Tag pcs

The Magic of Home

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Eric and I scanned the last of our earthly belongings comparing it with the quickly deteriorating space in the truck and had to make some fast decisions.

“The chairs are going, aren’t they?” I asked, knowing full well the answer.

“‘Fraid so,” he said.

All of our belongings in a 26′ truck

I turned away when I saw him briskly carry the happy blue pair to the spontaneous free yard sale accumulating at the edge of the curb. They’ll be happier here in the warm San Diego sun, I thought. Good thing we are doing this before school lets out, as there will be lots foot traffic to carry away the things we cannot take with us. The little boy that yelled exuberantly about his new-to-him bike as he rode it away made me grin. Jake had been eating his knees on that bike for a few months now and it was time to let it go anyway. That’s what the song says, right? Let it go, let it go…..

It’s just stuff.

I stopped short when I saw our aqua Adirondack chairs nestled happily in their new yard. It was bittersweet giving them away. It was bittersweet walking the dogs this very last time in our San Diego neighborhood. I breathed it in. I noticed all the palm trees, took in the view down toward Mission Bay, and closed my eyes and sighed as the sun warmed my skin.

We started on our adventure a half day behind as we had some finishing up at the old house to complete. One last check of the mail box, roll up the garbage and recycling cans, and turn over the keys.

We had big plans to make it up to Washington in three days. With 3 dogs, 2 kids and me who gets what I call “car-koleptic” (extremely tired when driving in the rain) we knew our plans were way too aggressive. Once again I was reminded that I could never be a long haul trucker.

As California’s terrain changed from desert, vineyards and then finally to forested mountains, I found myself awed by the beauty of it all. I pointed out things to the kids. Miraculously the sights were stunning enough to tear their eyes from their iPods. “Ohhhh, wowww….” could be heard from both of them. I forgot just how little they were when we left this part of the country. “They don’t remember,” I thought sadly. Climbing higher into the mountains, and into Oregon, I chuckled when the car sounded an alert as the temperature was now below 40 degrees. This alarm came complete with a cute flashing snowflake on my dashboard. Poor car has never seen anything below 60 degrees! I tapped the dash and murmured, ‘Good little car, you’re doing fine!’

I grew up in the Puget Sound, but after moving out of state the first time, I was shocked by the heat and the humidity of Florida. “So that’s what that ball of fire in the sky is!” I joked when regaling people of the transition to the Sunshine state from the renowned rainy Seattle area. I have loved living all over the country, and yes, Hawaii has ruined us for all states. There is just something about the Pacific Northwest. It pulls me back in ways I can scarcely describe.

I tend to agree with Bon Jovi. Who says you can’t go home? Maybe not the way it was, but a place makes you who you are in ways that are non-tangible. Living away has given me a perspective that would not exist if I’d never left. There is breathtaking beauty here. The allure of the forests, the captivating mists – it’s magic pure and simple.

Hannah’s camera was clicking fast and furious as we traveled. I was curious what gems may be hidden on her device when she was reluctant to let me see. She had been working furiously on something, but promised she would share it with me when she was done.

Hannah’s project

Make no mistake, there is a kind of magic here – and I believe it has enchanted my daughter.

Gratitude, Always

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There is tired, and then there’s tired. The kind of tired you feel when you have done way more than there is time for, more than you’d planned, and are sleep deprived on top of it all. It’s the kind of tired you feel when you have to tuck your chin down, keep your feet moving and focus only on the task in front of you.

“Just one more thing. Just get through this,” I told myself as I daydreamed of sleep, looking forward to when this was all over. The truck was getting packed, little by little. The ultimate adult Tetris game being playing by my master-packer husband as oddly shaped belongings filled tiny niches here and there. I wondered as we do every move about the necessity of so much stuff.

For a person who really doesn’t like moving (and the associated stress), it’s ironic that we are a military family. There are aspects about it that I do enjoy; the setting up of a new house, arranging things, and the adventure of it . The part I detest? The packing and the cleaning of the old house. All the nitty gritty cleaning – baseboards, windows, blinds, and ovens. Not my favorite at all.

