests sit neatly atop the Marines' necessities. Gun holsters hug every man's thigh and nervous Marines light up cigarettes in a domino effect. The war is still on.
By 4:45am, the chill of the cool morning air made sure to keep my fingers and toes quite cold. Shivering and tired I decided to leave. At least this way Bill could rest while leaning up against his pack while he waited for the instruction to go to the armory to pick up his pistol and we could just be done with the anticipatory goodbye. He wouldn't even board the bus which would take them to the air base until 8am. I decided it would be best for me to drive through the base to get home. The windy road and frequent speed changes would keep me alert more than a smooth cement highway for the 30 minute drive home. When I was about 1/3 of the way through the base, a road closure sign appeared. No detour, no alternate route. Closed. Tired, sad and exhausted I had to turn around and retrace my curvy path back to the northern part of the base to hop on that freeway I didn't want to get on. I got home around 5:45 and crawled into bed for a blissful, but dreamless, 2 hours.
*Feed the baby.
*Carefully bring the baby downstairs and hope mom is awake.
*Mom is sleeping.
*Mom wakes up and offers to take the baby.
*Be sure to give mom 50% of my lottery winnings.
*Crawl back into bed until 10:30am.
Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like you're in a dream-like trance? Is it possible to be so tired that you're dizzy while sitting perfectly still? Twenty-eight years old and I'm overjoyed that my mom is willing to still take care of me. She fed my children and cooked dinner for me. She washed my dishes, emptied the cat box (ok, 75% of my winnings), swept my floors, and helped me take my trash out to the curb. Aren't moms great??
She left at 8pm.
Trey was put to bed at 9:15...9:30...9:35...9:42...9:50...9:58...10:04...10:15...10:45...11:05
If this kid doesn't go to sleep, I'm sending him to his dad. Did I mention that we have to get up at 6:30am in order to make it to a MOPs meeting?
Goodnight.
"I'm on my way to Iraq this morning and I'd like to have one last meal with my wife."
"Oh, ok. Works for me." Sheesh!! Can't we be miserable alone??
We arrived to Bill's unit at 2:30am. Muster was supposed to be at 3. There weren't a whole lot of cars in the parking lot as the clock got closer to 3. So, we drove to the armory to see if they'd mustered there. Nope. Hmmm... Finally, someone shows up and it turns out the muster time had been changed on Friday (after Bill left work) to 4am. Ugh! So we hang out and wait, and talk and try not to fall asleep seeing as how we've both been up since the previous morning. Cars start to pour into the parking lot and men in beige colored camoflage start to file out while wives and children try to stay warm in their cars or huddle together with blankets. Literal tons of gear starts to pile up in a neat little rows divided by unit and company. There's plenty of protection sitting on top of seabags. Helmets and bullet proof vests sit neatly atop the Marines' necessities. Gun holsters hug every man's thigh and nervous Marines light up cigarettes in a domino effect. The war is still on.
By 4:45am, the chill of the cool morning air made sure to keep my fingers and toes quite cold. Shivering and tired I decided to leave. At least this way Bill could rest while leaning up against his pack while he waited for the instruction to go to the armory to pick up his pistol and we could just be done with the anticipatory goodbye. He wouldn't even board the bus which would take them to the air base until 8am. I decided it would be best for me to drive through the base to get home. The windy road and frequent speed changes would keep me alert more than a smooth cement highway for the 30 minute drive home. When I was about 1/3 of the way through the base, a road closure sign appeared. No detour, no alternate route. Closed. Tired, sad and exhausted I had to turn around and retrace my curvy path back to the northern part of the base to hop on that freeway I didn't want to get on. I got home around 5:45 and crawled into bed for a blissful, but dreamless, 2 hours.
*Feed the baby.
*Carefully bring the baby downstairs and hope mom is awake.
*Mom is sleeping.
*Mom wakes up and offers to take the baby.
*Be sure to give mom 50% of my lottery winnings.
*Crawl back into bed until 10:30am.
Have you ever had one of those days where you feel like you're in a dream-like trance? Is it possible to be so tired that you're dizzy while sitting perfectly still? Twenty-eight years old and I'm overjoyed that my mom is willing to still take care of me. She fed my children and cooked dinner for me. She washed my dishes, emptied the cat box (ok, 75% of my winnings), swept my floors, and helped me take my trash out to the curb. Aren't moms great??
She left at 8pm.
Trey was put to bed at 9:15...9:30...9:35...9:42...9:50...9:58...10:04...10:15...10:45...11:05
If this kid doesn't go to sleep, I'm sending him to his dad. Did I mention that we have to get up at 6:30am in order to make it to a MOPs meeting?
