My Life is Not My Own

I had two hours set aside to get my hair cut and colored today. Two measly little hours. That’s all I wanted. A babysitter situation (or lack there of) meant that I had to take my kids — all three of them — to the salon with me. Imagine walking into a salon where they play soft music and burn scented candles with three boys ages 7, 5 and 16-months.

Usually, Danielle, my hairdresser, and I enjoy our two hours of catching-up on each other’s lives. We share funny stories and talk about the latest books we’ve read. But not today. Today, Danielle busily painted, foiled, washed, rinsed, cut and dried my hair while I managed a three-ring circus on my right. Lindell, the baby, took every last item out of my purse and scattered it across the floor. Owen, 5, who was wearing white football pants that I’m sure he didn’t realize were translucent, picked his nose until it bled. Ford, 7, rolled on the floor and complained that he was hungry. Sweat poured down my temples by the time Danielle had my foils finished. I had threatened to take away the boys’ XBox priveleges, and then followed through with that threat shortly thereafter. I had snapped my fingers, flashed the “mommy face,” and snarled under my breath.

I can honestly say that I have no idea what Danielle was wearing today, and I can’t remember the color of her hair (it changes often). That’s because I hardly looked at Danielle. I was too busy threatening my children.

At the end of the two hours, I hugged Danielle goodbye and said, “Gosh, I really hope we can catch up soon.”

Here is someone who was so physically close to me for the duration of two hours that she noticed the pimple in my hairline, and yet it was like we had hardly seen each other at all. Which kind of reminds me of going out to dinner with my husband now that we have children. Eight years ago, Dustin and I could enjoy a meal together and talk uninterrupted. Now, even though we might sit directly next to or across from one another at a table, we are miles apart as we both deal with cutting up chicken tenders, opening ketchup packets, and saving fallen binkies from the dirty floor.

Just the other day I said to Dustin, “When was the last time we had dinner together?”

But we have dinner together every night.

I rephrased that with, “When was the last time we gave each other our undivided attention?”

We couldn’t remember.

I wanted to end this post with something clever and funny. But I can’t. One son has just gotten out of bed (again), and the other one wants a drink. Dustin needs his flight suit cleaned before morning, and the dishes in the sink aren’t washing themselves…….

how much to really say in a blog?

Lately there has been a lot of talk about mommy bloggers and the content of these blogs. I have read some of these blogs and have to tell you that they are entertaining and a bit racy.

The Today Show had a segment on these moms and the amount of money they make is unreal - a woman was making $40,000 a month in ad revenues! Wow, I would love to join that club.

I was talking to my husband about my desire to change my blog to something more racy or, I don’t know, nasty - of course there is always the interest in sex and personal details about the bad stuff we do or say when non one is looking - he didn’t seem too keen on it. He said he would feel very uncomfortable about it, “you absolutely cannot do it” - his words.

I think we have to be even more careful because we are military families and cannot reveal details online for the protection of our husbands and family. I guess this still leaves the question of how much to talk about our family life minus the spouses’ job.

For example, I read in one of these blogs that a woman spent some intimate time with her husband (I cannot even paraphrase the details of the story…) and the next day someone approached her at the store to ask her about her blog. I think I would feel embarrassed. But then again I don’t make $40,000 a month so that may soften the blow.

I guess everyone decides where they draw the line…I just haven’t figured out where I draw mine.

What do you think?

I was just adopted

My biological mother died when I was a baby. When my dad remarried my mom now she didn’t adopt me because my father wasn’t really supportive of the idea. This always bothered my mom, but this year she decided to do something about it and she and I initiated an adult adoption. Even though I am 36 years old we went through the motions of a formal adoption. We had to do the home visit (kind of pointless because I haven’t lived at home for 18 yrs.) a physical, and go to court. As a life coach, I love when people take care of the things that they have always wanted to tackle but haven’t and being officially adopted is a great example of “better late than never!”. I am so happy that my mom and I did this and it made this years mother’s day so special to me.