This move is hitting our little deep-feeler daughter hard. She is very melancholy, expressing her desire to go back to Texas as that is the only home she really remembers. I comfort her the best I can and remind her that it’s okay to feel yucky and whatever which way she feels about all of this. That feelings are what they are and the best way to get through these patches is to just wade right into them and feel them. You can’t avoid the bitter-sweetness, the frustration, and the sadness. The only way is to go through.

Our last night in the mostly-empty house, we did what we usually do. We read a bit of our book, currently book 3 of The Chronicles of Narnia. As I finished, nestled between 2 kids and 3 dogs in our king bed, both kiddos wanted to chat instead of the usual pleading of ‘just one more chapter!’

“What do you want to talk about?” I asked.

“The move,” my daughter quietly replied. The volume of her voice inversely proportionate to the weight of what’s on her heart and mind.

Ever putting the positive spin on hard things, I reminded myself of what I’d explained to her earlier, that the only way through hard things, is to go through them.

“Okay, how about this,” I prompted, “What if we start by each saying 3 things that really suck about moving?”

“YES!!!” they both giggled and begged to be the first to rattle off their yuck list. Hannah asked to swear out loud once. Why not? If that’s how you feel, get it out!

Their frustrations and heartaches vented, as well as mine, we moved on to our gratitude list, things we are thankful for or that give us comfort. All of us agreed the dogs are at the top of that list. Jacob was thankful for his computer and Minecraft, as always. Hannah snuggled in close and ticked off her list.

Exhausting their lists, it was my turn. My over-tired mind contemplated the things I was grateful for. There were so many things. “I’m thankful for the way homeschooling has opened up our schedule to more flexibility,” I began. “I love that no matter what four walls surround us, be it a hotel room, a new house in a different state, home is where the 7 of us are.” They nodded their agreement.

As they drifted off to the last sleep in our house, I was thinking of the tiny little rambler that fit us so well. The morning sun I’d marveled at as it streamed in across the floor each morning, the proximity to the beach, walking paths lined with jacaranda trees and birds of paradise, and a large back yard for the dogs flooded my sleepy brain. A hardworking husband that continued packing well into the wee hours of the night, the ability to see that we were making progress, and the knowledge that this phase doesn’t last forever all came to mind.

“Thank you,” I whispered to the quiet house. “Thank you.”

Resilience

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We always say it’s not going to happen. We’ll be there for each other, even after they move. Or we move. Or we both are flung to opposite sides of the world.

And we swear, “This time. This time will be different. This time we’ll really stay in touch.”

Military friends are a special breed.

Ever so slowly, life happens. New friends slip in to our lives, boots on the ground, in the current duty station, in your every day life friends. While they open our hearts again, it becomes more challenging to keep up with kids and day-to-day stuff and maintain all those long distance friendships. They seem to get lost somewhere in the everydayness of our new home, among new friends. And we get lost in the memories of their new place.

The calls are replaced with texts. Texts start out frequent, but slowly fade to weekly occurrences, check-ins. More and more of the detail of their daily lives are missed and so it goes. Then it’s merely pictures on social media. Those pictures of their new life without you in it, those are so bittersweet.

They sting just a little. And once again you remind yourself that it’s all part of the process. This breaking of hearts. Sometimes it’s a wonder that we do this not only once, but many times over and over, risking, grieving, and being open again.

As we got up this morning from air mattresses on the empty floor, the moving truck having left the day prior, Hannah quietly asked, “Mom, can we do the ‘Why I love moving, by Hannah’ thing?”

We do this ritual in our family where I say, ‘I love Hannah because, by Mommy’ and then list out all the reasons and things I love about her. Eric and I even did this practice before the kids were born. Items on the list include big things, but also very specific things, and current milestones etc. It’s a tangible way to say “I love you. I see you. Just as you are.”

As she asked to do this and apply it to moving, I was struck by how resilient and strong she really is. This has been a tough week for the little emotional heartbeat of our family. She loves fiercely, and her heart breaks with the same passion. She listed her positives of moving – we all did. Hannah reminded us that while the sky may be overcast – the sun still shines, regardless of whether we can see it or not.

Kids are so dang resilient.

Hearts are resilient.

Tender hearts that are open enough to get broken, repeatedly, are among the strongest ones.

