Mental Disorders & Abrasive Lifeguards world tour 2006

Lots happening here. I'll try to cover it all in brief. Although, I admit that being brief is painful for your talkative host.

Heard from dh. He called on Thursday. The conversation was rather odd.

He was diagnosed with PTS last time he came home. I'm noticing some of the same signs again (although I suppose you can't call is "Post"-traumatic Stress when he's still in the thick of it). It's scary because I remember how awful that experience was. It was the only time in our marriage that we seriously discussed divorce. He wasn't himself to the point that he was dangerous. We worked through it, though. I'm proud that we worked through it. I'm glad we came out the other side. I'm terrified of having to do that again.

Recently, I realized for the first time how tempting it is to just run away from the whole situation. I was never prepared for this. It's not MY problem. I shouldn't be forced to deal with this again when I'm going out of my way to make sure dh feels connected to us, to make sure he knows he's loved, to make sure he knows how much we value him, to make sure he knows he's not alone. Just the thought of having to deal with the PTS issues again is stressing me out and dh doesn't come home for a few more months. I don't want to dread his homecoming.

If it was anyone else, I don't know that I would stick around. But it's dh and I love him dearly, so I'll stand beside him until we work through this again. I know it will be a struggle, though. It's only now that I've seen the signs again that I'm reminded of just how awful it was.

This time, at least I think I'll have a better handle on it. Last time, I was so terrified that the man I knew was gone forever. I made promises to dh when we got married, but this was NOT the man I married. Because of that fear, I did/didn't do things that I regret now. I wish I would have realized that the behavior was #1. not his fault. He wasn't trying to be hostile. His brain was just working differently as a result of the PTS and #2 not permanent. I really was scared that I'd never get him back--WE'D never get him back.

So much for that thing about brevity! I've already written a novel.

The summary is that I have heard from dh, but not nearly as much as I'd like and he's showing signs of PTS again. Been there. Done that. Will be selling commemorative t-shirts by the highway. Have absolutely no desire to do that again, but it looks like that's where we're headed.

After I spoke to him, I headed to a local pool with a friend. While there, we tried to feed our babies and wound up in the middle of a controversy. My friend was asked to leave because she was nursing. Um...no. We have specific state laws that allow for nursing in public. Lifeguards made a scene. We feared it would turn into a huge saga, but we've been pleasantly surprised to find everyone we've contacted so far is aware of the law, apologetic for the actions of the lifeguards, and sympathetic to our situation. I'm pleasantly surprised by how things have worked out.

We're both still nervous about going back to the pool, though. The lifeguards made it very obvious they were annoyed with us. One 16-year-old lifeguard asked, "Why are you making this an issue?" Mind you, we weren't. The lifeguards were the ones who kept harassing us. We complied when we could and politely told them when they were out of line. We explained we weren't trying to make an issue of it. We just wanted them to obey the law. We didn't want to start a crusade. We didn't want to cause a scene. We didn't want to expose ourselves. We only wanted to feed our babies.

What happens when we go back to the pool? We both wonder what's going to happen next.

Well, there you have it. My life consists of abrasive lifeguards and possible mental disorders. Hmmm...."Mental Disorders and Abrasive Lifeguards?" Sounds like a band.

Wallowing

I think I've handled this deployment fairly well thus far. This has by far been the easiest. I think that's in part just due to getting the hang of it.

When something does get me down, I try desperately not to wallow in it.

The enormity of it, however, has hit. Pardon me while I wallow in the misery for a moment.

I'm more than a little annoyed that dh won't write back. We settled the high anxiety stuff, but I can't get him to write back at all (other than about charges on the credit card). I've been out of bitch mode for a few days now. So it's not like he has a bunch of "You suck because" e-mails to which he needs to respond. They're all either pictures of the kids or letters about how much I love him. I realize that women are far wordier than men and are typically more open to expressing feelings, but like I've said in other posts, I'll settle for any response at all. I've told him that as well.

