Nothing but cornfields

The best quote of our trip came in Dyersville, Iowa, the tiny town noted only for "Field of Dreams" filming there in 1989.

When told we were moving cross-country to Ohio, a friendly, local lady sympathized: "Aw, too bad you have to drive 'cross Indiana next! All they've got o'er there is 'ours of cornfields!"

#andwhatexactlydoyouhavehereagain #smalltownamerica

Every forty miles or so...

Clearly, Cabelas is the Cracker Barrel of the North; you can absolutely measure your roadtrip mileage by them.

Deployment Journal - Day #186

No longer feeling capable.  Roadblocks everywhere.  My whole world is a chicken-or-egg dilemma.

I can't take the trash out, because the trashcan is still under a MASSIVE snowdrift.  K, fine - I'll pile bags in garage.

I can't even make cereal because the milk still hasn't thawed.  (Brilliant pre-freezing plan FAIL.)

I can't even hang a shirt on a hanger before Little One is up the stairs.  She was not this fast two months ago.

I can't sleep, because she can't sleep, because we're in another new place.  So she wakes a million times a night to make sure I'm still here, and then sleeps during the day while I try to unpack.  

And the toilet is leaking and the garage door won't open.  And I don't know where the water valve is.  

No, it is not on the back of the toilet.

... And there are many more things that are entirely impossible to solve, but I'm too tired to remember them.  =(  

We may never get unpacked.  Or eat.  Ever again.  

G'night.

Deployment Journal - Day #185

I realized something about myself today.  Relief makes me like things.  Even somewhat irrationally.

Oh, Burger King!  How I love you, tho' you be the sole source of drive-thru food for miles!

My trashcan liners!  MINE! Here, I will put a new one in MY trashcan!  THERE!  I love lining trash cans!!!

Stairs!  Climbing stairs is the BEST.  Hauling suitcases up them is fun, too!  YAY!  We're hauling, we're hauling, we're hauling, we're hauling!

Isn't it AMAZING to be HOME, Little One?!

Conversely, fear makes me dislike things that I would otherwise really enjoy.

Like classroom learning.  And marriage.  And parties.  And trying new things.  Like rockclimbing and sardines.

When, for whatever reason, fear levels are lower, I like everything more.  Proportionally so.  Thus, when fear levels are nill - say, I'm back in my own house with my own space and my own schedule and my own choices and no one observing or judging me... I'm elated.  It feels like I can do life again.

It's amazing to be home.

Day #184 - The Journey Home

When I first booked our tickets to fly from the warm place to the cold place, I thought an 8:00 p.m. arrival time would be fine.  It was the only straight-through option (and those are kinda a big deal to we moms traveling alone with squirmy toddlers) and the weather is usually fine at night in January and it'd be easier for one of my working friends to pick us up anyhow.  Also, Little One wasn't going to bed until around 10 p.m. when I booked the flight.

What a miscalculation.

Evil Storm Gandalf pounded the area for two days beforehand (I kept telling myself that it would be "over" by the time our travel day arrived, but he held out longer), and Little One's bedtime had moved to 7 p.m.  Bad stuff.

I lived in denial until we arrived at the airport, and my HAIRDRESSER called.  (Yes.  I live in a very small town.)  She knew I was flying in (I had a haircut scheduled for the following day) and urged me not to try to get from the city to my home that night.  I bit my lip and wondered if she was being paranoid.  I know these roads can get really, really bad, but they never have in the last two years.

She called back, about ten minute later, having just listened to her "battery radio" and heard the newest road closures, wreck reports, and weather updates.  She told me to stay near the airport.

Crud.

Meanwhile, Little One had fallen asleep two minute from the airport, so we were loitering and strategically dragging our feet in the parking garage.  Finally, we rushed inside (I had issues unhooking the carseat.  Hate carseats.), went to the bathroom, (naturally Nature called at the worst time possible) said our farewells, got through security (barely - so awkward - this was my least impressive attempt ever).  Aided by a nice Santa-Clause-like TSA agent named Charlie, we made it through with only one bag getting re-inspected (who knew that kids' books containing batteries would set off sensors?!) and rushed off to our gate, massively disorganized.  I spent the whole time huffing and trying to figure out what I'd forgotten.

Keys, ID, Ticket, Child... have those - how bad can it be?

While in line to board, I called my friend who was supposed to pick us up.  I only had two minutes, and rapidly told her not to come - we'd stay in a hotel.

"Oh, I'm already halfway there - I left early," she replied.

Crud.

I had to board.  Little One was crying.  It was almost bedtime already.

The nicest angel sat next to us.  She was a grandmother of seven.  She looked up hotels and rates and road condition reports for me, with her free Wi-Fi pass.  She let Little One play with her Kindle, dressing up the kitty and reading virtual books.  Little One figured out the touchscreen gestures instantly.  Scary.  We fed her ice chips and limes and tried to keep her quiet, which worked until the last 20 minutes when she finally just howled and flailed and lost her mind.  (We were now an hour past bedtime.)

Trudging as rapidly as possible down the corridor with a weeping child, I decided we had to stop and change her diaper.  This was when I realized I had 3 remaining diapers to last until we got home.

Awesome.

We met our faithful friend and began discussing options.  I still didn't want to stay in town.  She didn't want to say "We need to."  She's super sweet like that.  But, reason dictated that we really ought to stay.  It was nasty out there.