Notes From Moving Hell

Hello from the depths of housecleaning, clearing, yard sales, boxes, attics, and please-don’t-walk-on-the-floors-because-I-just-mopped-them-and-someone-might-come-look-at-the-house-today.

Dustin and I haven’t moved in five years. That’s pretty unusual for a military family. Now we are moving to Bangor, Maine. And, well, I think I know why Uncle Sam normally keeps us on the go: when you stay in one place too long, you acquire too much junk!

Keeping our house “show ready” is near impossible with three — no make that four — boys living under one roof. You can only straighten baseball cleats and flight boots so many times before you want to poke a sharp object in your eye. I spend a large majority of my days lately making sure our house appear as if no one lives in it (per our Realtor’s orders). Each morning, I make the rounds to flush toilets (why, oh why, is it so hard to remember to flush the toilet?), put socks in the hamper, hide the XBox, and flip the pillow to the side that hasn’t been drooled on. But that’s just to clean up after my husband. For the kids, I must also rinse toothpaste off the toothbrushes, put the toilet paper back on the roll, and put eye patches with skull and cross bones on them back into the drawer.

So you can imagine my frustration when the Realtor stops by to say hello and check on things, and he says, “Is there a little bit of dust on those fan blades?”

Now I’d like to stick sharp objects in the Realtor’s eyes. Just as soon as I get done flushing toilets.

Being Neighborly

Our years in the Navy have exposed us to our fair share of interesting neighbors. There was the guy in Navy housing who would haul our trash from our backyard to the curb every trash day and occasionally bring us a fish he’d speared from his kayak. Then there was the woman who lived with so many animals that the city of Norfolk mandated that she declare her household to be a farm and buy the requisite licenses. When she moved out, the ’snake charmers’ moved in; they bred snakes to sell on eBay. I wrote about my nice college student neighbors and how I felt like an old fuddy-duddy for calling the cops on them in my first ever column for Military Spouse way back in January.

Now that the school year is over, I’m dreading the looming summer weekends that will likely bring a new batch of weekend partiers every week. They come from New Jersey, New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts, and they come to party.

Last summer I had to walk next door four or five times to ask that the music be turned down. Every time it was a different crowd, and every time they were nice about it, but that’s not the point. The point is that it was 2 A.M.

People should be asleep at 2 A.M.

We live in a town that’s a popular vacation spot. We knew that going into the deal, but I wasn’t prepared for the culture clash between the year-rounders on the street and the vacationers. One night in particular illustrates the difference:

After lying sleepless for over an hour, I finally drifted off to sleep only to be awakened again a short time later by Danielle, who hadn’t managed to get to sleep at all. She was barely hanging on to reason. I sensed extreme tiredness and adrenaline-induced edginess and decided to do something about the situation. So, still half-asleep, I put on a pair of jeans and a T-shirt and flipflops and walked next door.

Someone at the top of the stairs waved me up. He didn’t have a clue who I was, and he didn’t care. Upstairs I found a large room with a stereo in it and a table where people played beer pong. I tried to tell someone that I wasn’t there to party, but no one was listening. I finally got the attention of a random guest, and I told her I lived next door. My meaning gradually dawned on her. ‘Oh, you live next door. Like all the time.’ Yes, I said, and my wife is pregnant. She kindly went to turn the music down and pass on the message. Then the host of this summer soirée offered me a beer, which I politely declined.

See, they were on vacation, so they thought everyone must be on vacation.

Oh the joys of the military family’s nomadic lifestyle. I’m sure everyone has some good stories about the neighbors they’ve had over the years.

Happy Mil-Spouse Day

Sorry I have posted in a while….we had an unexpected homecoming, and then leave. Yeah! I have missed writing and connecting with all of you. I just had to hop on here tonight and send of message of love and encouragement to all the Military Spouses!