It's so freaking frustrating. I check my mail constantly. I stay up much later than I should in hopes that I'll get an e-mail from him. Nope. Doesn't happen. I know his work schedule is straight out of the depths of hell, but if he has time to write back quickly about the financial stuff, then he has time to write a quick, "Ditto. Love you too."

I know he distances himself when he's away. It's a coping mechanism. He's always done it. It's nothing new. Being familiar with it, though, doesn't make it any easier. When he's gone, I want so desperately to hear that he loves me and he still feels connected to us, but he wants to push us to the back of his mind so he doesn't miss us too much.

This morning, I thought about the countdown over there in the corner. I thought to myself, "When 100 days have past, I'll celebrate." Then I realized that's more than 6 weeks away. And that will only get us to the halfway point. He may be home later than planned, so that might not even be halfway.

My mind is spending more time focused on the vast amount of time and space separating us right now. There's still so much time left to struggle without him. I'm stuck in a dark lonely place right now and let me tell ya, the view from here is not pretty.

Still no word

Still no word from the husband.

That's not entirely true. When I checked the credit card statement and e-mailed him to ask what some charges were, he got back to me pretty quickly about that. So when it comes to financial stuff, he's 1 for 1.

When it comes to e-mails wherein I pour my heart out and rave about how much I adore him, his track record for replies is not nearly as good.

Sleep eludes me. Rants, however, do not.

I'm going freaking insane. I've been writing all these e-mails to dh and I'm not hearing anything back. I know he's busy working crazy hours and it's not easy for him to get to a computer. I understand that. I'm desperately trying to NOT be too demanding, but in this battle, the "I need him right now" side of the brain is beating the logical side to a bloody pulp.

I understand all the things that prevent him from e-mailing, but I still find myself hopping on the computer every chance I get to see if there's new mail. It's driving me mad.

I'd be happy to get any sort of response. "I got your e-mail. I love you too. No time to write," would at least be something. Although, admittedly, I would LOVE a long drawn-out e-mail in response to one of my many.

I know the chances aren't good, but like I said, that logical side of the brain has already been beaten senseless. So the only portion left is the side that forces me to stay up and continually hit, "Send/Receive," in the hopes that a magical, mystical long, gushing e-mail from dh will appear before my wondering eyes.

I know he's a man of few words, but sometimes I just wish it wasn't SO few.

Too late (aka the award of shame goes to...)

I searched and found a whole host of college friends I wanted to get back in touch with, so I created a My Space account.

Pardon me while I hang my head in shame.

Talk me down.

I still think My Space is silly. I've always considered it something that teenagers use, not grown adults. I had a Friendster account for about a week years ago which I promptly let die. It was useless. So why am I leaning more and more towards creating a My Space account?

I've been poking around and I've found a few college friends that I'd like to get back in touch with. I saved a few so that I can get more information when I create my account. WHEN I create an account? What on earth is wrong with me? I've been pretty vocal about how I'm not a fan of adults with My Space accounts. So how is it that I'm even considering such an idea? How is it that I'm SERIOUSLY considering it. I feel like such a hypocrite.

What to do? What to do? Talk me down. Please convince me of the reasons I shouldn't create an account. Someone? Anyone? Are there valid reasons to have an account? Help me out here. Please. Pretty pretty please.

Because this made me smile

I should so be in bed right now. I was headed in that direction when I caught sight of the box that is home to the big-ass wedding album. So I decided to sit down and look through the box (if you already read the previous entries, take another look because I added a photo). On top of the album, I found a card from dh. I forget the occasion and there's no date written in it, but this part made me smile:



Oh my stars and garters! We are such dorks! At least we were. This is at least 7 years old, so maybe we're grown up dorks now. :-) Dorky or not, I still think it's sweet.

"Nothing heals me like you do."

