Deployment Journal - Day #109

Today was a rough day.  Possibly because last night, we got absolutely zero sleep.  Tough times, with a little one.  Plus, I've been extra lonely lately.

 

However, I got my hair trimmed today, and I expected that to lift my morale.  And Halloween was tonight, so I wagered that handing out candy and watching cute kids in costumes would help our evening pass, and cheer us.

 

And it might have, if not for my dwindling tolerance for insensitive comments and passive-aggressive bragging.  Seems everyone I met today offered one, or both.

 

Maddening, when you really needed sympathy.

 

It's entirely possible that the problem is me.  Admittedly, I can easily feel that someone is hinting at their superiority, when they're not.  (At least, I think they're not.  Who can really prove these things...)  And it's always annoying when it seems like someone is bragging about their amazing life, even at points when you feel quite confident in your own accomplishments.

 

So, it's really annoying when they flaunt smugly, and you don't feel so impressive right about then.

 

* * *

 

Tonight, an encounter from last week was my comfort.  One of my old friends now has a young toddler, and also a foster child of the same age.  She's involved in half a dozen impressive pursuits on the side, and keeps her house clean and her husband fed and seems so utterly poised, to me.

I called her, several days ago.  We talked briefly, while she supervised her little ones on the playground - then she had to go; they needed her full attention.  But before that point, I asked, "How do you manage?"  She chuckled wearily, "I cry, many days." 

 

I didn't expect that answer.  She's the epitome of tidy, structured, calm competence.  She controls her emotions better than most of us women, and disciplines her thoughts consistently.  I've never known anyone more clear-headed, and mature-acting.

 

But, bless her for answering simply and truthfully.  Those four words were unbelievably freeing. 

If SHE cries... then it must be ok for me to cry, too. 

 

Evidently, life's heaviness isn't always tied to how willingly or ably we bear it.  Sometimes, it's just that heavy.

Deployment Journal - Day #108

Today, we abandoned our regular plans and bought - impulsively - 61 bulbs.  Three were obvious duds.  So, we planted 58 of them - tulips, irises, freesias, crocuses across eleven individual pots, and one corner of my freshly raked garden box

And it felt so good.  The relief I'd felt, being "done" with gardening a few weeks ago was replaced with the instant joy of hard, gratifying, physical labor - plus, the anticipation of what beauty will appear in six or so months.

This must be a little what it feels like when you didn't think you wanted to get pregnant yet, but somehow are inexplicably gleeful, 24 hours after an unexpectedly positive test result...

 

 

Deployment Journal - Day #107

 

Took this photo about two hours after sunrise, when the fog was starting to clear.  It made for a magical morning.  We sipped hot drinks and looked out the windows wonderingly. 

 

Little Daughter couldn't understand the strange, white light, but she liked it.  She has good taste.

32 Degrees at 11:00 a.m.

 

Christmas is coming,

The goose is getting fat,

Please put a penny in the old man's hat...

Deployment Journal - Day #105

 

 

And cheery blessings continue.  Neighbors spontaneously brought me Potato/Cheddar/Ham Soup and Singaporean green cake.  Food cooked by others tastes amazing.

 

God must be telling people what I'm not.  Thank You, God.

 

In other news, Hulu now only gives me advertisements for sleep aids.  It must know.  I'm a little bitter.

Deployment Journal - Day #104

I got a box from Husband today.  In the mail.  From thousands of miles away.

It is the ultimate gift package:  Coconut M&M's, a book full of truth, a Yoga DVD, and a yet-to-be-opened birthday present. 

... You cannot tell me he is not the best in the world.

Deployment Journal - Day #103

In honor of yesterday's meltdown, I'm trying an experiment:  I'm not keeping a To-Do list for a whole seven days. 

(That's my kind of bucket list item, right there.) 

I'm going to see what happens.  I'm going to watch and observe if my productivity truly drops... or if, maybe, my blood pressure just stabilizes.  We shall see.  Wish me luck.  The whole process may be stressful.

Today is actually going well so far.  I appear to be a conscientious person who, even without a list, generally keeps doing things, as I see they need doing.  Without half the panic, I accidentally did several items that (formerly) were on my To-Do List, and realized it afterwards.  Huh.

Also, I watched an hour of Hulu.  Just for fun.  I even sat on the couch and didn't multitask while watching it. 

I felt myself eeking towards humanness.

Deployment Journal - Days #99-102

Some days, it's just harder. All the other wives tell you this, but the really-hard days still startle me.