Goodnight.
Saturday, February 26, 2005
Friday, February 25, 2005
My Little Pony
Ready for a trip down memory lane? If you were a child of the 80's then you probably remember My Little Pony. I stumbled across this site looking for a new hairstyle. Scary what comes up on search engines! Hope you have as much fun as I did looking back at your childhood.
Sunday, February 20, 2005
SHIVER ME TIMBERS!!!
This is the first news story that popped up on my computer this morning. It's a good thing I wasn't eating at the time, or there'd be cheerios plastered all over the screen. Don't open this if you've got your little ones with you, it's the stuff of nightmares! {{{shivvvverrr}}}
Click here
Click here
Good thing Double A's come in bulk at Costco
Trey got a Valentine's Day card from my mom. A tri-fold train Valentine's Card which Trey has converted to a flat version of his newest transportation fantasy. The child will not leave this card alone. It comes with him to dinner and is not allowed to leave the kitchen, because that my friends, is where it lives. As he's driving...maybe conducting...this train across his little table, he turns to me and says, "Mommy, it broke."
"It broke? What broke?"
"My train. It not working. Needs batteries."
"Trey, there's no batteries in a card."
"Oh yeah."
What a silly, strange and oddly fascinating child he's becoming.
"It broke? What broke?"
"My train. It not working. Needs batteries."
"Trey, there's no batteries in a card."
"Oh yeah."
What a silly, strange and oddly fascinating child he's becoming.
Tuesday, February 15, 2005
It's Just a Bowl Of Cherries, I Tell Ya
We've had a long day and it's only noon. Both kids were up before 7am, hacking and coughing and wheezing and sneezing with perpetual runny noses, whiney, complaining, dramatic and attention seeking. I took them outside to play on the swingset. The phone rings. It's my friend Amanda, whose hubby is gone (again) for their anniversary. Can I talk to her for 5, five minutes without an interruption? No. Trey accidentally pokes Leah in the mouth so she's crying and then he's crying because I took her out of the swing when he wanted her in the swing. Amidst cries and sniffs are pleas to push someone on the swing who wouldn't let me touch him before because he wanted to "doit myseff". Ugh! Try to put the baby down for a nap. Nope. Try to get the boy to play alone. Nope. A good 45 minutes goes by before everyone is happy again.
Finally! I'll check my email.
Guess what? Best Friend may be getting a new car and she's going to Maui for a week this summer for free. Couldn't have been worse timing. Talk about kicking someone while they're down. What do I get to do this summer? Stay home with my kids and plan my daughter's first birthday party knowing her daddy is going to miss it since he'll be in Iraq while trying to reassure Trey that he is still my baby and I will always love him and how am I going to keep my sanity with two little monkeys clinging to my legs? You gotta love the Corps.
Finally! I'll check my email.
Guess what? Best Friend may be getting a new car and she's going to Maui for a week this summer for free. Couldn't have been worse timing. Talk about kicking someone while they're down. What do I get to do this summer? Stay home with my kids and plan my daughter's first birthday party knowing her daddy is going to miss it since he'll be in Iraq while trying to reassure Trey that he is still my baby and I will always love him and how am I going to keep my sanity with two little monkeys clinging to my legs? You gotta love the Corps.
Sunday, February 13, 2005
And the Countdown Begins...
I just said goodbye to my husband's parents which means we are one step closer to Bill's deployment. Am I a bad wife for wanting him to just leave already?? The anticipation leading up to a deployment is like a horrible twist on the anticipation you feel before Christmas. It's going to be bad, and painful and a myriad of other emotions, none of them good. Just give me my shot and let me heal. Plus, once he's gone I can start counting the days until he comes home.
Trey and Leah have both been demanding a lot more attention. Leah won't let me more than two inches from her. Even if I'm in the same room she's whining and giving me the look that says, "I can't believe my own mom would abandon me in my time of need!" It's really quite pathetic in a cute sort of way. Trey on the other hand has been trying to talk over every conversation, stick his face in any camera lens that threatens to take a picture of anything, and run around in a dizzying frenzy leaping from one couch to the other. How in the world am I supposed to manage these two people alone?! I've read that deployments may cause some children to regress. Let's see...since his baby sister came along Trey has noticed that he doesn't get quite as much attention as he used to and will now act like a baby, forgetting the basic rules of the English language, crawling and sticking her pacifiers in his mouth. Mind you, this child would NOT take a pacifier when I needed him to when he actually was a baby. So, if this deployment causes him to regress anymore, say, wanting to wear diapers again, I'm going to box him up and send him FedEx to my inlaws because I will be drinking cheap wine in a dark room listening to Coldplay while popping Paxil like M&M's. Mmmmm, M&M's.