May 9th is Military Spouse Appreciation Day and I just wanted to wish you a happy and special day. Your sacrifices while living this lifestyle do not go unnoticed or unappreciated

*Cheers to you*

For Immediate Release
May 6, 2008

President Bush Commemorates Military Spouse Day
South Lawn

THE PRESIDENT: Thank you very much, Phil. I appreciate — appreciate you and your band members being here today. Thanks for entertaining us here on the South Lawn of the White House. (Applause.) We are so glad you have come. We’re honoring six recipients of the President’s Volunteer Service Awards. And as we do so, we celebrate the contributions and achievements of our military spouses all across the country.

more

ON a side note….Babette has got my mind turning with her request on writing a story with the topic *Sex*…..(WoW!)….Im thinking I might take a crack at it…..you should too!

Back Up Your Hard Drive!

Do you have a digital camera? Do you store your pictures on your family computer? How about home movies? E-mails from your deployed spouse?

Now, do you keep a backup of the hard drive that stores all of it?

The other night I was watching a movie online via Netflix’s really cool Watch Instantly feature. In the middle of the movie I got an error message. So I called the Netflix customer support number as directed in the error, and the technician told me how to fix it. When I asked what had happened, he told me it was ‘probably just a corrupt file.’

Those words — ‘corrupt file’ — got me worrying about the computer’s hard drive. Sure enough, shortly after I had dealt with the first error, another program failed and a new message popped up telling me Windows needed to run a scan on the hard drive.

I went into panic mode. I don’t backup this computer, a laptop, as often as I probably should. Most of our digital photos and other important family files are stored on a different computer that gets backed up weekly. But there were about a hundred new photos stored on the laptop, and because of the damaged areas on the hard drive, I did lose a couple of them.

I was able to get a new hard drive at the Navy Exchange that copied everything off the damaged hard drive using software included in the package. Then I installed the new drive in my computer, and it was as good as new.

If you’re not the computer genius in your family (and genius is a relative term when you’re talking about computers), get someone to help you. Most communities have local businesses who can help you figure out the back-up process. Best Buy and Circuit City locations also often have people who can help.

If you are inclined to do it yourself, there are a lot of websites that explain how to backup your computer. At a minimum you will need to buy an external hard drive, preferably one that includes automatic backup software. If you really want to be protected, you need two external drives: one for weekly backups at home, and another to keep at your office (or anywhere that’s not your house). Once a month, bring the drive home, do a backup, and then bring it back to the office. This is to protect you in the event of a fire, theft, or some other major disaster in your home.

I was lucky to only lose a couple of photos. Learn from my mistake and start backing up your computer today.

For All Military Spouses

So, here’s the deal. We are starting a new writing program for MilSpouse.com. As most of you know, we update new content each day. Every day, three new articles appear on the site and each week we send out a newsletter to let you know what those articles and topics will be. With the overwhelming response we have had to interested writers, and the compelling stories we’ve received, we have drafted a system that allows us to hand select stories for the website content. We’d like to begin posting topic ideas and have registered site users submit their 250-400 word articles by clicking here:

http://www.milspouse.com/submitstory.aspx

Then, check back on Wednesday to see what articles we’ve posted. As always, we preserve OPSEC and PERSEC. If you don’t want your last name or duty station used, please specify that in your submission.

Guidelines? Nothing is off limits. Speak from your heart, be candid in your writing and know that other spouses will be drawn to what YOU say.

So, for this week, let’s talk about sex, baby. What are your issues, what challenges have you faced, what have you done to overcome the distance. Remember, I can omit your name, if you want. (wink)

Topic: SEX

Guidelines: No Holds Barred, 250-400 words

Submit: http://www.milspouse.com/submitstory.aspx

mental health for military

I asked my husband and some of his military friends whether they would seek mental health counseling. At least 99 percent, including my husband, answered with a resounding no.

I know there are many individuals who see mental health professionals, but military men and women don’t willingly pick up the phone and ask for a referral to a psychologist or counselor.

Seeking help this way is perceived as weak, or worse, harmful to their careers.

It’s not a simple issue. The military culture requires men and women to act “tough”; to place country and honor first, beyond their safety and their desire to be home; to live in dangerous war zones for months at a time with the concrete possibility that they may loose their lives; to see death and cruelties on a daily basis. Our military has to do the job, no matter the cost because we depend on them.