I've generally been handling this deployment fine.  Whenever kind people ask, "How are you doing?" I tell them, "I feel like I'm coping ok - I miss him a lot, but I'm functioning fine and not feeling depressed."  I say it all frankly, since I know that's what they're fishing for anyhow.

But, in the last 72 hours, I've slithered into self-pity.  It all started with an encouraging conversation at church with a guest speaker.  She was the friendliest young mother (and military widow) ever, so my polite "I enjoyed your talk" handshake turned into chatter like we were lifelong girlfriends.  Midway through the military-life-relating, the topic of "Do your kids stop sleeping when he's gone, too?!" came up, and we were soon after swapping sleep-training tips. I admitted that it had been almost a month since I slept longer than 1-3 hours, and it wasn't because I was afraid to let her cry - it was because, well, even if/when I'm letting her cry, I'M STILL AWAKE, hello!

"You poor thing," she sympathized, "Why don't you have your mother-in-law or a girlfriend come over for a few nights?  You go sleep somewhere else, or put in earplugs, and let them make sure she's ok.  After a few nights, she'll be sleeping solidly again!" 

This struck me as a brilliant idea, until I got in the car and it dawned on me: I don't HAVE any relatives to ask.  Nor friends like that.  I don't have any local girlfriends or church ladies who I'd feel comfortable asking for such a miserable favor.  And how do you ask for a favor not being offered?  Sure people often say, "Let me know if I can help!' but I don't think they mean, "Suuuure, I'd love to stay awake for 72 hours with you!"

Or maybe they do.  I'm bad at asking for favors.  But in any case, at that moment in my car, I was quite sure I was optionless.
 
Then, I phoned my mom.  In the midst of our conversation, she hollered at my sister "Ask Dad to pick up an onion for me - and remind him that [other brother] is borrowing the car this week!"  And I sank further.  I had been trying for two months to finagle a way to get our car into the shop for maintenance, but I could never figure out a way to transport Baby and I back home, or how to manage her eat/play/sleep schedule while they worked on it for hours.  So there it was, still on my To-Do List, annoying me.  If only someone would help ME.

* * *

Sadness Jealousy settled into my heart.  Everyone has it easier than I do!  If only I had a husband who could pick up onions, or a family member to loan me a spare vehicle, or someone to help with Baby...! 

This devolved swiftly into a hyperawareness of my overall burdens.  Of all the extra things I do, which most many some couples divide and conquer.  I have to budget.  Pay the bills.  Take care of our yard.  Prune the trees.  Pull the weeds.  Sort the trash.  Maintain  and repair and wash our vehicles.  Re-glue the broken phone.  Remember to unscrew the hose from the spout, before it freezes.  Hand-shovel my garden, despite my injured back.  Replace that lightbulb.  Refill the gas tank.  Call the bank.  Again.  Contact the computer guy.  Mail that check.  Fax the other papeprwork.  Put new batteries in her toys.  Place the co-op order.  Juice the box of oranges, before they rot.  Change the air filter.  Clean out that dang bathtub drain again.  Get someone to fix the roof before we lose more shingles...

I didn't realize I was so overwhelmed until my brain started ranting.  Half these things weren't even written on my current To-Do List, which made me panic more.

... I do all our cleaning, all our shopping.  Buy all the gifts for EVERYONE, plan and purchase all the food, including food he wants shipped to him.  I have to make the photo books, write and mail the Christmas letters, organize our photos, sort the hateful, never-ending mail.  Oh, and send him boxes of carefully chosen, usually-time-consuming items every 7-10 days, because I'm such a caring, COMMITTED wife. 

By this point, I was fuming.

I'm his little spokesmodel.  His representative to this stupid world of people who have no idea what he does, what our life is like, or how to sensibly inquire about it.  I nurture HIS relationships.  I write on HIS friends' Facebook walls, and correspond with HIS family and HIS colleagues and HIS coworkers!

It got more and more exaggerated.  I really don't email his coworkers. 

But, I MIGHT.  It's not like he's HERE to do it!  Ok, fine.  He can email from anywhere.  But, still.  It's the principle of the thing.  And he sometimes doesn't email people back, and then they DO come to me, because he never replied to them--

* * *

... About 36 hours into my embittered struggle, I realized what was tripping this off. 

(1)  I am feeling overwhelmed by parenting alone.  Suddenly, Little One is acting out, and it's intimidating.  And Husband is the most devoted father ever, so I'm really as un-alone as possible.  I'm such a lucky wife.  He counsels us from afar, admonishes her via video messages, thinks and prays and gives great ideas as much as possible.  But, when she's throwing a tantrum or needing more attention than I can give her, or when I need to use the bathroom or unload the groceries and she's shrieking endlessly, I have no one here with me.  Ever.  So it feels utterly alone - functionally- at many points.

