daughter confused about daddy…

I expected my children to be ecstatic when we put on a recording my husband sent form Iraq, but was surprised by my 4-year-old daughter’s reaction.

We received hubby’s DVD through a program called United Through Reading, sponsored by The United Service Organization (USO) and the Family Literacy Foundation. This is how the program works: The deployed servicemember visits a USO center, the staff records him or her reading a story, and then the story book and the DVD are mailed back home.

My husband told me he was using this program, so when the package arrived I made a big fuss about daddy sending us a special DVD, and encouraged my children to be excited (mostly by being very excited myself).

When I started the recording all the kids were very close to the computer screen and seemed mesmerized. But, kids will be kids, and a few seconds into the story, the younger children — ages 1 ½ and 2 ½— got tired and moved around looking for something new to entertain them. A minute or two later, my oldest daughter and my 5 year old also started looking for other things to do. Surprisingly, my 4 year old stayed glued to the monitor for the whole recording.

At the end, she asked me: “Is this a real daddy, mommy? Our real daddy?”
“I am not sure what you mean sweetie — this is daddy,” I answered. “He recorded a video, and sent it to us. It’s your daddy.”

My daughter became more frustrated with this answer and proclaimed, “I don’t want this daddy … I want the real one! That one that was here before and I don’t want the computer daddy.”

“Is the real one coming back?” She asked with tears streaming down her tiny face.

I thought her confusion conveyed how tough it is for young children to understand interactive image versus a recording, and the feelings associated with deployments, such as separation, fear of abandonment and resentment.

As parents it’s important to acknowledge their feelings and the sacrifices they make. April is the month of the Military Child and it’s a great reminder of how precious our little ones are.

I can relate to my daughter’s frustration with technology. I tried to upload some videos to my website, not only for my work, but also in the hopes that my husband and family overseas would enjoy seeing them. I had to resort to a professional when at 2:00 a.m. the videos were still not in the right place and everything else on the site was out of place.

Oh well, I can’t really put my children on video right now, but I can certainly acknowledge all the cute little things they do and be thankful for the many wonders of technology.

Not sure if my husband wants a scalpel near that part of his anatomy?

After years of infertility, I never thought I would be blogging about birth control. Lately I have been thinking about if a more permanent birth control option is right for us as a couple. I brought this topic up to my husband and you should have seen his face. He may be a brave Marine, but he didn’t seem to brave about having a scalpel headed down there, and I wimped out when offered a similar option during my C section. I can’t take the pill or any method with progesterone, so I looked into getting an IUD but heard that it has a lot of side effects. I am curious if I am worried about the side effects, or if I am just not 100% sure I want to close that door? Military life makes family planning all the more challenging. Even if I considered wanting a fourth baby I am already 36, my husband is scheduled to gone for all of 2009, and when he gets back I will be…ugh, 38! My rational self looks at my three little blessings, realizes that parenting is a lot of work, and says close the door. My emotional self says, leave your options open. So I guess for now, I will just compromise and tell my husband to stop at the drug store on his way home.

my most complicated relationsihip…the one with food

If someone asked me, “Which relationship is your most complex?” I would confidently say the one with food.

Truthfully, eating is complicated. To varying degrees, most of us have some sort of hang up when it comes to food. It can become an obsession, a way to soothe our unmet needs, take out anger and frustration, and regulate our emotional states. In fact, complex doesn’t even come close to describing our relationship with food. Diets and diet food are a very lucrative market, one based on our inability to normalize this relationship — yet we continue to struggle.

I’m the last person who could ever say that finding a solution is simple. I dealt with an eating disorder for years, and even today try to regulate my eating.

I have observed that I often feel hungry or feel like binge eating when I am more vulnerable. For someone like me who is always trying to be in control of the house, the kids and a deployed husband, vulnerability is a no-no.

I’m aware that I’m not the only one dealing with this issue. It seems to affect everyone across age groups and even countries.