Fair winds and following seas, Corpus Christi!

Ready

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To say I hate bugs would be an understatement. I’ve dealt with cane spiders (the size of my hand!), centipedes, and B52 bomber cockroaches in Hawaii, large and small spiders that crawl up the bath drain in Washington, water moccasins and fire ants in Florida and of course the beloved scorpions, mutant mosquitoes, crickets, wolf spiders and of course roaches here in Texas. Bugs are a part of life. And big ones are a part of life the closer to the equator we live.

I had bailed on our bike ride, not going near as far as we usually go, basically going as fast as I dared pushed them on their poor little legs. I sat in the tub as the tears came down my cheeks after having stripped off my workout clothes is a frenzied panic while the dogs watched, curious at my odd behavior. I looked down at my skin now covered in bites that were quickly becoming large welts as I frantically scraped my nails across my skin. Mosquitoes had swarmed me. Even in the breeze the insects clung to my skin, undeterred in their bloody mission. I really hate bugs. Like I probably have a phobia or something. I let the tears fall as I realized I was just mostly pissed off. Sometimes emotions just come up like that.

86 mosquito welts bring up the fact that I’m irritated.

I’m not in the place I want to be.

But here I am. I will continue to be here for a while longer, then I will leave, grateful for the light at the end of…

the school year

Corpus

humidity

Texas

deployment

the south

all the bugs

…the tunnel.

PCS Like a Four Year Old

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I wrote this post a few weeks ago as a submission to another blog. They have passed, so I am posting it here.

Sitting in the Navy Lodge smack dab in the midst of house hunting in our new duty station, it would be so easy to have a pity party. I want to have that party. I want to roll around in the “Ugh, not again!” and the “Oh my goodness we have so much STUFF!” I want to cry because we’ve left everything familiar, just when it was getting familiar (AGAIN). But I have little ones who are watching and gauging just how to process this life-upheaval, so I can’t stay at the party for long.

We all handle a duty station transfer differently, but I’d love to experience it like my 4-year-old. This is what a military move looks like to her:

The Pool

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Hotel stops along the way are all about the pool! Does this hotel have a pool? Can we pleeeeease get a hotel with a pool tonight? When will we be going swimming? Can we swim tonight and tomorrow before we leave? Please, please, please?! You’d think she was part mermaid or something. Perhaps being born in Hawaii has something to do with it…

Sleeping Whenever, Where Ever You Are

 

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A nice air-conditioned ride, just enough road noise to dull the senses, a full tummy and a well-timed potty stop all coincide for the perfect nap! Swimming goggles are optional.

Make It An Epic “Adventure”

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“Camping at a KOA along the way?! No problem! I’m so up for that Mom! I love the tent! I will run around like a crazy person with my brother while you and dad try not to scream while putting it up!”

Stairs (and other ‘inconveniences’)

IMG_6648And I quote, “This is the best day ever!” as she was lugging up our toiletry case up stairs in a hotel that had multiple floors with no elevator. (Seriously?! Why are hotels with multiple floors built without elevators!?)

Throughout this transition, she has never once worried about where we will stay, how house hunting will go, or what life will be like when we get ‘there’. She’s in the moment, enjoying what comes her way. Instead of her watching me, gauging my reactions to life’s upheavals, perhaps I should take a cue from her:

1. Enjoy the ride

2. Take what comes, even if I don’t like it or think it’s inconvenient and make the best of it.

3. Get up each morning excited about what ‘adventure’ may await.

4. Sleep like the dead.

5. Swim every chance you get!

What a PCS Move Feels Like

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A PCS move, or military transfer, is a common thread for us active duty folks. Moving every 2-3 years for many of us, is simply part of the deal. There are those few lucky ones that may get to stay in one place for a couple of tours consecutively, but that isn’t how it goes all the time. We’ve bounced around the country for over a decade and are just about to move into our 8th home. (I still hope for orders to Italy or England, but by the sound of my husband’s laughter, it’s not a very likely possibility!)