(2)  He has finally hit his stride, over there.  He's gotten settled.  Found his rhythm.  Is getting along with most everyone now.  Feels significant in his work, and had adjusted to the food and culture and time zone and uncomfortable sleeping situation.  People like him.  They affirm him.  He's becoming popular.  He's finding his new identity.

But, I... haven't.  I can't even keep us on schedule two days in a row.  And we're going to be flying to a new location again soon, to spend time with family and friends for a while.  And that will mess everything up even more.  I almost don't want to go.  I want to cling to my faint routine (such as it is) here.  I want to create structure like he has.  I'm jealous of him, in a way.

I must be prone to comparison, apt to start self-pity contests.  It's ridiculously easy for me to be like, "Hey, you should try MY life!  I cook and clean and do laundry and take care of ALL these people and neighbors and relatives and friends and YOU, and I shop and stress, and I can't eat or shower or sleep sanely, and I never, ever, EVER finish my daily To-Do List!  So HA!"

* * *

But, I am where I am.  He is where he is.  This is our life.  Getting worked up and furious about it will only drain energy.  Don't go down that road.  You don't have to feel this way.  Remember, you can choose your emotions.  This will not help you.  Think thoughts that will help you.  K?  K.

Providentially, I finally recalled a conversation I'd had with a fellow military spouse: "The middle [of deployments] is hardest," she told me. "When they've already been gone for months, and you think the halfway point will be all triumphal - but, when you actually get there, you think, "Oh my gosh, this is only halfway?  I have to do all that OVER, another time?!"

And we're not halfway yet.   But, I feel the fatigue.  I feel the weariness.  I'm starting to understand why so many military wives just whine and complain on Facebook. 

It's the same reason all wives gripe.  Because discontentment comes easily, but perspective is hard to grasp when we need it most.  And because battles are won and lost in our minds, before they ever materialize into immature Facebook statuses or sharp comments to our spouse.  Because "from the heart, the mouth speaks."

I've been here before.  The cure is gratitude.  I know it is.

We all have so much.  We have cars to stress about, and children to worriedly parent.  Money to make stretch, and clothes to dislike, and email accounts that fill up with coupons and forwards and sales and calendar reminders and deadlines.  I have a husband who works hard and faithfully, so much so that he's often not here with us.  But, he wishes he could be.  I have a home, and a yard, and yes - chipped toenail polish, and a rubbery dinner, still lingering on my messy countertop at midnight, because I got interrupted before ever eating it.  But hey - it's still food.

When I list it out, I see more clearly.  I have so much.  No wonder it feels like a lot to manage.

Deployment Journal - Day #98

Not feeling like a great mom lately. Little One had an undigested leaf in her diaper yesterday, and a sliver of bark today. (Don't ask me where she finds these things on my perpetually immaculate floor... *rolls eyes*)

During church last week, I let her play with a snack-sized pack of M&Ms; she loves all crinkly items right now. Suddenly, during the prayer, she squealed atrociously and as I hastily touched her lips to hush her... there was chocolate. Lots of chocolate. She had squished and chewed and bitten a wee hole and sucked and sucked and sucked. Oops.

Then, while I was making dinner, she chattered over a pile of cardboard. She was a mere step away from me at all times, so I felt like a very attentive Momma. Until she suddenly gagged. And I saw a shimmer. Turned out one of the pieces of cardboard was actually the new set of tiny, tin hair clips I'd bought for her. "Oh noooooo!" I rushed over and fished two out of her mouth, and counted the missing ones. Six. Where were they?! Had she seriously eaten them?! No, there was the red one. And the purple one. Whew. I found all but the green one. My heart sank. Would it perforate an intestine? My blood pressure hovered above normal for twenty minutes until I suddenly found the green clip. And breathed again. She contentedly cooed the whole time

Still unnerved, I took her into the bathroom with me, and closed the door. And stared at her. Lest she eat the shampoo or something. But, she played with the doorstop excitedly (I've removed all the white rubber tips by now - which defeats the purpose of a doorstop, but keeps her from choking. Yay.) and I stood up to wash my hands.

Less than ten seconds passed and I heard the sound of paper. She had opened the cracked door and disappeared. Probably was getting into the my basket of piano music -it's a common temptation. Dripping water, I leaned out the door. She was nowhere. I darted into the hallway, looking left towards the kitchen. Nothing.

