When the going gets tough, the tough go shoe shopping (and then they dye their hair).

I have three new pairs of platform shoes. I ADORE platform shoes with a passion that frightens me.


Check out the three new jaw-dropping additions to my wardrobe. I adore them. This is my very favorite pair:







Yes, they really are as high as they appear. I LOVE them. I have yet to measure them, but I'm betting they're about 4 inches high. They're called "Sky-Hi" and it's oh so appropriate.

Last week, I wandered into a beauty supply store with the sister (never a good idea) and left with a red henna dye called "Fuzzy Navel" (think Claire Danes in My So Called Life). I wasn't thrilled with the spotty results (the color was pretty cool, but the dye didn't take well all over). So I figured screw it, I'll do something completely different.

And that is why my hair is now blue. Granted, it's blue/black, but still. I'm stealing the color swatch from the website, but it doesn't show up right. It's black under artificial light and blue in the sunlight. I like it. Plus it's SUPER shiny. I NEVER would have considered it, but the woman at the store the other day kept saying I had a dark enough complexion for it. Blink. Blink. Um...ah...me? Dark? I'm typically pretty pale. I'm naturally strawberry blonde if that tells you anything. I guess I'm tan enough right now, though. So I went for it.


It was the black that scared me off, not so much the blue. When I was stuck in high school, my hair went from orange to green, to yet another shade of green (which was supposed to be blue, but I was a blonde and so it turned green). I was all about the odd colors (yes, I was one of THOSE kids). For the past ten or so years, though, I've stuck with fairly normal colors (when I even bother to dye it).

When we saw the blue/black color at the store, though, my sister and I both "Oooohhhhed" over it. I said instantly, "Dh would hate that." To which my sister replied, "And that's why you need to do it...now...while he's gone." And so I have.

Here are photos, but since they were taken inside with a flash, you can't see the blue. You can, however, marvel at the shine.

Broken Toes, Fever, and Spots, Oh My!

I’ve had the week from hell. No amount of Hyland’s Nerve Tonic tablets are even taking off the edge. No amount of alcohol is taking off the edge. No amount of the two combined is taking off the edge (actually, combined they make me nauseated. Yes, I do know from experience. Why are you surprised? I'm not kidding about that week from hell thing).

Then it gets even “better.”

Yesterday, the Boy grabbed at a big heavy glass. He then dropped it. I moved him over and pushed it away. It didn’t hit him. It did, however, hit the middle toe on my left foot. It was dropped from about 4 feet up. I’m pretty sure he broke my toe. I couldn’t get a definitive answer from anyone on whether or not I should go to the ER. I decided it wasn’t worth the hassle and just taped it. I think he kinda chipped the top of the bone (between the nail and the top joint) and there’s really nothing the ER can do for that.

Girl2 was not being herself yesterday. She went down for a nap around 5 (she NEVER naps). She woke about an hour later screaming with a night terror (which she hasn’t had in the longest time). Even when I managed to wake her up, she still wouldn’t stop crying. I eventually convinced her to lie down on my bed. She fell asleep, but woke up screaming later. Oh and she also refused to eat any of her dinner. Both girls are Hoovers when it comes to food, so that was surprising. I realized she felt awfully warm, so I took her temperature. It was 103.6. A friend who’s a former RN was over. I asked her at what temperature I should consider the ER. She said 104. Happy freaking day!

I followed her suggestion and gave Girl2 some Tylenol, waited, and watched. An hour later, her fever was down to 101.6. So the friend left and I got ready for bed. As I crawled into bed, I noticed Girl2 felt hotter. Her temperature was 103.8. It was only an hour after I had taken her temp last. Called the sister and told her I was going to the ER. Sister left to come here and sit with the sleeping kids.

In the meantime, I called the doctor. He suggested watching Girl2 throughout the night and holding off on the ER. She felt a bit cooler, so I did. I sat there waiting for the sister (who I felt awful about having to send home after she schlepped all the way here) just holding Girl2, kissing her forehead repeatedly and apologizing that there was nothing I could do to make her feel better. Nothing brings out the motherly instincts like a sick child and nothing makes you feel more helpless. Wait, I take that back. Nothing makes you feel more helpless than a sick child AND a deployed spouse.

The boy spent the night in the swing. The girls stayed in my bed with me. I got nothing remotely resembling sleep. Girl2 woke up screaming 3 or 4 times. One time, she thrashed about and pulled my hair. I kept checking and she wasn’t all that warm, but I was kinda worried that she was hallucinating. Her temperature was 102.6 around 3 am. By 7, she felt cool to the touch and she said she felt all better.

I fully expect her to be covered in spots in a few days. I know from Girl1 that that’s the next step for this virus. The girls always like to match. This is a little extreme, though. Now we have to wait and see if the Boy and I get it. The spots look awful, so if I get it, I don’t know if I can leave the house. We already had the janitor at camp point to Girl1 and ask in horror, “What the hell’s wrong with her?” I don’t know that I could deal with the stares we’ll get if all 4 of us are spotted.

The gym is the only thing keeping me sane right now. I don’t know if they’ll take the kids if they’re all spotted even though the spots mean they’re no longer contagious. I don’t know if they’ll let me workout if I’m covered in spots. If I can’t work out, they’re going to have to slap on a straight jacket and lock me up. That is, if they’re willing to touch me with those spots.


G-d hates me.

I do not like my son much right now.

I went to bed at 11:11. The Boy woke up at 12:34. He would not go back to sleep. I gave up at 1:30 am and came out here to watch t.v./check my e-mail (of which there was none. Grrrr).

Total number of days during which I have gotten very little sleep: 4
Total hours of sleep I've had today: 1
Total number of hours I need to workout today even though I've had damn near no sleep: 2
Total number of people I'm going to bitch slap: every single one who gets in my way

I'm too tired to even cry at this point.

Analyzing the situation

I've been miserable about this stupid jealousy thing all day. What on earth is going on? I found myself close to tears three times while on the elliptical machine. I did a full hour of cardio to try to work my tension out, but no such luck. I found myself wishing for a kickboxing class to really channel the agression, but there were none to be had today.