For example, my mom and my aunt came to visit me from Italy for about a week and they wanted to eat a lot of unhealthy food. Splurging on vacation is natural, who wants to constantly watch what they eat when they are having a little fun? But what struck me was how or when we ate the food. Granted, my aunt’s constant craving for biscuits, French fries and hamburgers didn’t help. But I realized that we’re eating lots of food when we discussed how home-sick I felt and their impending departure.

It was easier to stuff our mouths than to confront our feelings.

Everyone does this sometimes. Military spouses are susceptible to using food as a way to soothe their worries.

I don’t think the solution is in a “must-do-this” mentality. At least it has never worked for me. Diets, exercise and healthy habits work if they’re the outward expression of our internal change, our effort to consciously eat.

Taking a deep breath and just asking myself if I’m really hungry for the bread or the biscuits helps. Sometimes all it takes is just a few seconds and I find that I can thoroughly enjoy the food I choose for what it is, and separate it from my emotions. I just have to take the time to be aware of what I am doing and why I am doing it.

As always it’s a work in progress but it’s worth the effort when it’s about our health and well being.

Allow Myself to Introduce … Myself

Ah, nothing like the immortal words of Austin Powers to kick things off, right?

I never know how to make these biographical summaries interesting, so I’m just going to dive right in and see where we wind up:

My wife Danielle is a Navy lieutenant, and I’m a freelance writer, which is quite possibly the perfect career for a military spouse. We have a three-and-a-half-month-old son named Sean, and two six-year-old cats named Oberon and Puck (a point to the first commenter to catch the reference). I’ll turn thirty in September (yikes!).

I’ve been writing the “Man Law” column for Military Spouse magazine since January (so if you can’t get enough of my writing here, subscribe). I’m really looking forward to blogging!

Those are the basics. There’s lots more I could tell you - like that I have a problem with books, for example. That’s not to say I have a hard time reading, or anything. My problem is that I buy them. I buy a lot of them. I buy them faster than I can read them. When the movers come, their eyes grow wide in disbelief, or maybe fear.

I also have a problem with coffee.

Both of these problems can be traced back to college. Danielle and I met at the University of Michigan, where we were both English majors. English majors by their very natures have a deep and lasting love of books, and they can often be found with their noses stuffed in them while sitting in some coffee shop that offers free refills.

Those are the most important things for you to know about me before we get started. I love blogging, and I think we’ll all have plenty of fun here at the Milspouse blog.

So then, to recap: Civilian, Navy husband, Dad, Writer, Bookworm, Coffee Fiend. Any questions?

Bigger IS Better

Anyone who has known me for longer than five minutes knows I am from Texas. I’m not a “native Texan,” but I am a transplant who calls Texas home. I also don’t recycle. I know, I know, shame on me, but I have a reason.

Several years ago, before all the heightened awareness about “Going Green,” I discovered that the recycled goods I was carefully separating were in fact going to the same landfill as the trash I was NOT sorting. I refused, on principle, to recycle if “it wasn’t going to matter anyway.” Now, before everyone flames me, read on…

I was the commissary this morning and they are really pushing these “green bags” for groceries. They are .70 per bag and reusable. “Hmmm,” I thought. Seems to me if they really wanted me to use them, they’d be free. But, then, I took a closer look. I picked one up and inspected it carefully. It has the appropriate wording to make one feel good about purchasing the bag, “Keep It Green,” “For a Greener World,” etc. It even IS actually green, and with handles. What compelled me to purchase the bags was the fact that they are HUGE. I don’t mean a-little-bigger-than-the-usual-plastic-grocery sack huge, I mean, I got out of the commissary with SIX bags. That’s IT. I made it inside the house from the car in one trip!

When I got home, I thought about my purchase. $4.20 for reusable bags that are green. The plastic bags I opted out of today wouldn’t cost me anything…right? Well, maybe not monetarily, but here IS a cost for using plastic bags.