"Gaaaah!"

There she was, six steps up the staircase. She'd never climbed at all before. I nearly had heart failure.

Good thing kids are durable. Wish my adrenal glands were.

Deployment Journal - Day #97

I'm not normally much of a bathroom products person.  But recently, I was given a basket of goodies, made by a bunch of sweet, elderly ladies who faithfully pray for and make baskets for military wives.  And in my basket was a tiny bottle of shower gel.

I hadn't showered in four days.  It's been a really tough week.  And when I'm not showering for multiple days, I'm definitely not sleeping either (because showering often outranks sleeping, in my economy). 

You cling to bizarre, little things.  Like the sensation of running water, while rinsing dishes.  The feeling of flat, cold, smooth doorknobs.  The comfort of resting your head on the toilet paper roll for a fleeting moment, before standing back up. 

And pleasant scents.  I must have sniffed this bottle (Coconut Lime!) three dozen times before I made it to the shower later than night.  And that shower was wonderful.  Thank God for those ladies.  If only they understood how much this did for me!

... maybe they do.  In fact, they must.  They were pnce young moms, wives of deployed husbands, rarely managing to a shower. 

Just like me.

Deployment Journal - Day #96

How To Clip Baby Fingernails

1.  Settle in somewhere comfortable.  With a backrest.  And armrests, if possible.  And no sharp corners. 

2.  Have your child watch TV.  Or a movie.  A show.  Or an entertaining screensaver.

3.  If you're trying to oblige the American Academy of Pediatrics' recommendation to NOT expose your child to TV before age two... well, you need to give up that conviction, right now.

(Kidding.  Kinda)

4.  Seriously tho', find an Impressive Distraction.  A hysterical doggie, a crazy relative, many things will do.  But, you need a really Impressive Distraction.  TV works best, in my opinion.  But, we don't have a TV, so I use YouTube videos (of children singing and dancing to Scripture songs - which makes me feel less guilty for ignoring the APA.)

5.  Grip their tiny little hand firmly.  Specifically the finger you mean to clip.  You don't want it to jerk because then there will be (so, so, so much) blood. 

(It will still jerk some, even if you're Sampson.  Just try to minimize the jerking.)

6.  Don't grip the hand too tightly.  It makes the jerking worse, because Child will notice what you're doing and the Distraction won't be effective anymore.  Practice will help you find the perfect balance.  Maybe.

7.  Hook one side of the nail-clipping-blades under their fingernail.  Long fingernails help this.  But, they may also lacerate your child's face, in the 24 hours before you sighingly realized you must clip their nails (yet again.  So soon?!)

8.  Once the blade is under the nail, you can see better how deep the blade is, and you're almost guaranteed not to clip off fingertip flesh.  (You may, however, still clip off next-to-nail flesh.) 

Again.  Practice helps.  A little.

9.  Before squeezing the clippers shut, pause.  There will be a flinch.  (Or seventeen.)  Try to flex and follow the flailing hand around with the clippers still under the nail.  You will fail. 

10.  Eventually, the motion will hesitate, as your child wonders if he/she has broken free from Mommy.  Seize that moment.  Clip, clip, clip!

11.  Try to take your first chunk from the side of the nail.  Your second, from the opposite side.  Then, if all goes well, about twenty minutes later, you can clip the center, now-super-pointy-and-lethal tip off, cleanly. 

12.  If you have a full 24 hours, and nothing else to do, attempt to clip all nails.  Otherwise, clip four (or one) and congratulate yourself that you're 20% (or 5%) of the way through this horrid event.  Stop, drink some tea, talk in strange, goofy voices to assure your child that nothing noticeable happened!

By doing this daily, you should get all nails clipped by the time the first nails have grown into talons again.  Repeat steps 1-12.

Deployment Journal - Day #95

Husband tells me that an Asian co-worker of his, who has perfect pronunciation but a questionable understanding of English idioms, often accentedly remarks, "Too much busy, too much busy..."

 

Yup.  Us too.

 

Life seems very weighty lately.  Probably I'm just sleep deprived.  If only Daughter would sleep at night.  Or if only I could get caught up enough on my lists that I could nap when she does.  Or if only I could do tasks much, much faster.

 

Still.  We're managing.

 

Lipstick helps.

Deployment Journal - Day #94

Life Realization #971: By the time you have adequate perspective and wisdom for parenting, you'll most likely be a grandparent.  Or a great-grandparent.