It's amazing the promises we make when we're young. It's amazing the faith you can have in the future. It's amazing how much life can change. It's amazing how much WE can change. It's amazing how much you can let yourself rely on someone else. It's amazing the strength you find in each other.

Seven years later, I'm still amazed by the love I feel. You, my dear, are amazing. Don't ever--EVER let yourself forget that.

I swear we didn't know this was on the Dawson Creek soundtrack when we used it as our recessional. I actually didn't know that until I googled it just now.

London Rain
by Heather Nova

I'm coming, I'm coming home to you
I'm alive I'm a mess
I can't wait to get home to you
To get warm, warm and undressed

There've been changes beyond my dreams
Everybody wants me to sing
There've been changes beyond my grasp
Things I'm sinking in

So keep me, keep me
In your bed all day, all day
Nothing heals me like you do
Nothing heals me like you do

And when somebody knows you well
Well there's no comfort like that
And when somebody needs you
Well there's no drug Iike that

So keep me, keep me
In your bed all day, all day
Nothing heals me like you do
Keep me keep me
In your bed all day, all day
Nothing heals me like you do

And where l'm home, curled in your arms
And I'm safe again
I'll close my eyes and sleep, sleep
To the sound of London Rain

So keep me, keep me
In your bed all day, all day
Nothing heals me like you do
Keep me keep me
In your bed all day, all day
Nothing heals me like you do
Nothing heals me like you do

Nothing falls like London Rain
Nothing heals me like you do

Nothing falls like London Rain
Nothing heals me like you do

Nothing falls like London Rain
Nothing heals me like you do

Promises

Seven years ago, we made promises. I dug through the lock box to find the orignal copies to share with you all (and reminisce myself). My phone conversation with dh was cut short (blasted phone lines over there!) before I got to say "I love you," so I consoled myself by reading over these.



He said:

I promise to love you always and for that love to grow stronger with every breath. I promise to never love you any less than I did the first time I looked in your eyes and said those three words. I promise to be all the very best things I can be: to comfort you when you’re sad, laugh with you when you’re happy, dance on my head when you’re bored. I promise to always be there for you, to give you my total love and devotion. I promise to be yours and only yours, forever and forever beyond that because my love for you is too strong to be held by time, space or any physical boundaries.

I, being the wordier one of the two of us, said:

I look at you and see so much. I see you and everything you are and can become. I see myself through your eyes. I see all the faith you have in me and I see how much you love me. In you, I see the future. I see a blessing I never believed I’d find. I see someone to dream with, clap for, and dance with.

I will love you always. You have become a part of my soul and you’ve filled my heart.

I will always believe in you. You are everything I ever needed. There are so many wonderful sides to you, kept hidden from most others. I will never be able to thank you enough for showing me those sides.

And so…if I promise to love you, can I keep you forever?

When Moms' Night Out turns into Moms' Night In (the ER that is).

Yesterday's drama is being dealt with. I don't know how much I want to say, but dh is having a really rough time of this deployment. We're dealing with that, though.

Submitted for your reading pleasure is even more drama completely unrelated to what I blogged about yesterday.

One of the parenting groups of which I'm a part had a last minute Moms' Night Out last night. Before that, though, I took some medicine for a headache. It's not anything I've ever taken before. At MNO, I start itching. I'm allergic to some other OTC meds, so I recognized right away that I was having an allergic reaction.

I didn't think much of it. I've never had a really serious reaction. I know the hives will go away in time. Then my lips started tingling and swelling. One of the other moms there is an RN. She got freaked by the lips thing. When my lips started blistering just minutes later and my face started swelling, she insisted we needed to go to the ER. And so we did. She wouldn't let me drive, so I rode with her and my sister drove my van.

I still wasn't panicked. I had no trouble breathing or swallowing. I would have preferred NOT to go to the ER, but hey, you never know. Better safe than sorry. And all those other such cliches. While there, the triage nurse put me to the front of the line. I still felt fine, though, but I started to think maybe this could be something serious.