This particular move has been drawn out the longest. All together, we’ll have lived out of our suitcases for 50 days. It’s quite a time to be nomads, particularly if you are a natural homebody like myself. We of course market the journey as an adventure to our minions, and in some ways, it really is. All the “life is what you make it”, “bloom where you’re planted”, and “home is where the navy sends us” platitudes apply. I believe these things about 95% of the time. I consider ourselves fortunate to have lived in the places we have and have met incredible friends along the way.

That remaining 5%? Yeah, that’s where I’m at now. The anticipation, the waiting for the household goods to arrive, the dream of sleeping in my own bed again (in sheets washed in my own washer) are the thoughts currently occupying my mind. That 5% is the yuckiness, the blahs. The sick of eating out. The “I can’t wait for our first home cooked meal!” and bringing back the familiar routines. The limbo phase. The vacation is over, the novelty has run it’s course. I’m ready.

So what does a PCS transfer feel like? It’s like holding your breath as you travel place to place, keeping it all together, making it an adventure, until it’s time to set up the new nest. And finally, finally being able to exhale.

I’m ready to put away the suitcases. I’m ready to breathe again.

Insomniac Ramblings

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It’s 12:02 a.m. Day 42 of our PCS/nomad existence. I cannot sleep. When I can’t sleep, I write. My thoughts are all over the place tonight. I can’t promise this will turn out coherent. I can’t promise clarity, just some midnight ramblings…

Robin Williams

I wasn’t alive when Kennedy was shot, but everyone that was knows exactly where they were when it happened. Everyone knows where they were and what they were doing with vivid detail when the towers fell that Tuesday morning. I’m not comparing the magnitude of the death of a gifted man with these other events necessarily, but it does serve as a reminder when impactful things occur, time seems to slow down, or shift suddenly. I remember watching Happy Days with my mom when Mork landed and froze the Fonz. I remember watching his movies. We collectively remember him as a comedic and dramatic soundtrack to our lives. I never knew the man, but because of his gifts, I was able to witness a small portion of his work. I don’t know that I’ve ever been really affected or saddened by the passing of a celebrity before, but this seems different somehow. Perhaps because of the big “D” word everyone keeps rambling on about – telling everyone to “get help” and to call 1-800 numbers and such. I just keep thinking that if a man that had means, access, and capability to receive help, but couldn’t; what hope is there for the countless others of us who have experienced true depression? The D-word is an equalizer. It really doesn’t matter who you are, how much money you have, or what side of town you call home.

Middle East Conflicts/Violence Here and Abroad

Being in a hotel (and camping) for 6 weeks, we’ve had more screen time than normal. In our current location, we actually have 2 televisions, one in a little living room, and one in the bedroom of our suite. (We usually only have 1 television and more often than not, Disney Jr. or PBS is the channel of choice.) Now that the option is there, we’ve been able to watch the news and view other non-animated, grown-up television.

I think I want to go back to not knowing.

I hate watching the news. It makes me feel helpless. I don’t like the world I see on my screen as I hear my kids chattering around the wall. It scares me. It drives me to my knees in prayer. I wonder what kind of world they will grow to inherit. The world has always had hate, murder, war, etc., but it sure feels like we are experiencing a rising tide of evil. Is it because of the 24 hour news cycle? Or is it a true rise? I don’t know.

Grief

It comes in all forms, in varying depths. Family tragedies, anniversaries, birthdays of loved ones no longer with us, or even diagnoses we didn’t want to face bring grief to the surface. It’s as if grief picks at the healing scab just to see if the underlying skin is tender. If it still feels the sting.

It does. It hurts. And it sucks.

Hope

I’ve complained of roaches, living out of suitcases, and other minor inconveniences experienced through a military transfer, but when I look at the bigger picture – I can do nothing but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude. I’m not on some mountaintop fearing for my life. I’m here. I have a family I would lay down my life for. I have no want for any material thing. And I get to move into a new home and own a small patch of dirt again in just a few days. Grief is real. Tragedy and death are real. But so is love. So is faith. And hope. If there isn’t hope, if there isn’t something good to come out of the dark, what really then is the point? I’m grateful for hope, despite the evidence that points to a lack of it.

Fist Pumps!

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I love days where you just want to pump your fist and say, “YEAH! It was a good day!” Today? Meh. We were all crabby today. The novelty of being in the same room (same car) with the same people for 5 weeks has worn off. Having space in our new joint will be a good thing, for all of us!