 

 

I'm realizing that each generation of parents does life a little differently than the generation before them.  Even if you liked your parents and think they did a great job, you'll still deviate from them at times.  You have to.  It's a new era, a new setting - and you and your spouse and children form a unique (completely different) family dynamic.

 

I'm still figuring how when and how to deviate from what our parents did.  But, one thing I find myself frequently grateful for is how incredibly good my mother was with small children.  She understands them, and they understand her.  Silliness, fun, patient instruction, and endless compassion characterized my early years.  And my siblings' early years, too.  Which means I, being a teen by then, got to watch Mom being goofy and creative and low-key with them, too. 

 

Tonight, when I laid Little One down for her diaper change and she began to whine, I instinctively whipped out her elephant puppet, and started making it talk in strange voices.  She giggled, then laughed, then guffawed.   I chuckled with relief, handed it to her to examine, and swiftly changed her diaper, while simultaneously sneaking quick bites from my apple (read: supper) and listening to voicemails on my cell phone.  In that moment, it felt effortless.

But, this is my first kid.  She's tiny.  I am not experienced at this.  I won't be experienced at this for another few decades.

 

So, to the (small) degree that I am a fun, relaxed, let-her-dent-the-pans-and-tear-up-the-magazines type of mother already... I learned it from my mom.

Deployment Journal - Day #93

Trying to balance life here, and not feeling so impressive.  Little things feel like the end of the world again.  Grateful for so much.  But, overwhelmed by many of my blessings. 

* * *

 

I'm thankful for tank tops.  And laundry detergent.  Sunshine.  Fog.  Moonlight.  Towels.  Dishes.  Mail.  My laptop.  Yogurt.  Lotion.  Elections.  Democracy.  Argumentation.  Ice cream.  Hot showers.  Toothpaste.  Kitchens.  Freshly clipped nails.  Hymns.

 

* * *

 

Rejoice always. 

Pray without ceasing. 

Give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus concerning you.

 

- I Thessalonians 5:16-18

Deployment Journal - Day #92

Best Practices:

- Storing candles and other aromatic home goods in my coat/linen closets.  Mmm...

- Doing the least desirable task first.  And being honest when I'm avoiding it.

- Storing wallet, keys, checkbook, cell phone, and pen IN my purse.  Keeping cell charger, gloves, water, sunglasses, and lipstick IN my car.  Saving bank, doctor, dentist, mall, and hairdresser's numbers IN my phone.

- Writing lists of mundane, easily-forgotten blessings, every day

- Going outside, no matter the weather

Deployment Journal - Day #91

People told me she wouldn't notice the absence of her Daddy.  I mean, she's so little and he's only home a few hours, on the best of days.  Maybe she wouldn't notice his never coming home, right?  Wrong.  He left, and she promptly stopped sleeping.  And started whimpering constantly.  And fidgetting.  And she didn't smile as much.  And she freaked out if I moved more than 12 inches away from her.

 

I honestly don't think it was my fault; I acted as much like my normal self as possible, and I think I did a darn good job.  I was cheerful and playful and pretended all was normal.  But, especially at bedtime, she knew.  She would murmur, "Da da da da..." and look up at me so forlornly.  He had always put her to bed.  Now, she struggled to fall asleep, woke up every hour crying panicked "Momma!  Momma!"s, and would kick and struggle if I dared to sing DADDY'S goodnight songs.  I had to sing other songs.  She was ok with that.

 

Finally, one day, he appeared on Skype.  She saw him from across the room on my laptop - and seriously lost her mind.  She was so excited, she couldn't handle it.  She flew across the room, and did all her tricks for him, in rapid succession, unprompted.  Sticking out her tongue, making clicking noises, crawling, squealing, touching foreheads with me, playing peek-a-boo with him.  And she got all shy every time he said her name.

 

She's only seven months old.  How does she know?  She can't figure out that the kid in the mirror is her; she sits on her own hand and cries in confused pain; she still can't deduce how to do a crawling U-turn, but she knows Daddy isn't home when he's supposed to be.  She misses him.  The doctors told me she'd forget.  But, she hasn't. 

 

On the nights he doesn't Skype or call, my job is much more difficult.  I intentionally let her get into all sorts of mischief, just to help time pass until bedtime.  And those last couple hours are still torturous.  Nothing amuses her, distractions are minimally effective, she fights her last feeding, clearly exhausted but not wanting to go to bed without his voice - and then, she doesn't sleep well.  (I relate.  I do the same thing.  Only hours after she does.)

