A Better Lunch

When you space your children 4 years apart each, you tend to forget things in between.  I usually can't remember what I did yesterday.  So, the fact that i have to re learn some of the best little parenting lessons each time they pop up shouldn't be a surprise to me, or anyone that knows me.
Today's little parenting lesson relearned, if you want to actually each your own lunch, you must make two.  You see, we have entered the phase with The Littlest One where whatever we have on our plates looks infinitely better than what ever is on her plate or high chair tray, even if it is the same exact food.  It must be the presentation, and the big silver fork.  She does like the shiny things.  Regardless, she likes our food far more than her own.  As any good parent would, I tend to give up a good portion of my lunch to her.  The thing is, I usually don't want to trade back for what she has, again, even if it is the same food.  Once she has it, she tends to destroy it, or in foodie terms, she likes her meals deconstructed   I'm more into a polished, total meal, than a deconstructed one that might have a little snot, or who knows what else, mixed in.  Therefore, I need to remember to make two plates for myself from now on.  The first plate will be my decoy plate.  I will star off by pretending to eat from it.  Then, once she makes her move, I can start surreptitiously eating from the second plate, while feeding her everything from the first.  I know it sounds difficult, but I am hungry and desperate to eat an actual meal.  I am glad she likes real food, and good food, too, but I wish she would like it a little more on her own plate, and not so much just from mine.

And That's Why We Moved Here

Moving from California was hard for us.  Or course it was physically difficult.  I doubt that anyone would think packing up everything you own and moving it yourself across country with three children would be easy.  Far from easy.  I would tell you that it is far less than pleasant, in fact.  Mentally, it was challenging, deciding what would go, what would be given away, how to pack what and where, and making sure we were well within our time line.  On top of all that, though, was the emotional factor.  California was really home to us, at least The Girls and I.  I don't think My Husband ever loved it like we did, and let me assure you we did, but he had lived there, at least when we wasn't deployed, for the last eight years as well.
The thing is, sometimes life gives you choices.  In our case, it was a choice that had to be made quickly.  When the opportunity rose, My Husband and I chose to move our family thousands of miles away, to an area that neither of us had ever lived in before, to try to make a better life for our family.
We chose to move here for a couple of reasons.
First, there was a job.  That happens to be a big deal right now.  He was retiring from the military, and while there were other jobs that looked like they would work in California, they weren't in San Diego, where we were.  They were pretty close.  None of them seemed perfect, though.  Then, this location popped up, gave him a call, and said they wanted him immediately.  Seriously, they said he needed to there in about a week and a half.  That was impressive.  Furthermore, they were totally impressed with him.
The location seemed ok.  The area looked decent.  Not a small town, but not huge, either.
The kicker, though, and what really clenched it for us, was that all of our families would be close.  His family was about two and a half hours away.  My sister was two hours in another direction.  My mother, brother, and the few other family members I actually want to speak to are about three hours in yet another direction.  That put us just about smack dab in the middle of everyone.  With three children to travel with, being in the middle of everyone seemed like the easiest place to be.
So far, I would say that is correct.  In the very few months that we have been in this house, my sister has come in twice, my mother twice, and we have gone to see all of them once each.  That means we have already seen more family than we have in the past few years.  This past week was Fall Break for The Girls at school.  We had a full week, and I would say that we used it to it's fullest.  We took the first weekend, and drove up to see My Husband's family.  We went to a unbelievable pumpkin patch.  The kids got to spend a ton of time with their cousin.  We got to hang out with my Sister-In-Law, which was nice.  Then, they got to spend some great time with their grandparents.  We had a fun few days.  After that, we came home to work on a few very important things here.  First, there was a science project to complete.  The Big One needed to make a model of a plant cell.  She and I spent a few days working on that, with me mostly guiding, but helping out as needed.  Second, there were Halloween decorations to start.  We love Halloween.  Decorating is a big deal for us, now that we have an actual yard to decorate.  We only got a small start, putting up the first part of our cemetery in the yard, and two of our inflatables, but at least we got started.  There was also a leaf or two, or two thousand, that needed to be taken care of.  We five bags of leaves just from the driveway, and one side of our curb (we have a corner lot with two curbs to take care of).
Once we were done here, we drove three hours in the opposite direction as our first trip, and we to go see my family.  It was also awesome.  We didn't do a lot, but we got to hang out, and that was fantastic.  The Girls got to see their other cousin, The Dangerous One, and play.  We went to my brother's house for dinner one night.  They had a Nerf war with them.  The Big One spent all night loving on, aka torturing, one of their cats.  It was seriously great.  My Sister came in, and almost every one was there.  That usually only happens once a year on Thanksgiving.  So, getting to do it on just a random weekend, was so incredibly special to me, it was just awesome.
Being able to just see our loved one, and finally getting to let the girls really be with their families, makes all the hurt of missing the ones I love, my chosen family back in San Diego, and  my home in general, dealing with all the things that are so much harder for me when living in the south, and really the Bible Belt, so much better.  This is why we moved here.  For the love, for the family.  I'm glad we did.