When another nurse explained that he was giving me the IV in part so that they could get drugs into me quickly should my reaction continue to worsen, I got a bit scared. Why does this stuff always happen when dh is away? When I was alone, I found myself staring to the right side of my bed trying to will him into existence. Didn't work. We really need to do something about that.

In the end, I got a bunch of IV meds which made me feel like I was living on the Yellow Submarine. I swear I felt high. The lights were brighter and dancing and more...more...yellow (I guess that's the best way to explain it). I could feel the blood in my veins. I could feel my heartbeat throughout my whole body. And then I was very very cold. It was a very odd experience.

It's over, though. I'm fine. I got home around 11:30. I tried to keep from feeling sorry for myself by chanting silently, "I have fabulous friends." They watched The Boy while I was in there and brought him to me when he needed to nurse. They even helped me get him situated because the IV made my left arm pretty useless.

At one point, I started to feel sorry for myself, but I remembered that for the friend who had driven me there, this was her SECOND ER trip of the day. She was there earlier with her son when she feared he had broken his wrist. And then there she was with me. So hey, everyone has their own sagas with which to deal.

I feel bad for ruining Moms' Night Out. We only had an hour to sit and chat before this all started. Then again, hey, now we have a story to tell. :-)

*I started to accept the mess I'm in. I know that mess spelled backwards is 'ssem' and I felt much better armed with that information." Tori Amos

My life, or more precisely my emotions are a mess. It's a long odd story, but stuff is going on here (well, actually over there) that has me confused as hell.

I don't know what my next move will be. I don't know what it should be. I don't know if the situation even warrants a move at all.

I just know I'm left feeling hurt and miserable and I'm not getting any answers.

I'm sorry to be so cryptic, but I'm just not up for more details right now.

I'm confused and I'm very hurt.

Operation Cheer Up the Husband

We got home yesterday. There was drama, there was screaming, there were laughs, there were hugs, there were obligatory mouse ears, there was a plane that almost left without us. I'll write more about the trip later.

I have something far more important to deal with first, though.

I spoke to dh today. Things are not going well there. He's exhausted, run down, and he just has some real asshats around him. I really think we need to start a plan in motion to remind him that he really is appreciated. He needs to know there are people out here who like him, who think he's a great guy, who know he rocks, who think he has a cute butt... Um...wait...let's leave that last one to me.

I figure we can send him cards, letters, crafts, artwork, etc. If anyone wants to take part, e-mail me or leave a comment. I'm afraid I'm gonna have to limit this offer to only those I know personally. I'd be thrilled to find a random stranger in the audience wants to help, but for security reasons, I can't give out personal information, especially a military member's personal information.

Please let me know if you want to help.

And to you other kids all across the land,There's no need to argue. Parents just don't understand.

The parents come for a visit tomorrow. Then we all leave for Florida on Friday. Fear not, we return on the 20th. Then my parents are staying through the 25th. I'm actually really looking forward to it, but I'm dreading it as well.

Time will only tell if all of us will survive the visit. I adore my parents, but we also love the distance.

Lorelai Gilmore said it best on a recent episode of Gilmore Girls (I'm a dork, but I'm enamored with that show). She went on a rant about the 30 mile buffer between her and her parents. I'm paraphrasing, but this is the gist of her rant specifically about her mother,

That buffer is the only thing that keeps me from killing her. I get in the car with every intention of killing her, but 20 miles out, I see a mall or something and get sidetracked. Without that 30 mile buffer, I'll have Nancy Grace camped out on my front lawn.

Yeah, what she said. So let's hope we all survive this visit and come out the other side without physically maiming anyone. Is that too much to ask?

I'm planning on having a good time, though. It's not often I get to see the parents & they haven't seen the boy since he was a month old, so I can't wait for them to see what a cute sweet little chub-a-bub he has become. Plus the girls just adore them & they're so excited to see them again. So we'll hope for the best and take comfort in the fact that if there's conflict, then hey, I'll have something to blog about. :-)

When you wish upon a star...

sometimes your dreams get crushed to little teeny tiny pieces.