• Hundreds of thousands of sea turtles, whales and other marine mammals die every year from eating discarded plastic bags mistaken for food.
• Plastic bags don’t biodegrade, they photodegrade, breaking down into smaller and smaller toxic bits contaminating soil and waterways and entering the food web when animals accidentally ingest them.
• Plastic bags are among the 12 items of debris most often found in coastal cleanups, according to the nonprofit Center for Marine Conservation.

Whole Food ™ intends to entirely ban plastic sacks in its stores one week from today—April 22^nd, Earth Day. This action alone will keep over 100 million plastic sacks out of the environment between Earth Day and the end of the year. That’s an amazing difference.

I’m now on a mission to “Go Green.” I’m packing my green sacks in the car to use on my next weekly trip to the commissary. This is just the first of many steps for me to becoming a greener, better-educated person.

The bottom line is Bigger Is Better…not just because it saved me carrying time, but because it got me to think, and then research, about what I was doing in the big picture.

Leave the Ladder Out

Every now and then I get a comment about a particular letter I wrote in our March issue.  I thought it might be time to visit the letter again…

There are two kinds of people:  givers and takers.

In our community, I’ve seen both extremes.  There are the consummate givers, the spouses who attend each function, volunteer for every committee, always find the good in the rest of the command or neighborhood.  Then, there are the takers, the ones who’d just as soon spit in your face than shake your hand, and the gossipy, insecure ones who take every spare bit of emotional capital in the room.

I’d like to think of myself as a little bit of each.  I take liberties when necessary.   I happily take notice of my children growing and my husband’s age lines.

But, I’m also a giver.  I’ll give a helping hand when someone asks, or a shoulder to lean on when they need it.

I was given a piece of wonderful advice recently from my friend, Victoria, or V.  She was lucky enough to interview Madeleine Albright for her radio show some time ago.  Madeleine Albright made history as the first woman to become United States Secretary of State. She was nominated by President Bill Clinton and was unanimously confirmed by the United States Senate.

When I asked V what stuck with her most about the interview, she said it was a small piece of advice Madeleine Albright offered her.  After an extensive dialogue, V quotes her as saying, “When you get to the top of the ladder, don’t pull it in after yourself.”

How often we forget to lend a helping hand to those who are coming after us.  How quickly we move on, with ladder in hand, to the next mountain or obstacle, so concerned with ourselves and our own lives that we fail to give notice to anyone else’s.  How easily we revel in our own successes forgetting that others could use a lift up, not a kick to the face as the proverbial ladder is yanked from their grasp.

As fellow military spouses, it is our collective responsibility to look out for one another, to impart our knowledge for the benefit of all.  It is part of our obligation to ensure we are doing our best for progression of us a whole, not just one person, group or organization.

The bottom line is that for all of us to reach the top we have to use the same ladder.  So, to paraphrase the advice given, lend a hand, leave the ladder out.

Reprinted from MSM, 2008 March, with permission.

Uncle Sam must be laughing

Before I begin today’s post, let me refer you back to an earlier entry I made on February 28th of this year titled Uncle Sam’s Darts. In said entry, I recounted Dustin coming home one day, long after we had already made our “wish list” for our next duty station, and telling me that he had just added Bangor, Maine to the list, which I still thought, at this point, was only in the rough-draft stages.

Here’s an excerpt from what happened next:

I said to Dustin, “Let’s sit down tonight and go over the ‘options,’ and then make a list of our first, second and third choices.”

And he said, “Oh, well, actually….I already turned in my list today.”

I went on to say that because Dustin didn’t include me in the final decision-making, he had just sealed his fate as the sole reason for any discomfort I might feel at the new duty station because I would always be able to say, “If only you had let me see the list before you turned it in….”

And then I mentioned something about probably freezing my @$$ off in Bangor, Maine, and it being Dustin’s fault.

“But I listed Bangor as number 7 of 7, Sarah,” Dustin said. “There’s very little chance we’ll end up there.”

On April Fool’s Day, just over a month after the “Bangor Incident,” Dustin came home, pulled out a chair and said, “I think you should sit down for this.”