The gym is not the best place to be left alone with your insecurities. When left to wander through unhappy thoughts, there's far too much damage to be done. You don't have anyone there to kick you in the pants and say, "Cut that the hell out."

I've recognized a few issues that are fueling this jealousy.

• #1. I have issues with my self-esteem. I was a skinny kid for a while, but all of a sudden, as puberty approached, I got chubby. Then I got outright fat. I got down to a healthier weight by the time I started high school (I hit puberty awfully early), but I have never been happy with my body.

• #2 (which is the first cousin of reason #1) I don't feel attractive at all. I'm too heavy. I feel a lot better about myself since I've been working out (and fitting into smaller clothes), but I'm still too heavy. I lost 30 lbs a few years back because I was disgusted by how heavy I was. I've been working out for nearly a month now and I'm still 3 lbs HEAVIER than I was when I was disgusted with myself last time. And yes, I understand muscle weighs more than fat and I know I'm getting leaner because I can see it, but I still weigh far too much.

• #3. I'm not getting much positive feedback. One of the sisters has said positive things and a friend said nice things about pictures from the recent weekend trip (Thanks, Kamrin), but nothing from dh at all and nothing from other friends. Yesterday, I shoved myself into the smallest of the clothes that now fit me. I went to a meeting with folks who haven't seen me since before I started working out. I hoped someone would say something about me looking thinner. No one (other than the sister) said a word. The part of this that bothers me the most is that dh has said nothing at all. I sent him pictures. I write about the gym. He doesn't say anything. I had to come out and ask him about pictures I sent and all he said was, "Yeah, I see a difference." I damn near begged him to say something in an e-mail last week, but I got nothing. I'm left wondering if the silence is because he doesn't find me attractive and he just doesn't want to hurt my feelings. I'm pretty sure that's not the case, but I have to wonder.

• #4. I feel badly that I need that feedback. I'm not sure how much #3 should be an issue. I feel badly because it's a huge problem--probably the reason most responsible for the jealousy. I know I should feel good about myself without having to have my ego stroked by outside sources and I think I would if I got even a tiny bit of it from dh. But I don't get that, so I find myself relying on it even more. I don't like to put the blame on others. I'm all for personal accountability. So I'm really torn on this. Part of me thinks I shouldn't blame my issues on what he does or doesn't do. If I don't feel attractive, that's my problem with which to deal. Another part of me thinks that he's my husband. I have every right to expect him to tell me if he thinks I look good. If I write damn near begging for a compliment, he should give one (unless, of course, he doesn't think one is deserved).

• #5. This one is the sister's observation. I haven't gotten much sleep at all lately. That does not lead to clear thinking. She may be on to something. Maybe that does have something to do with it. I'm so emotional all of a sudden. It almost feels like PMS, but it's not because I'm still cycle-free thanks to nursing (with no signs of an impending visit from Aunt Flo).

And to top this all off, when I came home from the gym today (in tears), I found a message from camp. Girl1 has fifths disease and is covered in spots. Oh and The Boy woke up far too soon from his nap which left me no time to crawl in bed and bawl.

Check, please. I'm done.

Someone pass the alcohol, FAST.

I am an idiot.

WTF is up with this? Jealousy just came up behind me and jumped me. This is completely and totally irrational. But I can't stop it.

Dh added someone to his friends list. She's 20 and she's cute.

Mind you, dh is the very last person in the world that I think would cheat. I don't know that he has it in him.

So why on earth am I struggling to keep the green-eyed monster subdued?

A song, a dilema, and some catching up (not necessarily in that order) all while I avoid folding laundry

First and foremost, I present a song. While at the gym yesterday a song came on that made me think of dh. I'm not a huge fan of pop music, but I'm not ashamed to admit when a little ditty gets stuck in my head. I had long since forgotten about this song, but when it came on, I knew I'd need to post it on the blog. Yes, I am posting a Michelle Branch song on my blog. Let the flaming begin.

"Everywhere"

Turn it inside out so I can see
The part of you that's drifting over me
And when I wake you're, you're never there
But when I sleep you're, you're everywhere
You're everywhere

Just tell me how I got this far
Just tell me why you're here and who you are
'Cause every time I look
You're never there
And every time I sleep
You're always there

'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
That makes me believe
I'm not alone
I'm not alone

I recognize the way you make me feel
It's hard to think that
You might not be real
I sense it now, the water's getting deep
I try to wash the pain away from me
Away from me

'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
That makes me believe
I'm not alone
I'm not alone

I am not alone

And when I touch your hand
It's then I understand
The beauty that's within
It's now that we begin
You always light my way
I hope there never comes a day
No matter where I go
I always feel you so

'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I close my eyes it's you I see
You're everything I know
That makes me believe
I'm not alone
'Cause you're everywhere to me
And when I catch my breath
It's you I breathe
You're everything I know
That makes me believe
I'm not alone

You're in everyone I see
So tell me
Do you see me?

As for the update, dh e-mailed and called yesterday. It was good.

In the moments where I really let myself sit down, take a break, and reach out and touch the lonliness, I realize just how much I miss him.

The dilema is awful news I got from someone I love. She opened up and told me about things that happened in the the past. It absolutely crushed me, so I don't know how it didn't do the same to her. I've been thinking about her and about things related to her pain all night and all day. I couldn't sleep last night for a number of reasons (writing to her, the girls kept waking up, then the boy woke up repeatedly, then Girl1 woke up AGAIN) and today was rather trying too. The reality of it all just bounces around in my head whenever I quiet down.

The up side is that now she has someone to talk to about it. I'm the first adult she has told and I have every intention of being there for her any way I can.

It was also a big smack in the face that forced me to remember how amazing dh is. I wrote to her about a bad situation I was headed towards before dh and I started dating. It's frightening to think about where I would be if he hadn't jumped into my life when he did. He cared enough to reach out when he saw things that concerned him. And that caring very well may have saved my life. It certainly saved my sanity and my soul. I often let the reality of it escape me, but last night, I was reminded just how lucky and blessed I really am.