Having a few things on the agenda for the day, we started out with swim lesson number 2. The kids are doing great, becoming more comfortable in the water. Hannah is getting better and putting her face in the water and blowing bubbles. Jacob hollers at the instructor that he’s “NEVER DOING THAT AGAIN!” but then ends up going under water again. She’s amazing at pushing to the edge of his comfort zone, but then backing off and giving him something to do that builds his confidence again. She’s very gifted with kiddos. Unfortunately, the lesson got cut just a tad short as the thunderstorms rolled in.

Overall breakdown:

Hannah: Happy in the water.
Jacob: Crabby at the instructor, but his desire to learn is overcoming his disdain for her. Also dislikes being told to get out of the pool. Who cares if there’s lightening?
Me: I’m just happy that I’m not the bad guy! Yay!

From there we went to Target to pick up a couple things and an air mattress. (Jake’s popped from taking one too many jumps.) Target is always a good time and I found a lycra swim cap and goggles so I can swim some laps on the really hot days instead of running. (Running in this humidity feels like running into a hair dryer on the hottest setting. No bueno for this chick.) Note: If you have curly/large hair, lycra caps are SO the way to go! They don’t pull/snag/stick to your hair! And they are easier to put on!

Overall breakdown:

Hannah: Flibbertygibbet self. Happy to be. Although slow to buckle up and get into/out of the car.
Eric: Mildly irritated that Hannah is in her own world. He cannot comprehend why it takes her so long to get buckled every time we get into/out of the car.
Jacob: Happy to have his iPad back. Slightly irritated that the A/C doesn’t blow cold air as fast as he’d like.
Me: Sad I can’t be in Target solo. Happily dreaming of swimming laps at the pool in new goggles and swim cap. Solo, of course.

We stopped by the new house (which is near the Target! YES!) to check on progress. Looks like we should be moving in next week! Yahoo! Every time we go and check things out, it fuels the anticipation. (Or the impatience.) I cannot WAIT to live in this space.

Finally, we rounded out the day with a “Dive-In” at the base pool. We loved our local drive-in back in Whidbey. Sadly there are no drive-ins here, but the base pool opens up occasionally for an evening kid movie on a giant screen while we swim! It’s awesome! And the bonus was the kiddos got to practice their swim skills waiting for the Lego Movie to start!

While splashing and swimming around, Jacob thinks its fun to “kick off” of us. It would be fine, except we are given no warning. No heads up, nothing but a swift kick in the gut. Or the leg. Or other places. It was getting painful. One kick too many, stern words, etc., a meltdown ensued. Jacob and I both gave each other space for about 3 minutes. I played with Hannah on the other side and Eric hung out with Jacob. A moment later, Jacob swims up and says, “I’m ready to do the apology thing.”

Okay.

What followed was something that I have been working on with both kiddos, but I’ve had to lead them through it with them essentially repeating what I say. It’s a 4-part apology that teaches more than just saying “magic words” to get done with being in trouble:

*I’m sorry for…
*It was wrong because…
*In the future I will…
*Will you forgive me?

Jacob did it by himself. He apologized using all 4 components. No prompting. (I checked with Eric – he didn’t prompt at all!) It was purely Jacob’s initiative. He was thoughtful and logical with his reasoning. I was beyond astounded.

Overall breakdown:

Eric and Hannah: Swimming happily, waiting for the movie to start
Jacob: Apologizing to me. Of his own volition. Not necessarily enjoying it, but doing it without anger.
Me: Blubbering mess, fist pumping the day.

Welcome to My Nightmare

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I took the minions to the base pool yesterday. It was sunny and wonderful and hot! The pool felt amazing!

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This kiddie pool was HUGE! The kids loved it!

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They even have a little tube slide that shoots them into the big pool. (You’ll forgive the lack of pictures as I was playing “catcher’ when they came flying down!) We swam the length of the pool, went down the slide, and floated, played motor boat, blew bubbles, and all the water fun we could come up with. Then they suggested “Humpty Dumpty”.  This is where they sit on the side of the pool and we sing, “Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, Humpty Dumpty had a great faaaaaaal!” and you pop the minion from the side and splash them down into the water. Okay. So off to the side I go, while they swim to the stairs leading out of the pool to sit on the side. I went to reach up to Hannah and I am nose to nose with a cockroach in the pool gutter.