Please Don't Wreck Because Of Me

**This post is a cross post from my other blog.  I have a weight loss blog with a really cheesy name that I have just started writing in again. If you want to read about my goal to not be fat, please start reading the other blog as well.  **



I may have said this before, but as a general rule, until I got very serious about losing weight, I never ran. Running was reserved for things like hurt children that I had to get to, zombies or other predators following me, or bees.
Quite frankly, the thought of running didn't even appeal to me, in the least.  I thought people who ran were a little nutty in the head.  I mean, there are a thousand ways to exercise besides running down a a sidewalk in skin tight clothes for every one on the face of this earth to stare at.  I like those other ways.
However, no matter how much I like them, I haven't been doing them enough, because I am still fat.
 
Before getting pregnant with The Littlest One, I was actually trying to run at least once a week at an actual track.  I used a couch to 5k app that I put on my phone.  It was kicking my butt.  I was losing a ton of weight with everything that I was doing, though.  Then, I did get pregnant and I gained 45 lbs or so.  Yes.  It sucks.  I am now re losing everything that I had lost before.  Totally sucks.  Every drop of sweat shed, just to have to do it all again.  So, here we are.  I don't have that track to run on anymore, though, and i need to do this a little more faithfully.  Most of the time I used to exercise, it was using DVDs inside.  Now, though, The Littlest One doesn't appreciate being put in baby jail, aka the play pen, for 30 minutes or so to watch me sweat, followed by another 20 minutes in the pen so that I can shower.  In fact, it kind of pisses her off.  So, I bought a really good jogging stroller, and I decided to use it.  I had to.  My husband said with as much money as we spent on it, it better have some "damn dirt on those damn wheels".  I agree.
Now, I go out three times a week, and use the couch to 5k app.  For the first week, that means a warm up walk, followed by intervals of walking and jogging.  Its great and all, except I don't exactly have a place to run, so I run around my neighborhood, down the side of the street, for everyone to watch.  Not in skin tight clothes, though, I promise.  I wouldn't do that to my self or anyone else.  No matter what I wear, though, I'm still out there bouncing around for all to see.  Between my gigantic boobs, and the spare tire midsection, there is a whole lotta bounce going on, too.  I have had some serious stares.  I thought I was going to cause a wreck the other day.  I try to purposefully time my list jogging interval to be a down hill run, because i need the assistance to finish it by that point.  So, I run, down hill, as hard as I can.  It stop at a 4 way intersection.  The thing is, the cars coming to that intersection can see me coming.  One particular car not only noticed me, but I think they were concerned.  They were staring hard.  I'm not sure if they thought the fat girl was being chased,and were looking for the zombies or bees,  thought I lost control and were waiting to see be go head over heals down the side walk, or simply couldn't take their eyes off my bouncing melons, but they just kept sitting there.  Other cars were coming.  Other cars were waiting at the stop signs.  Still, they sat.  It wasn't until I actually came to a stop they they were able to move on.  Perhaps they had assured themselves that there were no zombies chasing me, and all was safe in the world.
No matter, though, I will keep running.  I have to.  I have set my own goals, and I really want to run a 5k. Moreover, though, I really want to be healthy.  I am going to do this.  I am going to keep working hard, and I will get back down to where I was, and beyond.  In the mean time, when you see me running by, please don't stop and stare, and really please dont' wreck.