It also reminded me of the huge responsibility we all have. For now, I'm not going to worry as much about saving the world. I'll focus on loving those around me instead. I think if we all did that, we really would save the world.

Your customized break up song

I heard this on the radio the other day. It cracked me up. So I must share.

You add a name (it has to be on the list, though) and then you pick two reasons to break up (from a drop-down menu).

I've heard cheap, ugly, and fat and they all had me gasping for breath because I was laughing so hard.

This is hysterical.

Da break up song

I lie awake every night. Thinking about you, I fantasize.

Title from Liz Phair's Fantasize.

No, not THAT kind. Although, I suppose they could turn into THAT kind of fantasies if I let them play long enough.

Yesterday at the gym, I tried to figure a way to help get me through my time on the treadmill. I decided to roll with a fantasy I always have whenever dh is gone for a long period of time. You see, I'm resourceful. I also know how to play the media game to my advantage. So I've always wondered what would happen if I could somehow get a pass (lately, I'm thinking as a journalist) and get my butt to dh. Although suddenly I find myself not wanting to give up the fantasy. I'm a Pisces, it's not unusual for me to get lost while I wander through my daydreams. I realize, though, that this one has the potential to be crushing. Dh isn't due home for about another 4 months. I don't want to wind up living in that fantasy full-time until then. It makes functioning in everyday life kind of difficult.

Let's not forget the emotional swings that come along with this. I can be giddy, excited and in dh's arms while I fantasize only to have to snap back to the harsh reality of no dh, screaming girls and The Boy splashing in the cat's water dish.

I'm missing dh something awful lately and I have yet to decide if wading through my fantasies is helping or hurting.

From the minds of 4-year-olds

I've had some odd conversations lately. I must share so you can all revel in the oddity.

• Today, while having dinner at a friend's church (we watched her kids in a super cute musical production of the story of Jonah followed by dinner), Girl1 handed me The Boy's doll and said, "Her name's Sharka because she eats sharks. She eats them for lunch every day." Girl1 later told me, "I'm her mom. The Boy is her dad." I explained, "That's illegal." So she asked, "Do we have a legal too?"

• The other night, I went in to check on the girls long after they fell asleep. While I was there, I heard Girl2 mutter, "I want to try." She occasionally talks in her sleep and sometimes, if you ask her a question while she's doing it, she'll answer you. So I asked, "What do you want to try?" She tossed a bit, but didn't answer. So I asked again. She said, "No, I DON'T want to try." Then she paused, wrapped her arms around the stuffed camel, and said, "But my camel wants to try. I hope he will wait, though." I still have no idea what he wanted to try, though.

Times like this, I hate being a military wife.

I just had Headline News on (I'm a military wife with a deployed husband. I live on Headline News). They briefly mentioned how a squadron from Alaska was scheduled to come home from Iraq this week, but they've been extended for another four months. I immediately burst into tears. Even writing about it now, I'm crying.

I just want to scream. I want to punch my fists through a wall and scream, "I hate this shit." I'm SO very mad, frustrated, disheartened, and saddened.

I'm a military wife. My husband has been extended while on a long deployment in the past. I understand how very frustrating it is for everyone involved. I also have huge issues with the political process and the politicians. Do you have any idea how difficult it is for the military members who don't believe in/agree with what we are doing over there? It's absolutely devestating. It crushes their souls. I know because I've dealt with the aftermath. Do you know what it does to the families who don't agree with the conflict? It kills us. It makes us more furious than we ever dreamed possible.

I'll stop now because I'm well aware that all my readers don't share my political views. I don't want to turn this into a debate. I just found myself suddenly in tears and I needed to vent this frustration.

Wherever we stand, we stand with Israel.

I had one hell of an emtional night.

I went to a program at shul. It was a performance by the Friends of Israel Scouts. It was basically a bunch of Israeli teens singing and dancing about Israel. We have two Israeli Scouts currently working at the day camp where the girls go. We also have an Israeli family that have lived in the States for 2 years (the father is an officer in the IDF and has been working with the military instilation here where dh works), but are going home soon. The two older children and the mother work for the camp. The younger daughter attends the camp. Their father is called on from time-to-time to do different things both for the camp and for the Jewish community.

Mind you, the female scout is from Haifa. The male scout's school has been destroyed by the bombings. The son from the famliy that's returning to Israel after 2 years will be joining the IDF soon. My heart aches to think about it.

Then, during the performance, the kids came out dressed all in white. One boy gave a speach, in broken English, about the three Israeli military members who have been kidnapped and how we all needed to join in the prayer for them.

When he said that, I really had to fight back tears. Maybe it's because my husband is military and that could easily have been him. Maybe it's because dh is a German Jew. Maybe it's because Girl1 was happily waving the Israeli flag at the time, completely oblivious to what's going on over there. I know it was in part because my son was asleep in the sling at the time. I looked down and kissed him on the forehead and offered up a silent prayer. "Ad-nai, please let the world be different for him."

I want that for all my children. I remember when the fighting started in Iraq. Watching the bombs lighting up the sky on the news, I looked down at my girls who were happily playing on the floor. Dh worked nights, so I was alone with them. The giggled and rolled back and forth while I burst into tears. I remember getting down on the floor with them wondering if we made a mistake by bringing them into this world. Later that week, I had professional pictures taken of the girls with dh in his uniform. There were rumors that he would be headed to Iraq and I wanted pictures just in case. JUST IN CASE? What kind of a world do we live in where we have to try to preserve the little things so our children have something to hold on to just in case their daddy never comes home?

In Judaism, we believe in Tikkun Olam--Repairing the World. We believe everyone has to do their part to put the world back together. Some believe that only when that happens will the messiah come. Others believe that the messiah is necessary to inspire us all to social action. Still others believe there will be no messiah. We alone are responsible for a better world and can achieve that only by striving for justice.