 

But, on the nights when he sends her to bed, talking to her about her fluffy blankets and her stuffed giraffe and her songs, even via Skype, she sleeps solidly.  It's like magic.  And it works every single time.

 

Someone recently asked me how often we talk to him.  "Oh, every day or two, he calls on the phone, and a few times per week, we try to Skype.  Sometimes it doesn't work, but we try," I smiled politely.  

 

"Oh, that's great you get to talk so much!" she enthused, heartlessly.

 

Really?  That's great?  Because I think it's lousy.  I think we're doing our best, and I'm grateful for the amount we can talk.  But, I doubt you'd like talking to your husband once every couple of days, and never getting to chose when, or for how long, or how many times you'll get disconnected, or interrupt/not be able to hear each other because of the technical delay, or if you'll be in the middle of a sentence when he has to disappear again for another 48 hours. 

 

I think when your husband deploys, you won't think it's 'great.'

 

But, I didn't say that.  I just nodded and politely inquired about her life, in the same tone that I respond when people reassuringly assert that my daughter doesn't realize he's gone.  I know better than they do.

 

What I don't know is how people did this before satallite phones and Skype.

Deployment Journal - Day #90

When I was seven years old, I hear a radio skit about a man who bought a machine that would give him complements and encouragement each time he pushed a button.  It was meant to be a spoof, a funny depiction of people who have a high need for affirmation and who will accept it from anywhere it's offered.

I didn't get the joke.  I thought it was a great idea.  I still kinda do.  I'd buy that machine.

So, when I was filling up my gas tank the other day, on a rather crummy day, it didn't surprised me to hear my own, self-congratulatory thoughts:

Look at you, you're such a responsible adult.  You have a specific debit card for gas, and your wallet is all organized, and you're even washing your windshield despite this miserable wind and rain.  Go you!

... Oh, please stop sobbing, dear Daughter - Momma has to fill up the gas tank.  I know, I'm so sorry - you don't understand why the heat turned off.  And your beloved musical flower's dying batteries make it sound possessed, I know.  Oh, don't jerk the cord so hard - you'll break it!  It just needs new batteries!  I think they BX carries them.  I'll get new batteries maybe tonight, later, if we can manage it, ok?  

Here - see me?  PEEK-A-BOO!  Momma's RIGHT HERE!!!

Oh crud - gasoline on my boot.  That's gonna smell up the car.  Wow, she's shrieking now... ohhh... *Deep breath*  You'll be home in five minutes.  She'll be fine.  She's just tired.  You're a good mom.  She's crying because she likes you near, and she doesn't like you walking away.  

There, now you're driving.  Hey, you remembered to re-set the odometer!  Good job!!  And you got good mileage on this tank - you're getting better!  Woohoo.  

Ok, singing loudly to calm daughter now.  If only people could see me.  Ha.  Alright, singing isn't working - we're skipping the mail pickup and heading straight home - alright, Little One?  Ok... we can DO this.  We're almost home.  Man, I'm hungry.  But, you need to eat.  And so do I.  Hum.  I didn't time this right, did I?  

Well, good thing I bought some more juice and yogurt!  Easy food.  Smart Momma!

And so the days pass, a few minutes at a time.

Deployment Journal - Day #89

Today was spent trying to reassemble our deserted lives.  I made progress.

Not enough.

But, I worked hard, and tried to convince myself that my hearty effort was sufficient.  on the upside, I scrubbed several floors and re-committed myself to buying a new, working vaccuum ASAP.  Those stairs are atrocious.  And Baby is presently trying to eat every pebble and fuzz off of them.  Heh.

I didn't dust.  Fortunately, most of our things don't require dusting.  Like these fake flowers.  Maybe that's why I love them.

Deployment Journal - Day #88

This week's FIFTH (5th!) trip into the city happened today.  Quite sure we've never gone more than three times in a single week before.  I now know why.  I seriously wanted to veer off the road randomly, out of pure boredom.  The drive felt so long.  Particularly if Little One isn't sleeping, and her fussing and squiriming and protesting grinds into my already-tired nerves.  Minutes feel really long at these times.

Ironically, I used to live in a city - a very large one, actually - and I routinely drove 50-90 minutes to get anywhere.  But, something about the sheer quantity of endless dirt and sky, of edgeless space only occasionally punctuated by "OHMYGOSH there's a teeny house over there - see it?!  On your left, about ten miles away.  WOW, I wonder who lives there?!" moments -- it just makes long drives seem longer here.