“We’re going to the west coast again, aren’t we?” I said.

Dustin twisted up his face, smiled apologetically, and said, “The boys have always wanted to see snow, haven’t they?”

Yep. We’re going to Bangor, Maine. Can you believe my luck? It’s the city we fought over that day when I found out Dustin had turned in the “final” list without showing it to me first. It’s the city Dustin threw onto the list before I even knew it existed as an “option.” It’s the city I have been using during the weeks since to antagonize Dustin: “You’re going to be awfully cold in Maine, Dustin.” “When you’re shoveling 20-feet of snow, will you think about us here in Florida?”

However, after alot of crying and wondering if this could be reasonable grounds for divorce, I have come to a place of acceptance, and yes, even excitement about the adventures that await us in Maine. Mainly: (1) Stephen King lives there, and (2) I won’t have to wear a bathing suit. But also: skiing, Portland, LL Bean, Moosehead Lake, Acadia National Park, trips to Canada, trips to Boston, and, of course, throwing snowballs at Dustin.

I think Uncle Sam is having a very good laugh at this. Or maybe Dustin’s detailer. Either one.

more separations ….

My husband and I made some important decisions in the last few weeks. After many months of deployments it seems that he has to go for one year of training for the new aircraft he’ll pilot. The training is split in two different locations and once he’s done he’ll more than likely deploy again.

Unfortunately, he only has a couple of weeks when he gets back from Iraq and then he is off again. Hubby has insisted that the family go with him at least to one location because we have a chance to be together.

I resisted the idea uprooting all six kids, getting settled in new schools, or maybe even home-schooling for the few months we are with him, to then move again seemed impossible.

The hardest part of this minor ordeal has been trying to communicate on a regular basis. Whenever we are able to speak we try to squeeze everything into a short conversation. This isn’t the best way to make decisions and we have had numerous tense discussions about our plans.

I started to resent my husband’s request that we move with him and felt that he couldn’t possibly understand where I was coming from or how hard it would be for me to move six children seven-years-old and under, including one of them, Matteo, with special needs and health issues.

Perhaps the last few weeks of my pregnancy coupled with my husband’s long absence, made me edgier — to say the least.

I felt stuck.

Nothing could have helped me make my decision and adopt a more cheery attitude than my oldest daughter coming into my room at 6:00 a.m. yelling that “there are some Air Force guys outside our door.”

Not good. Definitely not good.

I jumped out of bed and my first thought was that something happened to my husband, that he was probably dead. It was bizarre how I felt completely detached from any emotion but proceeded to put my clothes on and go by the door to greet my visitors.

It turned out that these two Airmen dressed in their blues came to tell me that a bear had knocked down our garbage and that food and diapers were flying all over the place including around our cars. We’ve had problems with a black bear visiting our neighborhood. And even though it was very early, I was glad for their promptness in offering to help and in cleaning up the whole mess.

After they left, I seemed to have no problems making my decision. If something had happened to my husband, our family’s lives would have changed in ways that I don’t even want to imagine. If I have a chance for our family to be together I have to go for it, even if it means facing a logistical nightmare.

I am grateful to have the opportunity to choose whether to go with him or not and with my new resolve I felt a rush of emotions for him, the hard work he puts in, and our many blessings.

Because truthfully, one day I may very well get the knock on the door, or the phone call from the hospital, or the visit by the sheriff at my door, and I may regret that I didn’t seize every moment I had with the people I love.

Coming to terms with being away…

Last week, my grandmother died. Mom-mom was a wonderful woman, with faults that only made her personality come to life even more. She always held firm to her purse, even at the Christmas Eve service, for fear someone would rob her. She called obsessively until the check she sent for birthdays cleared. She loved my Pop-pop so much that she never really could move on after his death ten years ago. We all loved her.