Regardless, I want this to be a better world for my children. I feel so useless. I feel so small. I'm only one person. What can I do to make a difference when there is so much war and hatred? At the same time, I have to try. Even if I can't do much, hopefully I'll inspire to my children to try. I'm only one person, but there are three of them. If we all go out into the world and try to do our own repairing, maybe others will follow our lead.

"For it is such a long time since my better days. I say my prayers nightly, this will pass away.

Title from 10,000 Maniacs Like the Weather

I started the day off feeling pretty blah. I was the posterchild for malaise. It came out of nowhere yesterday and it was hanging around. Now, though, it's more than that. I'm feeling pretty depressed. That's making me think about the things that bother me and so I'm stuck in the cycle.

I started off this morning thinking "I'd love to just stay in bed all day." With kindergarteners and a baby, though, that's just not possible. I had plans with the sister, but I considered just calling them off and hiding out at home all day. I was really looking forward to it, though. I figured getting out with her was probably the best thing for me. Part of those plans got cancelled, so I figured, "Screw this. I'm hiding out in bed." The girls were at camp and The Boy was asleep, so it was doable. Well, not long after that (before I got a chance to fall asleep), The Boy woke up. I was not a happy camper.

I wrote to dh about stuff. I'm pretty sure he won't write back. But when he doesn't, that's gonna crush me because I always write these deep emotional letters hoping maybe this time he'll respond. He very rarely ever does (and by "very rarely" I mean he has responded once the entire time he's been gone). Even then, it's was 2 or 3 lines which don't really deal with any of the issues raised. The short version of the long story is that I'm left feeling unnecessary, unattractive, and unloved. FTR, True Wife Confessions featured a confession of mine this past weekend. It deals with this topic. I opted to send dh a link. He hasn't responded. I really thought it would since by not responding, he's basically saying my suspicions are correct.

I so don't need this shit right now. Well, I never need/want it, but particularly not now.

I want to get out of the house. I want to do something to keep myself occupied. I want to meet up with friends and do something--anything, but I can't set myself up for more disappointment. I just can't take it.

There’s no place like home.

That's lucky for me because we had far more fun on our trip than we ever have at home. We had a blast! We went visiting, had drinks, donned glow-in-the-dark bracelets, and accidentially broke stuff all while cracking up. It was so much fun.

I'm back now (much to my dismay) and ready to dive head-first into the real world. I just wish someone would pass me a drink first.

We're going to Kentucky. We're going to the fair to see a seniorita with flowers in her hair.

We're going on a mini-vacation. No, we're not going to Kentucky. No, we're not going to the fair. I have no clue if there will be flower-clad senioritas, though.

The sister and I are taking a road trip to visit a friend. Woo hoo. Much fun will be had by all. We'll be back early Sunday evening. Before then, we'll have a girls' weekend (including the gaggle of children the girls have had). I can't tell you how happy this all makes me.

Side note: while packing, I decided to open the box o'warm weather clothes that I couldn't even get on. Every single pair of shorts fits. There are two that I won't wear in public and most of the others are pretty tight, but hey, I can put them on and button them and actually wear them. I'm so freaking excited about that.

So, fare thee well. Catcha later.

Multiple choice question

Wbat is this a picture of?

A. Bob Hope

B. Jeans that my sister passed back to me because she got too thin for them, but I damn near burst into tears after trying them on only to realize I couldn't shove myself into them

C. a piece from Pablo Picasso's "blue period."

D. A cat bed

E. Jeans that fit.







answers: C and E

The WTF mobile

I walked out of the house the other day and saw this little number. I actually said, "WTF" out loud.

Why? Please tell me why someone would do that?

Your favorite seller’s new items

I'm about to put the kids up on e-bay. 110 degree heat + whining + screaming + refusing to sleep = clumps of hair being torn from my head. There's a market for anything on eBay, so why not a pair of cute kids?

They started camp today. Yay! They get to play and learn new things, I get to nap. Well, I hit the gym first then came home and when The Boy napped, I did too. It was lovely.

When I went to get the girls, Girl1 wouldn't leave. She kept insisting it wasn't time to leave. We had to ask two counselors and she still wouldn't believe it. One counselor reminded her everyone would be back tomorrow. Didn't help. I had to literally drag her out (not an easy accomplishment with the baby in the sling and that whole 110 degree thing). One of her counselors is a friend's daughter, so she came running after me and helped carry Girl1 to the car. G-d bless nice kids. I love my friends if for no other reason, than just because of the fact that they have raised children who will NEVER be featured on My Super Sweet Sixteen.

We'll have a nice little routine down for the next three weeks. I'll drop them off at camp in the morning, then do my 1.5-2 hours at the gym, then play with the boy for a bit until he's ready for a nap. At that point, I'll join him and we can both catch up on some sleep. By the time we get up, it should be just about time to pick up the sisters.

Oh and here's my gym update: I've been going every day for 1-1.5 hours. I even got my sister to watch the kids yesterday so I could go (no child care on Sunday). I'm really excited about it. I can feel a difference and I'm starting to see a little bit (not really looking at myself, but I can now wear shorts that were too tight to wear in public last month). One happy side effect is that I'm too busy to eat the way I used to. So I'm not eating as much and I'm not going out much at all. According to the scales, I'm down 4 lbs from this time last week. Hip freaking hip hooray. :-)

The strangest thing (well, not as strange as the dog in the gym)

Today, when I got in the van, what graced my ears? I Got A Girl. Woah. That's really odd. I haven't heard that on the radio in a while. I don't know what prompted me to post about it last night (other than I've always hoped there was some way it was about me, but I've never confessed that and after reading through True Wife Confessions last night [see my links], I was in the mood to confess something--anything).

I just thought that was really strange. What an odd coincidence! Hmmm...maybe amid my search for direction in my life (or at least my career), I've missed my calling to be a psychic. Somehow, I doubt the ability to predict songs on the radio will be a very lucrative career.

I admit...

I always hoped this song was about me:

I Got A Girl

Tell me something I don't already know.

Your Quirk Factor: 69%

You're so quirky, it's hard for you to tell the difference between quirky and normal. No doubt about it, there's little about you that's "normal" or "average."