It's intense.  Honest.  Even tho' I feel ridiculous trying to explain why I'm not just being a wimp.  Really.  I'm not.

This said, today's route was actually twice as long (yes, that means we drove over two hours, each way - a logistical riddle, with a small child's schedule to accommodate - plus errands in the middle, making our total "stuck in carseat" time just shy of six hours.  Poor darling.) 

But, it was worth it to see a dear old friend, whose age and health make it impossible for her to come to us.  And she tottled around her yard with us, insisting we take bagfulls of her ripe apples and grapes and plumcots. 

I was grateful we went.  It'll likely be a while until we go again.

It's the most beautiful time of the year.

I took this photo for Husband, so he could see the changing tree and bush colors, before the leaves were wrenched off by the blustery wind (good thing I did, too - they were gone in 48 hours, poor things).  But, I liked it so much - it cheered me somehow - that I kept opening the file myself, just to re-look at it.  Yay, autumn!

Deployment Journal - Day #86

The end of summer means the last of my harvest.  Last night was the first below freezing.  Today, the grass was crunchy and my trees were abruptly gold-tipped.  I've been drowning in massive zucchini; now the onslaught is finally tapering.  I'm relieved. 

And sad.  I love my little garden.  I don't know if I'll get another summer with this garden box, the one my husband built me so sweetly when I was pregnant and feeling hyper-nurturing. 

It's made from old redwood, the only kind that the base approved - we had to hunt and "steal" it from the old housing area, before the demolition.  The lumber lengths we got form an odd rectangle; Husband bolted it together so securely that we can't take the box with us when we next PCS.  But, I've finally got the clay-meets-sand soil all doctored up nicely and my plants were so happy this year.  *sigh* 

So, it felt a little bit sentimental when I plucked my final zucchini this morning.  It earned a photo.

Deployment Journal - Day #85

Back to the city today.  Yes, 3rd time.  Don't ask. 

Tonight, I was desperately productive to compensate for another trip.  And I even made Pear Cobbler for dinner.  I figured it was roughly equivalent to whole wheat toast with large amounts of jelly.  And I drank milk.  Protein, right?  And several slices of bacon, actually, because grains and fruit and milk don't get you very far.  Especially when you drank Odwalla and Rootbeer all day, because you were all out of snacks when you whisked out the door again this morning.

But, I did more than just eat.  Honest.  I just can't remember what.  Too tired.  Trying again tomorrow. 

In the morning, I will reference my endless To-Do Word document and remember what I should have done today.

Deployment Journal - Day #84

And on some days, nothing can improve life so much as squealing hysterically at a fishtank. 

 

 

 

 

May God bless the merciful librarians (AKA: Fishie owners) who don't actually shush us, because they think she's just too adorable!

Deployment Journal - Day #83

Today was the 2nd day in a row that I drove the 100 miles to our nearest "city" - on the hunt for a Craigslist possibility for Husband.  I truly didn't mind the interruption to our normal schedule, tho' it did monopolize both days.  But, I did mind that the deal didn't pan out.  I felt sulky.  Sad.  Especially sad I would have to tell hopeful Husband that the item wasn't what we thought it would be.  It would have been such a great deal - totally worth the $40.00 in gas.

But, I was oh so grateful for the kind bystanders who politely sided with me against said Craigslist seller.  There are nice people left in this world. 

And I was cheered by the sidetrip through Costco, and the chance to return a pair of ill-fitting pants to the only LOFT around (and thus save on return-shipping), and how effortlessly and pleasantly I got us out the door when flakely Craigslist seller suddenly called my cell phone and wanted to meet in two hours (I live over an hour away, and - hello - I have a baby!) just when I was about to put Precious Daughter down for her nap.  Wait, weren't we supposed to meet in two days?  Well, yes but if you don't meet me now, I'll just sell the item to my friend standing right here, HAHA.

So, off we went.  Juice and protein bars. 

And after all this, I was innovative when a restaurant caught on fire across from my parked car, and naturally I couldn't drive away, (or even sit inside my car) so I found a Maternity Boutique a block over, and fed Baby in their dressing room.  Score.  We also played, and crawled, and got some wiggles out.  Whew!  Poor kid wasn't meant to spend this much time sitting.

Thus, I was feeling a mixture of pride and weariness when I finally folded up the stroller, threw bags in thr trunk, slipped into the driver's seat and... Saw a parking ticket on my windshield.  For my ten-minutes-expired meter.  And I nearly swore. 

Oh, the injustice.  IT WASN'T MY FAULT THE FIRETRUCK BOXED ME IN!