Remember how I asked you to wish me luck and/or sleep? Yeah, that didn't work out all that well.

I finished up checking my mail and was about to head for a nap. Girl1 came in and refused to leave. The girl was loud. The boy woke up. The mother cried.

The kidlets are all sleeping, so I'm gonna fold the last of the laundry, put another load on, then get my exhausted bum to bed.

'Night all. Last one out of the blog turn off the lights.

Second verse, same as the first, but a little bit louder and a little bit worse.

Day 4 in the coughing/not sleeping saga. Last night was the worst of all. I'm exhausted.

The boy is napping, so I'm gonna see if I can follow his lead. Wish me luck. Hell, forget luck. Wish me sleep!

Exhaustion

I am completely exhausted. The boy has been coughing for a few days. That means he hasn't been sleeping well at all plus he hasn't been nursing well. We went to the doctor and found out we're dealing with a slight upper-respiratory infection. Please let the prescription help because I can't take much more of this.

A day in my life isn't nearly as exciting as a night in the life of the infamous Reiza-Mara.
So here's a recap of my evening:

• 10pm: The Boy (who has been asleep in the swing) wakes up.
• 10pm-11pm: Take him to bed. Try (in vain) to get him to nurse in bed so we can both sleep. Sit up and after some fighting, get him to nurse and start to fall asleep, but every time he starts to doze off, he coughs like crazy and wakes himelf up. He finally falls asleep just after 11.
• 11:30/12 ish: Fall asleep.
• 2:30 am-3:30: The boy is up and crying. Struggle to get him to nurse, but he refuses LOUDLY. Test my gymnastic ability with a variety of contorted nursing positions until he finally nurses back to sleep.
• 4am: Fall asleep
• 4:30: The boy is up again. Give up on trying to get him to nurse and head down the hall to put him in the swing.
• 5ish: Fall asleep.
• 5:30: Swing batteries are dead. Boy is awake and screaming. Bring him back to bed where he finally falls asleep (without nursing).
• 6am: Fall asleep
• 6:20: Door bell rings. Don't get there quickly enough. Have no idea why they rang bell. Venture outside to check on cars to be certain they weren't ringing the bell to bring attention to a car door left open or smashed windshield.
  
• 6:20am-9pm: Can't fall back to sleep. Stay awake for the rest of the day.

The past three days have been like this. I swear I can't take much more.

Oy!

Summer move forward and stitch me the fabric of fall (aka 1 down, 5 to go)."*

One month down. YES!

At least five more to go. SONOFABITCH!

So far, though, not bad.

The rest of this month should fly by. We're going on vacation next week. My parents will be visiting for a while. Plus the girls have their dance recital.

Although, at the end of the month looms our wedding anniversary. This won't be the first time we're apart for it, but it's like going to the gynecologist--just because you've put your feet in those stirups and shimmied your stark-naked behind to the edge of the table countless times before, that doesn't make it any less awkward/annoying/horrifying.

Wait, I just compared my anniversary to a gyn visit. Well, that's not good! I didn't mean it that way. Hopefully you followed my train of logic. If not, look, that's me waving as I pass you by.

I hope the month goes quickly. I want the whole blasted summer (and the freaking 100 degree heat it felt compelled to send along ahead) to end quickly so we're closer to dh's homecoming. That's a huge deal for me. I LOVE the summer. Yet here I am urging it to pick up its toys and go home (nod to Kamrin 'cause I just used her line).

Today I hear from dh that right now, they're planning on coming home the beginning of December. Nothing's set in stone (I never trust military dates until dh is actually on the plane), but it's looking like they'll be there a bit later than expected. I know it's not a huge deal, but it's longer and then we run the risk of dh missing some more very important dates.

He's already missed so much. We miss him so much.

