Tag: transitions

Plot Twist!

Riding down the road with the family towing our new (to us)-going-to-be-the-best-summer-ever-camper, I gripped the “oh $h1#!” handle on my side as the vehicle miles in front of us tapped his brakes. My husband laughed as I told him, “I love how the dumb handle in the car gives me the illusion that I could in anyway affect the outcome of an accident.” Like my grip on this handle will somehow magically apply the brakes and save us all from plummeting to our deaths. The car was so far ahead of us, even I had to laugh at my disproportionate reaction.

I have a delusion that I am in control. Of all the things.

We recently found out we have a plot twist to the plans of the next couple of years as we transition out of active duty military life. This transition (after decades) is a big one, but also incredibly exciting. My anxiety definitely kicked up a notch or 6 as we continue to discuss what we want, where we want to live, second chapter prospects, kids’ schooling, etc. There are so many decisions to make over the coming months, and many questions that will be answered in time.

This month I celebrate 4 years of sobriety (YAY!). Pondering the plot twist made me wonder what it would be like if I was still drinking. I would likely drink AT the transition, in a feeble attempt at quelling anxiety, not recognizing that I would only be adding piles of shame, guilt and more anxiety on top of everything else. Using alcohol to not be in my head about whatever situation never makes it go away, and in fact makes it worse. When drinking, I would eventually get to an acceptance place when big things happened, but it wasn’t easy or quick by any means. Worry is like a rocking chair as they say – gives you something to do, but gets you no where. Instead of numbing out, I’m feeling ALL the things. The recognizing that one chapter is ending but a new one is beginning. Both sides of the coin, excitement tinged with a bit of sadness, as we consider options.

Feelings are nothing but currents of energy. They pass through as long as I don’t white knuckle grip them by worrying and stewing, like I’m actually in control. Staying present, taking each moment as it comes and just breathing. Everything always works out. It always has. Even hard stuff. Even the messy, emotional, exciting and terrifying stuff. It always works out one way or another. In the meantime, this will be the summer of amazing adventures, many decisions, and a BAZILLION camping get aways! Perhaps I will even learn to become less of a control freak backseat driver! Three of the four of us are vaccinated and we are ready to bust out of this bizzaro quarantine time and have some FUN with the peeps we love. This may be the plot twist we never knew we needed. At just the right time.

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Gratitude, Always

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

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!

Tiny Human Advice

“My wife is really wanting a baby. She’s been showing me how ‘masculine’ diaper bags have become,” he said.

I smile.

“But I’m like, ‘Does that fit my Camaro or motorcycle?'” he continued, “I just don’t know.”

I nodded. “You’ll never be ready. No one is,” I assured him. “But the first time you look at your child, you’ll think, ‘What car?’ That stuff just doesn’t matter.”

The conversation ended as we went back to work, but it stuck with me as the day continued. What would I tell someone who is contemplating starting a family? What would I tell myself? What were some of the things I was told?

I know I half-listened and said, “Yeah, yeah…” when given parenting advice while I was pregnant. One eye on that round belly and everyone feels compelled to offer a bit (or more) of their wise words. Here’s what I would have told myself. (You know, if I had actually been listening.)

Having a child will change you. It will, no question. But the changes will go far beyond the cliche of night feedings, diapers, and exhaustion. It changes everything.

You are never ready. Ever. You have to be brave and just go for it when you are as ready as you think you are.

Kids will grow you as a person. They will make you deal with your own stuff. They will force you to be selfless.

You’ll never be more concerned with safety. For yourself, your significant other, and undoubtedly for baby.

You will hate the fact that you can’t make them instantly all better when they are sick.

You will ache with the need of wanting to fix things for them, make things better or easier. But you won’t because you love them enough to realize that a bit of struggle is better for them in the long run.

You will love your spouse more deeply than you thought possible. You think you love them to the fullest capacity right now – filling up all the possible nooks and crannies of completeness. But that child will grasp your finger with their tiny ones and you will look up and realize that a whole other door just busted wide opened and flooded over with love for your spouse – your partner in this crazy, overwhelming endeavor of raising a tiny human.

What advice would you give a person contemplating a family? What advice did you get? Did you listen?

School’s Out for Summah!

Yesterday was the last day of school. A day that we’ve all been looking forward to. No more having to get up, schedules to keep, or homework to complete. As I walked up to pick up my tender-hearted little girl, she ran to me and buried her face in my lap. I asked her if she wanted to go hug her teachers or say goodbye to any of her friends. As I looked into her brimming little eyes threatening to spill over, her lips trembled and I knew. “I just want to go,” she said in a small voice. In the car she let it all out, sobbing all the way home that she hated having to say goodbye to people.

As a military family, it’s what we do. And our kids do it right along with us. So far, she’s been so young with our moves that it didn’t really affect her. But no more. She knows now. She gets it. And my heart breaks right along with hers. Between hiccups, she cried and said, “Sometimes I wish we weren’t military so we didn’t have to keep saying goodbye to the people we love.” The end of the school year, for her, represented what she knows is coming sooner or later; we will move to a new place and start over. Again.

Having a good cry, a FaceTime session with Grandma and later a bike ride with Daddy, a sense of acceptance and moving on settled in. They are so resilient. It’s tough to be sure, but they do bounce back.

It’s now day 1 into our summer break. I’ve been up for exactly 4 hours.

Four hours into “vacation”.

We’ve eaten breakfast, my daughter has painted. The dog has played fetch 36 times. My son has reached the next level of Minecraft. I’ve been attempting to study. She has had at least 4 costume changes so far. The sadness of goodbyes has started to fade.