You think the judge will believe me?

Deployment Journal - Day #82

 
Grateful for autumn afternoons.  Comforting sunshine.  Cleansing breezes.  The smell of soil and leaves and coming moisture. 

Thankful for parks, and and bare feet, and strollers, and the brilliance to leave my house and pause my To-Do list for an hour.

Deployment Journal - Day #81

 

 





 
One perfect, little Shirley-Temple curl, appearing after yesterday's bath.  I wonder if it'll stay?  I would sure love if it did...

Deployment Journal - Day #80

Husband really misses cooking.  Like, making his own food - using spatulas, measuring cups, spices - here in our kitchen.  He also misses familar food.  So, I've been scheming, testing recipes, and trying to devise ways to bring food (and cooking) to him.   I deduced that he has access to a microwave and small refrigerator.  And I realized that, with those two things, he could make no-bake cookies.  From scratch.  So, I sent him a few supplies and the following recipe... and he was ecstatic.

 

 

 

 

J  Peanut Butter & Nutella Cookies – Deployment Style  J

Ok, pleeeeeease read these directions.  I’m being a little OCD here, but I think my tips may help you to make these cookies with as little inefficiency (read: lost sleep/frustration) as possible  J

 

Alright, I’ve sent you two, 4-Cup Glad Containers.  In one of them, the (2 cups) Brown Sugar, (1/4 Cup) Cocoa Powder, and dash of salt are premeasured. 

 

You will need to gather from your stash:

 

-          One jar with the liquid (sharpie) measurement markings on it (you’ll need to measure ½ cup)

-          Your dry measuring cups (you’ll only use the 1 Cup measure, tho’)

-          Milk (made from your dry milk powder – this recipe uses ½ cup)

-          Coconut oil

-          Oats

-          1 fork, 1 spoon, and a spatula/plastic knife, if possible

 

In the box, I’ve included a snack-sized container of Creamy JIF Peanut Butter, one small jar of Nutella, wax paper, and 8x8 tin baking dishes.  Assemble everything near a microwave and a table/counter/floor/horizontal surface. 

 

Preemptively make room in your fridge (or freezer) for the tin baking pan(s) – and then line of the tin pans and several broken-down cereal boxes with wax paper.  (We’re going to use them as cookie sheets!  Brilliant, no?  You really could use anything that’d fit in the fridge and stay semi-stiff; plastic files, manila folders, etc.)  You’ll ultimately need 2-3 cookie-sheets-worth of space for the cookies to chill. 

 

Then, take your jar with the ½ cup measurement marking and fill it with less than ½ cup coconut oil; microwave in 3-5 second increments to melt the oil, and gradually add more until it’s exactly ½ cup.  Pour the oil into the Glad container with the sugar/cocoa/salt.  Then, measure ½ cup milk, and pour it into the same container, too.  Mix with fork, until thoroughly combined.   It will be runny.

 

Pour half the runny mixture into the other, empty Glad container.  (This doesn’t have to be precise – just divide it semi-equally.)   Then, microwave each container cautiously, bringing the mixture to a boil.  But seriously, be careful.  The mixture puffs up when it boils, which is why you needed to divide it.  Try to boil each for roughly 60 seconds.  But, don’t let it explode/boil over either.  J  And please, don’t burn your hands; the plastic will be hot.

 

Quickly re-combine all hot liquid into one Glad container.  Then, scoop out the peanut butter, and add to Glad container of hot liquid.  Try to scrape it all out .  Then, refill the same (formerly PB) container with Nutella – equally, but generously.  J  Stir everything again, letting the PB and Nutella melt in. 

 

Now, measure 3 cups of oats into the NON-wax-paper-lined tin pan.  Pour the containers of hot liquid over the oats.  Mix gently with fork, til all oats are covered in the mixture.  Spoon piles on wax paper/”cookie sheets.”   Put the cookies as close together as possible; they won’t spread out much at all.  Try to move quickly, since the mixture gets stiffer as it cools.  This recipe makes 24-30 cookies, depending how big you make ‘em. 

 

Chill for at least an hour – overnight would be ideal.  After they’re chilled, you can pile them onto each other in the tin pans, and the Glad containers, so you won’t have to use up much refrigerator real-estate for long.  They allegedly freeze well/taste delicious frozen.  Hope that helps  J  I bet they won’t last long, though…

 

… Just think of this as me bringing cookies to your office.  They won’t help anyone’s diet, but I hope you all enjoy them! 

 

I love you!!!