It’s not surprising that with this amount of pressure servicemembers may be reluctant to admit that they struggle with an issue or that they need help.

But when we deal with trauma, post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) and the many anxiety-related disturbances that afflict our military personnel, seeking mental help becomes fundamental, if not imperative, to continue functioning.

Changes come about slowly but society and our leaders realize the importance of this issue. Defense Secretary Robert Gates recently announced a new policy that should encourage, or at least make it less difficult for troops to seek mental health counseling. The change specifically relates to Question 21, required by the Office of Personnel Management for security clearances. Presently, servicemembers are asked if they have sought mental health counseling in the last seven years, and if so they must provide names, addresses and dates of the counseling sessions. The question should be amended in a way that will make it possible not to reveal all of the sessions received.

This is one of the many initiatives aimed at encouraging service men and women to seek help. Last year, the Army held special sessions to teach Soldiers how to recognize mental health problems in themselves and their friends.

The Navy and the Army also increased the amount mental health professionals available at primary care centers, so the long referral process for servicemembers who want help is eliminated. Navy Surgeon General Vice Admiral Adam Robinson explained that “if we embed mental health professionals with our men and women on a daily basis, stigma goes down.”

I know that a shift in our perception of mental health will take time but it will eventually happen.

I recently spoke with my husband, who is currently deployed, and told him that I went to a workshop presented by my psychologist called, “Illuminating the Shadow.” It was for women and we cried, shared personal issues and got in touch with our dark sides. I told hubby that the next workshop will be open to men and he half jokingly told me that he couldn’t think of anything more painful than to sit and talk about “emotions” with a bunch of strangers.

I have a sense that even my husband will change his mind. With five daughters he will have lots of emotions to deal with.

asking my children if they are immigrants

I attempted to sign up my children for swimming lessons this week. And, I would have succeeded except that — out of curiosity —I decided to ask the owner of the gym a question about the forms she gave me to fill out.

The forms had the usual, name, age, address, and telephone number fields followed by four identical spaces for each of the children’s biographical information with a puzzling question: Is the child a US citizen?

I was surprised by the fact that someone would ask this question for swimming lessons. This wasn’t a public pool or a place where kids received funding or free classes, or a government or state run program where this information would be pertinent. No, this was a private swimming club, so I politely asked this lady why they were interested in the children’s citizenship.

Almost immediately, the owner of the aquatic center got very defensive and told me that she had every right to put the question on the form, and that people were way too politically correct and sensitive about these things.

Well, maybe she had a point. Actually two points: Whether we agree with an issue or not, people are more sensitive about race, gender, and sexual orientation. And, as the owner of the establishment and she can pretty much do whatever she wants to, with some limitations.

But, I became irritated when the owner explained that this question was crucial in keeping the clientèle of her establishment up to a certain level. She knowingly looked at me and added, “Do you know what I mean?”

I knew what she meant but refused to acknowledge it, so I asked if non-U.S. citizens could take swimming lessons.

To my shock she responded, “It depends.”

On what? The nation the immigrant actually comes from?

I laughed because I wasn’t sure how to express my annoyance, and before I could say anything else this lady told me that I had no idea what immigrants are doing to this country and how they’re destroying and depleting “our” resources, and that she couldn’t and wouldn’t allow certain people to infiltrate her club.

I informed her that even though I am a U.S. citizen, I am an immigrant myself and won’t “infiltrate” her pool. She did tell me that it would still be ok for me and the kids to use the pool, but I didn’t want to frequent the establishment.

As I left, I saw the club had several signs expressing support for the military and discounts for military families. I wondered if me being a foreigner and a military spouse would make her re-examine her beliefs. Probably not.

I didn’t take this woman’s ranting personally, but I realized how difficult it is to change our minds when we define a person based on a stereotype.

My children didn’t get their swimming lessons, but they did learn that I am a “immgrant” and that the lady at the pool doesn’t like “immigrants.” They concluded that it’s better to look for another pool, one that has slides, waterfalls and giant Disney characters.