How Quirky Are You?

You see, there was this dog...

Today, at the gym, a woman was injured by a dog--a huge Pitbull German Shepard mix--IN THE GYM.

It was the strangest thing. This stray wandered in. The staff was doing a good job of getting him out, but when one personal trainer tried pushing him out the door, he turned and growled. She got scared (rightfully so, I'd say) and let go. He then turned around and ran towards the machines. Until that point, most of us were completely unaware that anything was amiss. That was about to change.

He ran up to the woman next to me on the leg press machine. He jumped in her lap. Let me repeat that, this huge dog (he came up to my chest) tried to jump in the woman's lap WHILE SHE WAS USING THE MACHINE. He wouldn't leave her alone. She was obviously injured, but nothing awful.

The staff then lured the dog out with a bowl of water. When I went to leave a few minutes later, I watched a woman walk in to the gym and actually hold the door for the dog. WTF? So there we were again. I was about to pick the kids up from the nursery, so I headed in there quickly to get away from that horse of a dog. Turns out Girl1 was in the bathroom across the hall. So I had to tell her to stay put.

They had no luck getting the dog out, so they let us go out a side door (I wasn't taking my kids past that thing. Hell, I didn't want to be near him. And oh yes, it was a him. Oh my word was it a him!). When I pulled away, the big beige monster was STILL standing there at the glass door.

That was certainly a WTF moment and a story to tell. I am now added to the privileged few who can count themselves lucky enough to have a "You see there was this dog," story. Only mine didn't involve cars or hospital visits. The same can't be said for everyone in this elite club.

Where to go from here?

When I was a kid, I knew exactly what I wanted to do when I grew up. I had specific plans and everything. Sure I wanted to do different things at different stages, but at each of those times, I knew exactly what I wanted to become.

So why am I now sitting here, very much the adult with a degree and letters after my name, but I don't know what I want to do with my life?

I've been out of the official working world for a few years now. Even then, I don't want to go back to an office. I'm not an office person. I'm a Pisces. You can't box in a Pisces. We need room to create. True, I worked for a non-profit which goes right along with that whole helping others thing that's indicative of Pisces, but it's just not where I want to stay for the rest of my life.

No acting for me (I was originally a Drama/English major). Well, being short is partly responsible for ruling that one out. I could have continued on to the theatre, though, but I didn't. My only connection to that life now are the ghosts of characters past that still haunt the stage. That and the ability to randomly recite lines from plays/musicals in which I performed many moons ago. It's a nifty parlor trick. :-)

I can still write. Heck, I'm doing that right now. Aside from blogging (which I picked up again in part to keep me writing), I've written articles and essays on all sorts of things. Some have been published. But I don't do that as a career. I still hope to, but I just don't have the time and effort to put into that right now.

Over the past year, I've considered going down a very different path. I don't dare speak its name because honestly, it terrifies me. It's not something I ever considered doing until I was forced to walk through a nightmare. I'm still not completely awake, but I've been far more lucid these past months. There was a point when everywhere I looked reminded me of what I lost. In all honesty, I haven't even much thought about the ordeal in quite some time, though. Maybe that's only because we've been so busy. Then again, if we let our worlds start moving again to the point where there's enough chaos and kisses to cover up the bitterness, maybe that IS working through things.

Another reason I keep quiet is because I worry. I worry I'm too old to start over. I worry that my interest is only fueled now because I'm still so close to the event. Is this something I'll want to do in a year? 10 years? I worry that I'm not the right person for the job. It requires so much. I don't know that I have all the traits necessary. Those around me who do the job are just phenomenal--some of the most amazing people I've ever met. A huge part of me thinks, "I could never be as strong/patient/calm/(insert happy adjective here) as they are." Then another part of me beats that part up because you never know if you don't try. I just don't know if I have the strength, effort, or time to try. I just don't know if it's something for which I'm suited.

FYI, I decided to search for jobs based on my astrological sign. No, I'm not ruled by Astrology, I just find it interesting. It's particularly interesting that I am such a classic Pisces. My husband, however, doesn't fit his sign AT ALL. I'm pretty sure his mother has lied to him about his birthday all these years.

We have this site which I found very informative (and pretty accurate): Astrology Zone. Note that according to the link, Pisces is the most common sign among millionaires. Not out to be a millionaire, but I found that interesting.

Here's another link Pisces Workers.

• Consumed with their pursuits, Pisceans tend to feel things more intensely than most, a quality which is aided by their keen intuition. Sometimes this can be a bit overwhelming, but the idealistic Fish wouldn't have it any other way. Serving and helping others is their raison d'etre, and they enjoy sharing their empathetic tendencies along the way. Pisceans tend to be artistically blessed as well and enjoy using the world as their muse.
• A desire to assist both artistic and humanitarian causes is exactly what the Fish crave. Advocating for the National Endowment for the Arts while extolling the virtues of anti-land mine campaigns would be a dream life for many a Pisces. If they could play their guitar or recite poetry at rallies, even better. The Achilles heel of Pisceans may be their tendency to dally in a dream state much too long. A reality check every now and again can be helpful.

Um...Yeah.

And I found this on a few different sites:

• Pisces ( Feb. 19-March 20) Pisces are generous, friendly, sensitive, popular, artistic, versatile, compassionate and spiritual. You will do well in any of the arts: drama, literature, painting, music, but your compassion also makes you well-suited for philanthropy and judicial positions.

So what does that mean for me? I'm not going to plan my future based on what my horoscope suggests, but I was kinda hoping this would give me a kick in the butt. Aside from the judicial position thing, I could see myself doing any one of those. Yet this magical mystical kinda/sorta/maybe/not quite/"He who must not be named" career isn't listed.

AHHHHHHHH. Now what? Does any of those say Pisces are indecisive? Because yeah, that's how I'm feeling right about now.

Hey, I've got a baby and a deployed husband. So for the time being, I don't have to make any definitive plans. I just wish I had a clue about where I'm supposed to go from here.

milestones: more bitter than sweet

The Boy has yet another tooth and one more that I expect to pop in for a visit within the next week.