I've gotten very good at the day-in/day-out stuff. I know full-well that I don't "need," dh for any of that. But every time we're apart, I'm reminded just how much I WANT him as a part of my life. And I know equally well that feeling this way about him is something to be celebrated.

*Title is the opening line from Vienna Teng's "Drought."

Free time (or the complete lack-thereof)

Someone accused me of having too much free time. She was actually just a misguided soul who didn't realize that a mother of twins can get much more done in any period of time than one would expect.

Here's a quotation for your enjoyment. It's all mine:

"I don't get free time. This isn't free time. It's a busy time from which I ran screaming."

heartbroken

The stuffed animals dh sent arrived today. The girls really ticked me off today, though, so I decided not to give them the toys. I'd be shooting myself in the foot if I gave them toys when they misbehaved.

Well, then Girl2 woke up with a nightmare. So I took out the stuffed camel and brought it in her room. I asked her what it was and she said with a smile, "A camel." Then I asked who sent it for her and her whole face lit up like I haven't seen in I don't know how long. She whispered, "Daddy."

I had to leave the room quickly because I started to cry. I can't even find the words to write about it. All I know is my little girl misses her daddy. They both do. I try to help out with that, but I don't know if it makes much difference.

The Boy seems to have forgotten Daddy. I was surprised when dh came home from a short TDY (he was gone about 2 weeks) in April. When he picked up the Boy that night, he got so excited. The baby was so young that I didn't think he'd remember Daddy. By this point, though, it seems as though any memory the Boy had of dh is gone. I purposely put on the videos we have of dh with the kids the other day. The girls watched intently, but the Boy showed no recognition at all. That breaks my heart.

I don't know what to do with these kids. I try to keep the girls in touch with dh by having them write to him and draw pictures. I really want them to talk to dh when he calls, but lately, they've been refusing to speak to him. When they do "talk" to him, they just say, "Hi. Yes. Yes. I'm done. Bye." He tries to ask them more questions, but they don't answer. It's really breaking HIS heart that lately, whenever I ask if they want to speak to him, the answer is always, "No." If the Boy has forgotten, what is there for me to do? No amount of pictures or videos will help. They're just photographs of yet another stranger.

Dh is struggling over there. My kids are hurting over here. Days like today, I feel very helpless and alone.

Yanking the chain.

Dear world (or at least the idiots),

Don't hit "send." Please do not send that forward to 50-some-odd people. Before you do, head to snopes to check it out. Don't make your friends freak out about the missing Ashley Flores. Don't urge people to burn their Swiffer Wet Jets because it killed some non-existant dog. And oh my stars and garters, please don't forward on that stupid urban legend about the gangs and flashing headlights. And for the love of all that is good in the world (namely insanely expensive mocha frappacinos), don't tell your buddies that Starbucks doesn't support our troops.

I can't stand getting this crap. It takes 10 seconds to head to snopes, type in a key word or two, and chances are you'll find that the e-mail you're about to forward is completely and utterly false.

I hate misinformation. I hate it with a passion. I hate misinformation so much I'd like to beat it with a stick--a large one with spikes. So I think there's a special place in hell (well, I would if I believed in a hell) for those who pass misinformation off as fact (to EVERYONE in their address book).

Snopes is your friend. That far-fetched sounding e-mail about how G-d will hate you if you don't immediately forward it to 15 of your friends, however, is not.

I can feel the distance getting close.

I've been lucky enough to talk to dh a few times recently, much more often than I expected. Speaking to him is difficult though. Well, I suppose it's not the speaking part that's a problem (my mother only half-jokingly says that once I said my first word, I never stopped). Listening to him breaks my heart, though.

He's already exhausted. In his voice I hear the fatigue, the disillusionment, and the anger. Today he told me, "I'm already ready to be done with this place." That really breaks my heart because he hasn't even been there a month.