I, of course, let out some kind of freakish terror-filled guttural moan followed by a scream to which the lifeguard looked at me questioningly. While running backward (read: stumbling and trying not to drown) in the water, I pointed and mouthed the word ‘cockroach’ as I pointed to the side of the pool where it walked along the edge, completely unfazed by my horror and outright panic.

The lady lifeguard took matters into her own hands. Well, she called someone over to take matters into someone’s hands. This big lifeguard dude came over, snapping on a surgical latex glove. He laid on the concrete, draped his burley arm over the side and karate-chopped the vermin. He then deftly scooped up the carcass, and carried it to it’s final resting place. While overwhelmed with gratitude, I may have clapped. I’m sure he thought I was a lunatic. My relief outweighed any sense of cool I had left.

I realize we live in Texas. I realize that bugs, like cockroaches, thrive in warmer climates. I also know that “everything is bigger in Texas”. The bugs are no exception.  I was stumbling in the dark to make some coffee this morning, I flipped on the microwave light to see a roach scurry across the kitchenette stove top. Again with the shudder, the moans, the general freakout as I hopped barefoot back on to the bed and scrambled to my phone to type a hasty text to Eric who had already left this morning: IMG_6892

I went to the front desk. As she said she would let housekeeping know, I think she was trying not to laugh at me.  I don’t care. You think I’m a pansy, a wimp, whatever who can’t deal with bugs? Okay. Yup. That’s me. Sue me. Just come kill my bugs first.

As I type this, I am cowering and trembling with dread sitting on the bed with the kiddos waiting for housekeeping to arrive. It’s been about an hour. I refuse to go back into the kitchen. I think I’ll be throwing on a ball cap and taking the kids OUT for breakfast. And perhaps lunch. This must be what it felt like for ocean swimmers after seeing Jaws.

I think I’m gonna need more than a bigger boat.

I Think It May Be Time

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We’ve been living la vida lodge for almost 2 weeks (more if you count the camping and hotels to get here). We’ve done all sorts of things to pass the time; attempting to Positive Polly the situation, full on meltdowns (you know just for fun), playground time such as this one:

IMG_6793Taking selfies to send to friends, such as this (way over-tired) one here:

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We’ve played countless games of Sorry!, Crazy 8s, Old Maid, War, and of course Slap Jack.

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Nope, not strip Crazy 8s, just Crazy 8s with a Hawaiian baby who refuses to wear shirts. (Thanks Stef! ;))

We’ve gone bowling on base, which was actually pretty fun! Jacob is getting the hang of it, although we keep having to remind him that it’s bowling etiquette to allow the neighboring bowler to take his turn first, not race him up to the foul line and ensure your ball flies farther and louder!

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Of course there is coloring as an option. This lasted maybe an hour. It was a blissful, spa-like experience!

10401437_10202538549329406_7019367957096005623_nWe’ve also discovered the wonders of the local grocery store, HEB. They have a TON of pre chopped, prepped, sliced and diced foods. Perfect for living la vida kitchenette!  Here’s Vanna White eating some coleslaw!

1234714_10202540627221352_8779008168713196846_nThe Mrs. T.F. (tooth fairy for the uninitiated) even stopped by for a visit to pick up tooth #2!

10403512_10202547053902015_4413452592231776797_nAll of these have been fun. We are even headed to the pool today. (Can’t wait!) But what has me so excited, day after day, is the maid service. This is the one chance of the day to have an adult conversation with another female. I know that one of the ladies is having her first grandchild. I know the other one is a mil spouse of nearly 30 years. I look forward to chatting with these ladies. We had a maid we haven’t met yesterday, but she was quiet and didn’t feel like chatting apparently. Or I may have scared her. Come to think of it, she was very efficient and cleared out pretty quickly.

Maybe it’s my turn to be scared. Let’s just hope I don’t come across like Jesse in the ‘very special’ episode all hopped up on caffeine pills.

SoExcitedSoScared_QuickMeme_420x305I think it may be time to get outta the lodge!