This newest development leaves me conflicted.

I'm thrilled to see the changes in him, but I want him to cut that out. It's so exciting to see him change into such a little boy. Watching a full-term baby hit those milestones on time is really neat. You actually get to enjoy it rather than freaking out because everything is happening so late (and because some professionals mistakenly labels your premies as "signifigantly delayed" when they're not). But dh's only exposure to these new milestones is through photographs. He has never really seen these new teeth. It's never dh's fingers The Boy gnaws on. By the time dh gets home, The Boy will probably have a mouth full of teeth. He's getting pretty close to that now. So dh won't get to celebrate the appearance of each new tooth with us. I suspect that for him, it's not a celebration, but rather a sad reminder of everything he's missing.

The Boy said his first word. Dh never heard it. The Boy is learning to do so many new things, but never with his daddy holding his hand. That breaks my heart. I'm loving The Boy at this age. He's so sweet and cuddly. Dh will never know him like this.

On the phone last week, dh asked, "Is he doing anything yet? When I left, he wasn't doing anything." There is so much that the baby's doing now. There are so many little thing I take for granted. They're so mundane for me, I see them every day. They're so foreign to dh because he has never seen them. I know there are many more milestones that we can all share when we're all together, but that doesn't change the fact that there are so many passing dh by.

I just keep whispering to The Boy, "Don't walk. Don't walk. Don't walk." Please let that be one milestone you save until your daddy gets home. Give the poor guy something.

The feeling stays with me still.

The Boy decided to wake up a bunch during the night and to refuse to go back to sleep when he woke up at the buttcrack of dawn. Pardon me while I growl.

At one point, when I was still delusional enough to think he'd fall back asleep in the swing, I lie in bed with my arm out to the side. I got to thinking about missing dh and I realized I was in the same position I wanted so desperately to hold tightly to just a few hours before dh deployed. Moving my hand along the sheets where dh once slept, I felt the lonliness like a weight in my chest.

A few months ago, I was in that exact same pose as I touched him, felt his warmth, watched the rise and fall with each breath. Now I'm alone.

I suspect fear is a part of why I've been feeling the lonliness so acutely as of late. With all the talk of civil war in Iraq , the bombings in India, the potential for nuclear war with North Korea and Iran (which is very near dh), I think a part of my subconscious is absolutely terrified. My conscious side tries to stay rational, but you can't help the fear from creeping in. Something I've always secretly done is purposely listen to dh's heartbeat when I rest my head on his chest. Ever since we were dating, I did it with the knowledge that some day, that sound will cease to exist.

There's beauty in the breakdown.

Title from Frou Frou's "Let Go" on the Garden State soundtrack.

This evening was actually lovely. The kids were wonderfully behaved. We went to the movie for library night. I still had the blanket from the 4th of July in the van, so we were able to spread that out and lay down. The Boy not only let us watch, but was in fine form. He laughed and smiled through the whole thing.

We saw Brother Bear which wasn't a top pick for me, but it's what they were showing. It wasn't awful. At one point, there's a song and dance about family. I had the girls snuggling against me and The Boy happily babbling away in front of me. Girl2 kept coming over to give him hugs and kisses and she didn't complain when he yanked at her hair.

Then we got in the van, started driving, and I broke down. I'm talking tears streaming down my face blubbering like an idiot break down.

You see, last night, I couldn't sleep and started thinking about dh. I realized I miss being touched and held. I miss his hands. I miss his arms. I've said for years that my favorite place in the world to be is in his arms. I miss that like crazy.

Then on the way home, I just got to thinking about it all. I think I've done a pretty good job of keeping life moving along in his absence. This deployment definitely seems easier to me than any of the ones in the past. Although, this evening, the gaping emptiness where he once was just snuck up on me and punched me in the face.

I so wished I could call him just to tell him through my tears, "I miss you, Babe."

Dear morons at Wal-Mart

Yes I shop at Wal-Mart. Yes, I know a bunch of my friends boycott the place. Yeah, I see where they're coming from, but my sanity is more important than lofty ideals right now and being able to get all that stuff in one place helps keep me something that remotely resembles sane (at least to the outside world).

Here's a post I've wanted to write since our shopping trip yesterday.

Dear Lady at Wal-Mart,

Yes, you with the double seater cart and one single child--one single child who was about 6 or 7--more than old enough to walk alongside the cart. You suck! Do you see me standing here with my three kids including the 4-year-old twins who are constantly in the middle of the aisle, getting left behind because something catches their eye (Ohhh, shiny), and grabbing at the glass bottles on the shelves? Do you hear me cursing you out under my breath because I needed one of those carts and there were none to be found?

I wonder if you have one of those nifty yellow "I support our troops" magnets on your car because you know what, by taking that cart, you have made my life far more difficult. I have no choice. My husband is deployed. I must bring all three children food shopping with me. So by taking that cart, you are very much NOT supporting our troops. Next time, instead of slapping a magnet on your car, trying being courteous. Nearly every military wife I know has at least two children 5 and under. We need those carts.

Dear cowboy-hat-wearing-PITA who wouldn't move your cart,

You suck too. Do you have anything that remotely resembles common sense? You put your cart SIDEWAYS so that it took up nearly the entire aisle. Then you stood by the handle and your kids both stood at the front of the cart--thereby making it ABSOLUTELY IMPOSSIBLE for anyone to get by. So when my son was screaming, I was holding him, awkwardly using only one hand to maneuver the cart (since the other hand was holding the child), and I wanted desperately to quickly get through the store, I had to stand there and say excuse me TWICE before your kids would move. You never even looked up. I HATE YOU.

Dear elderly couple who insisted on blocking the bread aisle,

Normally you'd get a "Get out of jail free" card because you're elderly. You weren't just old, though, you were stupid too. So all free passes are out the window. You never did move to let me through. That meant I had to leave my kids with my cart (since you wouldn't move your cart at all to make room), carrying the screaming child, and step sideways past your cart to get down the aisle. So when I have to do the same contortionist act to get back through while carrying bread, don't look at me like I'm on crack. I am not on crack. You're just obnoxious and inconsiderate.