After an hour of gathering baggage, trying install that (dang) carseat (in another new vehicle, with different hooks and tethers) in sub-zero temperatures, trying to console my still wailing child, we headed cautiously down the road to our hotel.  Just those three miles were scary.

We got to the hotel, but Little One panicked if she lost sight of me.  Naturally.  We were now almost three hours past bedtime and she was thoroughly traumatized by this day.  So I tried to carry her across the glassy ice, along with my shoulder bag, while wearing the stupidest, slippery-est flats EVER.  We almost died in that parking lot.

I got inside, we quivering tried to check in, and turned out - they needed a different ID than my military ID.

Back across the parking lot.

I tried leaving Little One with my friend, deciding that frostbite would be worse than emotional upset.  I may have predicted that wrong.  Frenzy doesn't even capture her reaction.

But, we got checked in and limped upstairs to our room.  Providentially, somehow I had packed all the crucial things into one bag.  That was God's influence alone, since I must have moved a dozen items from bag to bag, right before leaving my parents' house.  I couldn't even remember what was where, but we hauled up one bag - the one that I knew contained her special blankets, my laptop, my phone charger, and who-knows-what else.

And we never needed any other bag, so Praise De Lord.  (Also, when you sleep in your clothes, eat cookies for dinner, and have no toiletries, it does cut down on needs.)

It took poor Little Kitten almost an hour of weeping to fall asleep - after we figured out how to assemble the playpen, which the hotel thankfully offered us.  I got online, and talked to Husband.  Poor husband knew none of what had happened.  Somehow, it helped just to have internet again.  Funny how internet access is a security.

We slept better than I expected.  In between two nursing sessions, I probably got 4 hours of sleep.  YES.

There was a paltry continental breakfast in the morning, and we lingered, kinda scared of the road, but still (yes, this was desperate) hoping to get me back in time for my noon haircut.  Ha.  We drove about 35 MPH the whole way home.  We lived.

... I ended up moving my haircut back to 12:30, because we arrived on my driveway at 11:20; it was covered in a foot of snow, and... I deduced that we could not leave again in ten minutes.

We did, however, nurse and change diapers, find boots and coats, unload the car and leave again in 35 minutes.  GO US.

Between the adrenaline of driving on terrible ice, and having eaten no solid food in 18 hours, I was shaking so badly by the time I got to the salon, I could barely climb the stairs.  I bought a bag of Doritoes and gobbled it like a crazy person.  My gracious hairdresser didn't comment, only smiled.  I eventually began telling her about the past 24 hours.

Little One must have remembered the salon, because she was suddenly at ease and cheerful again.  Everyone there loves her.  Also, I'd brilliantly thought to grab her a snack too.  Food makes a huge difference.

And my hair got cut and styled.  I felt human again.

We drove home, over the crazy ice again, and collapsed thru our doorway.  I pulled some meat and milk and butter and bread from the freezer, put Baby down for a nap, and fell onto the couch.  We were home.  Barely.

Sorry I could not travel both...

Most military spouses desperately want to get stationed abroad.  Somewhere.  Possibly anywhere.  I’m among the non-picky – I’d take anywhere.  I love America – but I love traveling.  I love new cultures, new places, new people, new mannerisms, new languages…  So yes, I frequently ask dear Husband, “Any OCONUS billets?”  And last year, we made it across 23 contiguous states... but no oceans.

However, one thing I love about our current station is that the international world has come to us, in the form of "Republic of Singapore Air Force."  And by "come to us" - I mean, our whole world is shared.  The other half of our duplex belongs to a sweet Singaporean family.  Many of our kindest neighbors are Singaporean.  And they are as excited to be here, as I would be in England.  =)

I met Allison at PWOC - she just arrived from Singapore with her husband, three children, and family cook/maid - and was an instant delight in my life.  She and I became walking buddies - and she braved the frigid hundred-MPH gusts like an Alaskan native.  So did her 1 year old.  Go him.  Then, she invited me to her home, to eat delectable pineapple pastries and a noodle lunch... aww!

We went out to pizza after church with their family, and in between the natural cacophony of public family eating, we discussed everything from real estate markets and cycles of business growth, to social views of children and the age-old Security-vs.-Liberty debate.  Jerediah, Allison's husband, explained that Singapore falls very firmly on the "security" side, and was fascinated to hear arguments for "liberty" instead.  (Husband and I had just finished judging a 2-day debate tournament, and could easily defend either side, after listening to hundreds of teenagers attempt to do so.)

It warms my heart to see them enjoying my country so much.  They are psyched about putting their nearly-five-year-old son on the soccer team.  Visiting REI (for the first time) was like glimpsing Utopia.  AWANA, gymnastics classes, Bible studies, skiing - all these things are novel luxuries to her, and she is so grateful for them. 

It's convicting to me.

We may or may not ever go abroad.  But, military life compels living in the present - lest you go nuts, thinking about the future.  So for today, I'm super-thankful to have Allison, whose awe and excitement remind me of all the blessings I have here.  And for the awesome international section of our commissary.  And for the excellent sushi bar.  And for the library, with all its travel videos.  And for all the little dark-haired children, playing out front.  And for all the joy and variety and perspective they bring to my otherwise homogenous little world.