Its All Bitter Sweet

Today is The Fourth of July.  Today we celebrate our nation's birthday.  This is the day we all wear red, white, and blue, and come together to show our pride as a country.  It is also one of those days when we are especially thankful for those who have served in uniform.  The members of our military, who have kept our nation safe, and have ensured we are able to enjoy all of our freedoms, today and everyday, are in the for front of many of our thoughts.  I know they are in mine.  I have spent Independence days with out my husband.  We have been separated, instead of celebrating, while he was out keeping us safe, patrolling our water ways, transporting enemy combatants, airlifting the injured to medical help, and what ever else our nation ask of him.
So, today, I think of all those families around me right now, and how their lives are impacted this July Fourth, by the vital jobs someone in their families do.
Then, I think about next year, when we won't be a military family anymore.  This is very likely the last year we will get to see "The Big Bay Boom" with all the fireworks displays over San Diego Bay, an incredible sight to see.  We won't be driving on base next year, since even if we stay in Southern California, we will be too far away, to enjoy the show, and pal around with the people he works with on the roof top of his building.  We won't be dong any of that.  He won't even work with those people any more.
I find myself trying to enjoy things a little more, maybe looking at the little things a bit differently, because I realize how final it all could be.
The military, and the lifestyle that accompanies it, has been a part of everything we do, for the entirety of the time that I have known my husband.  I see that ending, and honestly, its a little like seeing a death coming from far out.  I try not to be morose about it all, but when you are staring down the barrel of a very uncertain future, its hard not to be.
I need to take the time to enjoy what we have, and not miss it now, but again, that's hard to do.
I will try, though.  For the next 3 and a half weeks, because that is all we have left, I will try my best to celebrate the life we have had, and not mourn it.  I will try to enjoy the time, places, and people that we know, and not miss them before I am gone.  I will.  More importantly, I will try my best to look forward to our future, instead of constantly looking back.  Its hard, but I will try.
no one ever told me, though, that one of the hardest parts of being a military family is the leaving, and I wish they would have.  Perhaps then I would have been more prepared for this.  Perhaps.
So, Please enjoy your day.  Celebrate.  Take pride in everything that makes our nation great.  Remember those who have fought, or are fighting, to keep us free.  Thank you, and happy Fourth!

Thank You Is Not Enough

Today is Memorial Day.
I guess the impending retirement for my husband is making me sentimental of all things military, or maybe I get this way every Memorial Day and don't realize it, but I am very grateful today.  I spent the day, just the girls and I as My Husband is currently out of town trying to find a new job, thinking over and over about all the people I know who have served.

I thought about my grandfather who served in World War II.  He fought under General Patton, and when his unit was over run by German forces, he was forced to play dead.  As if that wasn't enough, he had to be totally still and silent as someone ran a bayonet through him to be sure he was really gone.  He survived, though and came home with a Purple Heart for his trouble.

I thought about my own father, who served in Vietnam.  I called to ask him again what medals he received for his service, so that I could tell our girls about him.  I ask him to tell the the story one more time of how he received is own Purple Heart, the one he won't wear, though I know it well.  He was out on patrol, and a motor came in screaming in.  He started running for camp as fast as he possibly could.  It wasn't fast enough.  The munition exploded behind him and sent him flying.  He wound up with shrapnel in his legs and was awarded a Purple Heart.  He believes, though, that he isn't deserving.  It isn't that he wasn't injured, but he did nothing heroic, and he doesn't feel this his injury deserves the same award as the men and women who have lost arms, and legs.  He feels what he went through is nothing in comparison, and shouldn't be treated the same.  I respect that, though I respect the Purple Heart he was awarded as well.  He still has some of that shrapnel in his legs, and from time to time some works it way out.

I thought about my husband, who is trying his best to find a new position in this world.  I thought about how thankful I am he didn't take after my family, and end up with a Purple Heart of his own.  He has served so faithfully for the last 20 years, and I am so proud of all he has given in support of this nation.

I thought about a friend who lost her husband a few years ago, and how her life has changed.  I remembered him.  I remembered the phone call telling me that the crash we were all waiting to hear about was him.  His flight.  His helicopter.  Spending part of that night at her house, just standing there, all of us that could get there.  Not knowing what to do.  I remember mobilizing our moms group, and taking so much food every day she had to tell me to stop.  When I think of it all, my heart still breaks for her, and their children.

Other faces flash before my eyes.  People I knew of.  People My Husband knew.  People that left so much pain behind.

They gave all.

Great-full is not even enough of a word.  I doubt very seriously that there truly are words that would ever show the depth of my appreciation.  I try my best to use all the words I can to explain to my own children what today is about, not food, or beach trips.  Not grilling, or anything like that.  Today is about memories.  Today is about gratitude.  Today, is about thanks.  For without those brave men and women, we would not be the nation we are, imperfect though we may be, we are still great.  Without them, we wouldn't be at all.
So, thank you, to everyone who has ever donned the uniform and to those who were left behind when the ultimate price was paid for that freedom.  Thank you.  For all that we are, thank you.