Dear the buyers/stock boys at Wal-Mart,

Where is my spicy popcorn? Why was it not on the shelves? If it was simply out of stock, then shame on you. I adore that popcorn. If you have stopped ordering it, then you suck. If the company has stopped making it, then they can go to hell (as I'm sure they will because I believe G-d will find that to be an abomination). I want my popcorn, damn it!

Dear my children,

What part of "stay to the side," do you not understand? Why must you dance in the center of the aisles? Why must you grab at the glass jars? Why do you pitch a fit when I won't buy you chocolate cookies? I have NEVER bought you chocolate cookies, so where the hell is this coming from? Cut that out. It's driving me insane.

And why, oh why must you go to the bathroom EVERY SINGLE TIME we go to Wal-Mart? Why is their bathroom so much more appealing to you than ours? Why can't you pee before we leave the house and then suck it up for the hour I must shop?

That is all (for now at least. We'll go food shopping again this week and I'm sure I'll have more to rant about then).

Now pardon me while I bash my head against the wall.

To my sister on what would have been her 7th anniversary.

First and foremost, know you are very loved. You are not alone no matter how you may feel.

I can never know how you're feeling today, but I understand that you're in mourning. Don't let anyone try to force you to "snap out of it." Your life has changed. Your home is gone. A relationship is gone. A friend is gone. The life you once lived is dead. By all means, mourn that loss.

If you need a shoulder, an ear, or a hug, I'll be here for that.

Just please remember that this feeling of loss isn't forever. Don't let the mourning overtake you. Know that there are plenty of people who love you. Your life is not over. You're moving through one phase of it, but remember there are many more to come.

I know that because I know you. I know you are stronger than you may realize.

Things have happened that I can't agree with. You know that. But that doesn't change the fact that I'll be here for you when you need me. I will not judge you. I am NOT mom. When you need me, I'll be here for you. This is your life. You need to find the path that YOU want. That doesn't mean that I won't occasionally tell you, "Dude, cut that the hell out," but I mean that in a loving way. :-)

I'm sorry you have to feel all these things and take this walk. I'm even more sorry you have to do it alone. The rest of us can't go with you, but we'll be here cheering from the sidelines when you need us (and occasionally even when you don't).

I love ya.

Him Gym. Gym is after him.

Yeah, I tweaked a line from Dr. Seuss' _Hop On Pop_. I thought it was clever. I may be alone, though.

Tomorrow is gym day.

Pardon me while I slap my hands against my cheek and make my best McCauley Culkin face.
AHHHHHHHHHH

• Am I excited? Yep. Tomorrow is the first day of the rest of my life (nods to S.).
• Am I ready? Absolutely. I've been ready to lose the weight for months now.
• Am I prepared? Gym clothes? Check. Sneakers? Check (somewhere around here). Cool Fragle Rock socks? Check. Thanks to the same S. I nodded at a minute again.
• Am I terrified? Hell yeah!
  

Tomorrow. Tomorrow. I love ya tomorrow...

Oh man. I LOVED Annie with a passion that frightened my parents. I still love that movie. I own an old VHS copy that I've watched with the girls.

FYI, Aileen Quinn (Annie) hasn't worked in movies since doing voiceovers in the late 80's, but she's listed as a cast member in 30 which is in postproduction.

Anyway, tomorrow will be another dreaded food shopping trip. Oh boy!

I joined a gym today. Yay me! They don't have childcare on Sunday, so I'll start on Monday. Tomorrow will be the last day before the first day of the rest of my life. :-)

I'm really looking forward to going, but I'm scared too. I need to lose the rest of the baby weight. It's driving me insane. The prospect of being at a more reasonable weight is just lovely. I've never joined a gym before, though. I'm nervous about working out in front of everyone. Plus I'm not always the most independant person. It comes in fits and spurts, but overall, I'm secretly timid. Some people who know me are shocked by that. Those who have lived with me, though, know that I don't even like to call to order Chinese food.

So I'm afraid I'll be too timid to try some of the equipment. Will I be too scared to take the yoga class or head towards the pool? Luckily a personal trainer is included with the cost and she's there all day every day. They start you off with a routine and every 30 days, they look at your results and make necessary changes. That helps.

Still, I'm nervous.

The Daily Show clip mentioned in my last entry

Juliet Eilperin

Hopefully this will work this time.

Things that make you go, "AHHHHHHHHH."

Thanks to Windyridge, I read this infuriating entry. Has This Country Gone Completely Insane?

I screamed. I shook my head in disbelief. I sent a link to my husband.

The Daily Show re-aired an older episode last week. I missed it the first time around, but caught it this time. Jon Stewart's guest was Juliet Eilperin, author of Fight Club Politics: How Partisanship Is Poisoning the House of Representatives.

I laughed at the end of their conversation, but I think crying may have been a more appropriate response.

Stewart: So you covering [politics] for 12 years... corrosive to the soul?

Eilperin: Yes. In fact I became so depressed doing it that I focused more on the environment, things like whaling in the North Western Hawaiian Islands, that you did earlier.

Stewart: So you choose to focus on the raping and pillaging of the environment rather than cover politics because...

Eilperin: I find it less depressing.

My thanks are extended to Loaded Mouth because I found the exact text and video there.

A note to my children.

Okay, now you're even. Enough already.

Girl1 wound up in the ER a few months ago because she managed to get into the essential oils a friend gave me for labor and SOMEONE (aka Girl2) lied to us about her drinking them. Now Girl2 has had her very own ER adventure. Now you're even.

Stop it!

That is all.

Love,
Your mother

who will be blogging from a mental institution if you don't give me a freaking break.

Tacky

I can't be the only one who finds this more than a little tacky.

We saw it last year at the 4th of July fest and then I saw it again this year. I was thrilled to find that the friend I was there with felt the same way.