I’ve been crying since I found out about her heart attack two weeks ago. I called over and over, waiting to hear that she was going to be okay. I finally heard her voice and broke down in tears of desperation that just wanted to hold her one last time. I knew she was afraid of dying and I knew I couldn’t be there for her. It broke my heart.

The last thing she said to me was that I needed to take care of our little angel, Lorelei. Mom-mom was more concerned about my daughter’s upcoming heart surgery than her last moments of life. She died on Easter Saturday at 1:00 in the morning- the same time that I woke with a start and called my husband while he was on duty in a panic. I didn’t know about her death until the next morning and, even with everything she’d been through, I was still surprised. And heartbroken.

Now here I sit, wondering what else I will miss because we are so far away from home and cannot travel with my daughter’s health in critical condition. I know the sacrifices we make for our country, but this one feels so empty. I really loved her. My father really loved her and I wanted to be there for him, but we just couldn’t.

Please, anyone…tell me how to come to terms with this feeling of loss? Tell me the things that I already know but just need to hear because I don’t want to feel alone in my time of mourning. Tell me ways to cope so I can make her death meaningful and not feel like the granddaughter who abandoned her Mom-mom when she most needed her…

…over and out…

Excuses from the Edge of Insanity

I know it’s been quite a while since my last blog entry, but I do have a couple of good excuses for my absence.

Excuse #1: Since my husband and I don’t live together like “normal” married couples, even when he’s not deployed; I occasionally take time off from life to fly to where he is for a conjugal visit. So that’s where I’ve been part of the time.

Excuse #2: The Army has totally kicked us while we were down, which has sucked butt and I’m still horked off about it. The bad thing is I am taking it out on my husband and it’s not his fault. And I know that if I’m doing this, I know that there are other spouses out there in the blogosphere who have felt and acted the same way as I am – which is like a spoiled three year-old having a tantrum when the parent says “no you can’t have that toy.” I really want to jump up and down screaming until my face turns red and steam comes out of my ears. But that behaviour is not cool coming from a thirty-five year-old woman. Which means I have to act like an adult even though I really, really want to throw that freaking tantrum.

The reason for the tantrum: The Army assignment guy is making my husband choose between an assignment to Korea, and a two-year long company command. I don’t think I need to emphasize to anyone reading this that both options suck dog doodie. This totally bites because my DH has been home from Iraq less than six months. Both “choices” mean going very long periods of time – yet again – without being able to see him.

I am so close to having that proverbial melt-down that so many wives have had over the past five or six years, where so many of us have decided “Enough, I want off this ride; it’s not worth it anymore.” I’m right on that edge and it won’t take much to push me over it right now.

A week ago, right after being informed of this “choice” by my husband; I hosted a pity-party for one at my house. Yesterday I finally managed to recover from my Cadbury Egg and Margarita induced coma. Yes - I was so emotionally traumatized that I mixed chocolate and margaritas, which is not a combination found in nature and should never be duplicated. Ever.Again.

Excuse #3: I’m am still recovering from kidney failure and trying like hell to keep my acute kidney failure from becoming chronic kidney failure – which is the kind you don’t want. This entails pretty stringent attention to my diet and lots of exercise to help keep my blood pressure down. I was doing okay with controlling my blood pressure until the last two weeks (see excuse #2 for reasons why). Now I’m back on a very light dose of pills to try and get it back down.

Excuse #4: It’s officially spring, which means it’s finally time to get into the yard and start spring clean up. So that’s where all my free daylight hours are being spent right now. This is doubly hard when your spouse is absent and can’t help you. It also does not help to have a golden retriever who thinks it’s fun to run through the piles of leaves and debris after you’ve raked it up into neat piles.

Excuse #5:My work life has not exactly been sunshine, roses, rainbows and fabric softener farts lately. I find myself questioning why I took this position and what I had hoped to gain by it. But that’s enough of that, I try very hard to keep my work life and personal life separate and I haven’t been doing so well with that goal lately.

So that’s where I’ve been and what’s been going on with me, I’ll try to be around more, if nothing else so you guys can pull me out my funk now and again.