I Don't Want Him to Go Quietly

My Husband's retirement is coming up very, very quickly.
We have been a little worried, and stressed, about getting our lives rolling, and generally looking toward building our future for a while.
There is one thing, though, from our present, soon to be our past, that really hurt me this week.
When he first found out that he hadn't made the last rank he needed, and was being forced to retire, My Husband was hurt.  He was angry.  I understand that.  This is actually a job he loves, and he is good at, and he is being forced to leave it.  While I am thrilled about no more deployments, or moves after we make our next one, leaving this life is hard.  This is all we have known together.  For the last 12 years, I have been a military fiance or wife.  My children have never known anything else.  They don't understand a civilian life, where Dad comes home every night for dinner.  They don't know a world where Mom and Dad are there for every birthday, holiday, or any special event they have.  This isn't their world.  At least, not so far.
Now, that this is all winding down, though, and we are transferring to a new life, I think we need to mark this very momentous occasion.  Normally, there would be a retirement ceremony where we could do just that.  However, going back to the point that My Husband was upset about his retirement, he refused one.
He simply said no.  Over and over again.  I ask.  Gently.  He refused.
He was ask at work, repeatedly.  He still refused.
He felt like he didn't accomplish everything that he wanted to in the time he was given.  He feels he had more to do, and more to give, and is hurt that he can't.  So, no ceremony.
Instead, there was supposed to be this beach barbecue, where he and someone else he worked with who is also retiring, were to have a simple going away party.  We could have seen him get the shadow box they are making for him.  It wouldn't have been a ceremony in uniform, but it would have been something.
Then, this week, he gets a text message, telling him that they are holding a going away party for not just the two retiring, but everyone leaving his department at work, even those just transferring out to new commands, at a local bar.  They are all lumped in together, and this is what they normally do for anyone transferring out.  No more.  No less.
I am hurt.  Truly hurt.  We get nothing.  It isn't even that I want acknowledgement of all we have gone through for us, but I want closure.  I want to see him retire.  I want to see him wear his uniform, all buttoned up and polished one more time, and I want our children to see that.  I want memories and pictures.
Instead, he will simply quietly go from being active duty, to retired.  All on paper.
No more.  No less.
I feel completely robbed.  I feel like my children have been robbed of something special, too.  I've demanded that he don the uniform for formal pictures with the family then, but that won't be the same.  Nothing will. I'll never get the chance to smile, with every once of pride I have, at him, with tears in my eyes, as they say all the traditional things they say at a retirement.  I'll never get to see my children get excited to really know that our time is over, in a very formal manor.
Its all gone, and there is nothing I can do about it.  I am a little bit heart broken.  Its a very sticky situation, too.  The last thing I want to do is make him feel worse.
For me, I guess it is just another of the many heartbreaks we have had to endure in this phase of our lives.  There are a lot of beautiful memories also, though.  As he moves without notice in to the next part, I suppose I'll just have to focus on those, scrap book all the home comings, and let that be that.  I'll move on from being a military wife, to hopefully a police wife, but you can believe that it won't be quiet.  I'm throwing my self a party, and I expect an award for survival from my friends.  Seriously.

Twenty Years On A Piece Of Paper

We are really winding down in the military phase of our transition to civilian life.  My Husband goes on terminal leave in four days.  That signifies the end of his time at work.  From that point until he is actually out of the military this summer, he has time to try to find a job, and get us moved, so that we can begin our lives all over again.
Today, though, he was able to complete one very monumental piece of the entire retirement process.  He picked up his DD214. This is the form that he will use for the rest of his life to identify his military service for anything and everything.  He as been working on it for a bit, ensuring that everything is correct from his records, etc.  He went in to pick it up, found a couple of small errors, like my name as usual, and had them corrected.  As soon as they were done, he was handed a piece of paper that means everything at the moment.  It may not seem big, but believe me, it is.  He called to tell me he had it.  It was kind of a sad moment.  "The last twenty years of my life, on one piece of paper" he said.
I know this has been hard on him.  Even though he has a very hard job, something that is full of the kind of stress you can not imagine unless you are there, and this is a hard life for us as a family, he loves what he does.  He is the kind of guy you want going into the military.  He is dedicated to his job.  He is a bit of a perfectionist when it matters.  He loves to fly.  He is fantastic at what he does, but, he has been in for 20 years, and even though his command wanted him to stay, even though they requested a waiver for him, because of all the military budget cuts, etc, he was forced to retire.
I was hurtful.  Even more so when you see some of the morons who are left in, who are allowed to move up because they kiss the right rear end, even though they don't know their own from a hole in the ground.
He moved on, though.  I think he made peace with the idea of retirement, as much as he can, once he saw how much we missed him, and began to focus on a life with his family.  Even being a police officer, which is what he wants to do, and being gone as much as they are, he will still get more time with us, than if he were to deploy for 8 months at a time again.  That really helps.
No matter what, though, this is a major move, and a major transition in his life.  He went into the military when he was 18, before he had even graduated from high school, under a delayed entry program.  This life is all he has know.  Now, at the age of 38, they reduced everything he has worked for, everything he has accomplished down to one piece of paper and handed it to him on his way out the door.
Its hard to live this life, but in many ways, it is harder to leave it.  I'm really not sure what all life will hold for our future.  I'm not even sure what state we are going to live in by this fall right now, but I do know that i have I hopes.  I hope he find a career that he loves as much as this one.  I hope he has another twenty years or more doing something else the he is so wonderful at, dedicated to, and that allows him to fulfill his potential like this one did.