What on earth are people thinking? Are they thinking at all? I wish I could have been at the meeting where they pitched that idea...

so that I could have hit them all repeatedly.

A friend said this made her think of me.

Click the picture to see it full-sized.

Zits

Shopping / (4-year-old twins + baby - deployed husband) = dreaded chaos

I'm out of milk--well, cow's milk at least (have to clearify that since I am lactating after all). Initially, I find this mildly annoying. I can't eat my Special K without milk.

Then the significance of this lack of creamy dairy goodness sets in. This means we'll have to go food shopping. FOOD SHOPPING? Oh hell!

I thought trips to the store were impossible the last time dh deployed. It was a huge hassle that I avoided at any cost. Finding those double seater carts was nearly impossible because there are only 4 of them at any given store and people who don't have two kids (or in some cases ANY KIDS) grab them because the seats give you more storage space when they're not filled by the bums of 2 children. If I grabbed a regular one and put one child in the seat and one in the back, then not only do you have very little room for groceries, but anything you put back there will become a snack for the back child when you're not looking (I can't tell you how many half empty heads of broccoli I paid for). Plus the girls potty trained at 22 months. That gave me THREE MONTHS of having to leave my cart, scoop up both girls, and run to the bathroom (and I do mean run) only to get back and have the other child (who INSISTED she didn't have to go when we were in there 10 seconds before) insist she needs to go "RIGHT NOW."

I burst into tears the first time I went food shopping in dh's absence during his last deployment. I finally got my shopping done amid the screams of two tired toddlers only to find I left THREE BAGS at the store.

On another occasion, when no double carts could be found, but we needed food in a bad way, I pushed the double stroller in front of me with one hand and pulled a shopping cart behind me with the other. While cursing under my breath and trying to blow my hair out of my face (remember, one hand on the cart + one hand on the stroller = no free hands), a man stopped me to say he wished he had brought his camera. I assured him that it wasn't physically possible for me to be more thrilled about his inability to capture that moment forever.

Now we have added to our collection of children. The magic number 2 has been replaced with 3. Three--THREE smiling/screaming faces (said in my best Sesame Street Count voice). That means six pairs of hands to grab at thing.

Although, I must say, grocery shopping isn't nearly as dramatic as it was last time around. The girls are older, so that's a lot easier to deal with. Sure there's a baby added to the mix, but it's only one baby and he's a pretty easy-going baby. On the occasions when he's not so easy-going, putting him in the sling usually takes care of that by either calming him or lulling him to sleep. Last time around, I went food shopping once a month because it was such a dreaded endeavor. The cabinets got pretty scarce and I had to get awfully creative with meals since there wasn't much from which to choose. This time, I typically go once a week.

It's not the fiasco it once was, but it's still trying. When dh was home, we would go food shopping on Sunday mornings while the girls were in Sunday school. The Boy would fall asleep in the sling while we shopped. Thus making it relatively easy to get what we needed. Plus there were two of us--two minds to remember what we needed, four arms to reach for things (including two of them that belonged to someone of average height so he could reach the high shelves and therefore not require the owner of the shorter arms to actually scale mount Wal-Mart in an attempt to reach the top shelf), and two pairs of eyes to watch the lone child in case he should get into anything. I was able to go shopping with just the boy while the girls were in class for a little while, but Sunday school ended for the summer shortly after dh left. So now I have all three kidlets along for the ride every...single...time I need to go to the store. Thus making even a simple trip an ordeal (It takes me 5-10 minutes just to get them all in the van and in their car seats much less getting them all out of the car and into the store).

And so, at some point today (unless I can create any sort of excuse to procrastinate), I'm going to have to haul my bum (and that of 3 smaller people) to the chaos that is the store. In Judaism, we have blessings for all sorts of things. There are blessings before eating a meal, blessings you say upon seeing a rainbow, blessings to say when you wake up, blessings you say before going to bed, etc. I need a blessing to say before leaving on a food shopping excursion with three children.

Although, upon arriving home (hopefully with all my bags in tow), recitation of the Sheheyanu is appropriate. :-)

Here's the translation:
Blessed are You O L-rd Our G-d Ruler of the Universe who has kept us alive, sustained us, and allowed us to reach this day.

If I should ever return home from a shopping excursion in which all the children behaved, we got everything on our list, I was able to reach all of those things without having to find something to climb on, we were done quickly, and we didn't have to make a bathroom/diaper changing stop, not only will I chant the Shehayanu, I will choreograph a whole little dance to go along with it. I'll teach the kids said dance routine too. I'll take pictures of the Sheheyanu-a-palooza. And then I'll scrap it too. It'll probably be at that point that I wake up because that could only happen IN MY DREAMS.

Experience of a Jewish U.S. Soldier in Saudi Arabia

I just read this article and I'm fighting back tears.

Experience of a Jewish U.S. Soldier in Saudi Arabia

True Wife Confessions

I came across this site today and instantly fell in love.

Some of these are heartbreaking, but a good deal of them are absolutely hysterical.

True Wife Confessions

It's a place that gives women the chance to say things they otherwise might not.

And please note that no, I have never submitted one.

Here are my favorites thus far:

• Confession #081

I hate that I'm always the one to get up in the middle of the night to see what the dogs are barking at. It's dark out there and we don't have any neighbors to jump in to save me while you're snoring away. You're the one with the fancy new hunting rifle and super-duper hunting skills, and I'm the one with the MagLite flashlight.
Who would you rather have protecting us in the dead of the night?

• Confession #094

I purposefully waited until your butt touched the chair before asking you to get me something to drink because you seem to do it to me all the time. Didn't like it very much did ya?

• Confession #096

If you text me again asking me to transfer money to your account so you can
buy shit for yourself, I will throw away your cell phone.

• Confession #100

I resent paying for Head and Shoulders shampoo so much that I have been
buying generic shampoo and putting it into the same Head and Shoulders
bottle for over two years. Honey, you're bald and you don't need shampoo
anymore. You especially don't need one that controls dandruff. You have
more hair on your ass than you do on your head and you use soap on your ass.
Enough already!

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.