Trey and Leah have both been demanding a lot more attention. Leah won't let me more than two inches from her. Even if I'm in the same room she's whining and giving me the look that says, "I can't believe my own mom would abandon me in my time of need!" It's really quite pathetic in a cute sort of way. Trey on the other hand has been trying to talk over every conversation, stick his face in any camera lens that threatens to take a picture of anything, and run around in a dizzying frenzy leaping from one couch to the other. How in the world am I supposed to manage these two people alone?! I've read that deployments may cause some children to regress. Let's see...since his baby sister came along Trey has noticed that he doesn't get quite as much attention as he used to and will now act like a baby, forgetting the basic rules of the English language, crawling and sticking her pacifiers in his mouth. Mind you, this child would NOT take a pacifier when I needed him to when he actually was a baby. So, if this deployment causes him to regress anymore, say, wanting to wear diapers again, I'm going to box him up and send him FedEx to my inlaws because I will be drinking cheap wine in a dark room listening to Coldplay while popping Paxil like M&M's. Mmmmm, M&M's.
Friday, February 11, 2005
Wednesday, February 09, 2005
More Tiny Conversations
Yesterday I was collecting a couple of things for Leah's bath when a tiny voice from above shouted something like, "chips ona bed!"
"What Trey?"
"Chips ona bed."
"There's chips on the bed??"
"Yeah."
"Whose bed?"
"Mommy-Daddy bed."
"Who put chips on mommy and daddy's bed?"
"Daddy."
"Daddy put chips on mommy and daddy's bed?" I ask suspiciously.
"Yes. Big no no no."
"You're right. That IS a big no no no." Trey then frowns his brow, puts one hand on his hip and points his other finger wagging it at an imaginary daddy saying, 'no no no daddy'. "Well, you be sure to tell him that later, ok?", I say.
"Ok."
Bill had lots of work to do in the office so we didn't see him for about an hour or so. I bathed the baby and stuck Trey in the tub. I called Bill up to finish bathing his son so I could put the baby to bed. After Trey's bath, teeth brushing, pj's and story time, Trey proceeded to tell daddy that he made a big no no no. Mind you, this was at least two hours after the fact.
That's MY boy! Never forget the opportunity to correct someone's no no no behavior.
"What Trey?"
"Chips ona bed."
"There's chips on the bed??"
"Yeah."
"Whose bed?"
"Mommy-Daddy bed."
"Who put chips on mommy and daddy's bed?"
"Daddy."
"Daddy put chips on mommy and daddy's bed?" I ask suspiciously.
"Yes. Big no no no."
"You're right. That IS a big no no no." Trey then frowns his brow, puts one hand on his hip and points his other finger wagging it at an imaginary daddy saying, 'no no no daddy'. "Well, you be sure to tell him that later, ok?", I say.
"Ok."
Bill had lots of work to do in the office so we didn't see him for about an hour or so. I bathed the baby and stuck Trey in the tub. I called Bill up to finish bathing his son so I could put the baby to bed. After Trey's bath, teeth brushing, pj's and story time, Trey proceeded to tell daddy that he made a big no no no. Mind you, this was at least two hours after the fact.
That's MY boy! Never forget the opportunity to correct someone's no no no behavior.
Friday, February 04, 2005
Early Morning Conversations
"Leah, say Mama."
"Aaah!"
"Leah...say Mama."
"Aaaaah!"
"Leeeah. Say Mama!"
"Aah!"
"Leah, say Dada."
"Dada."
Figures.
"Aaah!"
"Leah...say Mama."
"Aaaaah!"
"Leeeah. Say Mama!"
"Aah!"
"Leah, say Dada."
"Dada."
Figures.
Wednesday, February 02, 2005
How Does He Do It?
As I was dressing Trey today he mentioned that the crown on his shirt was blue. Yes, it's a blue crown, I say. One year ago he attended a birthday party where every child got a t-shirt with an iron-on crown (blue or pink) and their name printed on it since it WAS a princess party and what's a princess party without royal attire? Then he tells me that Miranda's (his girlfriend) crown was pink. Now how in the world can a three year old remember that a shirt he hasn't seen in a year had a pink crown on it, especially since it wasn't even his own? I'm assuming you can add, but in the rare case that you can't, Trey was just past his SECOND birthday when this princess party happened. He better get straight A's in school with the memory he's got.
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