I want him to know that I love him. I want to make sure he knows I believe in him in hopes that it will help him believe in himself again. I want him to know there's an empty place here just waiting for him to jump in and fill. I hope that will help him pull through, but it seems like so little when compared to the seemingly unending days of drudgery he has ahead of him.

Don't drink and blog.

I had to resist the urge to blog last night. Yesterday that aforementioned friend came for a visit. Yes, she did come bearing alcohol. While not drunk, I was buzzed.

I had the urge to write (both to blog and to write a rambling love letter to my husband). Luckily, my urge to sleep won out. I know better.

Some years ago, I remember struggling in vain to keep a certain someone who will NOT remain nameless (Hi, Katie) from embarking on yet another drunk dial. I also remember insisting the ceiling was Hebrew (to a buzzed me, the popcorn ceiling looked like Hebrew text). But I wasn't calling anyone to share that news with them. Let's pause here so I can stick my tongue out at Katie.

And so I've learned not to do anything that will leave a lasting impression when I've been drinking. And that, my friends, is why I didn't hit the blog last night. There's no telling how many of you would have read it before I had a chance to pull down whatever stupid thing I had posted.

Raspberries and Rabbis

It's Shavuot. If you just read that and found yourself thoroughly confused, check this out: Shavuot.

One of the things we celebrate on Shavuot is the first fruits. Well, our shul took that theme and rolled with it. They asked that all babies born since last Shavuot be brought up to the bimah during services for a special blessing. And so I hauled us all out to services (which is not a small feat).

During the service, the boy kept blowing raspberries. This lead to many giggles from those around us. It was very cute, but I'm always worried what people think. I assume most people are familiar with normal child behavior, but I know many are not. I'm the first one to rush my kids out if they get even the slightest bit loud, but I know some folks can get annoyed at kids for just being kids.

The boy was absolutely fascinated by the rabbi. The running joke in our family is that TheBoy is the most Jewish-looking child we've ever seen. He really is. A friend has taken to calling him "Rabbi," and it fits.

I had to tell TheBoy, "If you're gonna be a rabbi, blowing raspberries during the service is probably NOT your best first step."

Welcome, June. Come in. Put up your feet. Is there anything I can get for you?

YES! May is over. A new month is here. That's one month closer to the day dh comes home.

Party on, Dude.

I swear, when that friend comes over with the beer tomorrow, I'm busting out the party hats to celebrate.

And the World's Best Dad award goes to...

my husband.

I got an e-mail from him today. He's buying a stuffed giraffe for Girl1 (she LOVES giraffes as does her mother) and a stuffed camel for Girl2. He's also buying a thumb drive to use with his laptop. That way, he'll make videos on his laptop, save them to that drive and e-mail them to me for the kids.

I'm reminded why the kids miss him so much (as do I of course).

Cute kids, big problems.

Girl2 is having some behavior problems as a result of this deployment. The last time dh was away, I don't think I went to the bathroom alone once the entire time. We dealt with some major separation anxiety.

This time, it's a whole new ballgame. We have a touch of separation anxiety, but Girl2 is having some major issues. It doesn't help that I'm the only one here to deal with it all (although if I wasn't the only one here, she probably wouldn't be having problems).

I don't even know where to start with her. The lovely military gives us access to family support, but you can only speak to a specialist WITHOUT your children present. Now how am I supposed to do that when we're dealing with separation issues? Ugh!

G-d bless my husband. I e-mailed him about her recent behavior issues (and titled the e-mail "WTF am I supposed to do with her?" which was followed a few hours later by "Now WTF am I supposed to do?"). He called today and told me he's been searching e-bay for a stuffed camel for her (she has an obsession with camels ever since Daddy left for the desert). He wants to order a stuffed animal just for her from Daddy so that she has that to cuddle and remind her that Daddy loves her. In case you wondered why I married my husband, that right there is part of it.

Until then, I'm just gonna try to pay more attention to her and give her extra hugs and kisses. Problem is her behavior makes me want to be nowhere near her.