Have I mentioned that my daughter has been painting? Yes, painting at the table. Five beautiful new masterpieces now decorate our kitchen table, drying on the not-so-good kitchen towels.

Have I mentioned that she is also a talker a story-teller? A non-stop talker story-teller, in fact. As I sit here attempting (for the thirty-seventh time) to read the same paragraph, she is making up stories about her paintbrushes and “how they land – SPLOOSH! – into the paint. Just like a swimming pool! See Mommy!? Watch him splash into the pool of red! He doesn’t have a bathing suit though. But he doesn’t need one. He’s a paintbrush!” She then dissolves into a fit of giggles at her own joke. “See Mommy?!!”

“Yes, I see.” Mommy really really needs to read and concentrate right now…

Elmo’s voice counts loudly from an iPad. Barbie and her friends and accessories are strewn all over, awaiting their demise at the hands, er jaws, of our dogs. The phone rings, snacks are requested, games will be played, studying will get done (even if it has to be after they go to bed). They will play with other kids at the gym (Thank you gym childcare workers! You will be saving my sanity and I’ll get to work with clients!)

Despite the adjustments – this summer is going to be a blast! As my daughter has unknowingly demonstrated, there’s a time to be sad, to say goodbyes and see you laters, and to adjust to new schedules. But it’s also about embracing what is, waking up and being excited about what this day may bring.

Even if it does involve paint, play dough, toys all over and a little less alone time. 

Bring it Summer!

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New

Everything.

Everything has changed in the last two months. New city, new state, different climate, new house, new bigger bugs, routines – all of it.

And, my first started kindergarten this week.

As I sit snuggled with him in our rocking chair, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath, I smell his washed-last-night hair. Everyone tells us how fast it goes. I just want to inhale this moment and press pause. Savor it.

The first day was rough, coming home from school telling us how he didn’t like school, it was too long, he didn’t make any friends, etc. (It didn’t help that a scheduling fiasco at Hannah’s school made me late to pick up Jake, prompting all sorts of chaos.)

I had to learn the intricate child pickup route, and that if I don’t go early enough, both Jake and I get to wait an additional 40 minutes.
I learned that after just 2 days, my son has “got it, mom!” and to just leave him at the door. He didn’t want Hannah and I to walk him into class anymore. I learned how to swallow the catch in my throat and the sting in my eye and simply wish him a good day.

I learned that my son didn’t speak up for three days when he didn’t get milk for his lunch – even after I’d set up money for it. By the end of the week he asked the teacher and they showed him how to go in and just buy milk by telling the lady his name.

He’s learning so much every day. He’s sleeping like a rock at night, completely wiped out from the day.

He’s learning the true value of the weekend.

New stuff is scary. Transitions are exciting, but unsettling. As the cardboard sea around us begins to diminish, we are getting used to the new. Though a rough couple of days, they are adapting. We are adapting.

It’s all new. And every little thing’s gonna be alright.

Let Them Be the Hero

So often, I rush in as the mom to “help” my husband with the kids.

Regardless of whether or not he asks for my help.

Especially after a deployment, it is so incredibly easy to just jump in and handle any situation with the kids. I’ve been doing it the whole deployment anyway, so why stop now? What I’ve come to realize is that I need to consciously take a step back and let him get back into the groove of being home and handling the kids. Even if it’s bumpy. Even when it’s not how I would do things. Different is just that – different. But it’s not wrong. (You would be correct in assuming that I have tendencies toward perfectionism and controlling behavior.) But, I’m working on perfecting that!

I wasted no time after Eric’s homecoming to get out of the house, mostly for my own sanity, but also to give the minions and their dad a chance to reconnect, without my interference – well intentioned though it may be. Sometimes I get it right. Often I jump in and have to back track. And sometimes I get it all messed up.

Tonight though, tonight was one done right. Eric had assumed that Jacob was done with dinner and tossed his last piece of pizza. (Jacob said he was done, left the table and went in the other room to play.) 30 minutes later, Jacob comes in and wants his last piece of pizza. Eric looked at me, feeling horrible, looked back to Jacob and said, “I’m so sorry, buddy. You said you were done. I tossed the last piece.” Jacob then sighs that big 4-year-old sigh, slumps his shoulders and whines, “But I wasn’t donnnnnnnnne!” (In my mind, I know this kid loves this Hot Rock Pizza we get at the farmer’s market,  I would have saved it for breakfast, but whatever. Eric was cleaning up, the kid said he was done – so I didn’t give it another thought. )

Instead of rushing in to try to soothe Jake, I whispered to Eric (who still felt bad) that perhaps he could offer him a pudding. That way, the dessert came from Daddy and they could work it out between them. Eric’s face lit up, Jacob was more than happy to have a pudding, and all was right with the world once again.

How easy it would have been to rush in and get a pudding for Jake and undermine Eric, not to mention make him feel even worse. I think as mothers, especially after a long deployment, it’s “just easier to do it” ourselves. But then they don’t get to be the hero. They don’t get to stretch their parenting legs and get back into their groove. If we are to model a marriage for our kids, shouldn’t we show them how to treat a spouse by example? We don’t always get it right, but we love and respect each other in our marriage. We trust each other. Our actions are our best lessons to our kids on how to treat each other. (Not to mention what to look for in a potential mate.)

I love watching my husband be the hero his is to our kids.

And me.

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On Transitions

I don’t like transitions. Point A is fine. Point B is great. The messiness of the in between is scary and uncertain. I don’t like the messiness. At all. And for me, this applies to multiple areas of my life.

In potty training my daughter, the convenience of Pull-Ups is great. But, I am overjoyed at the idea of being a diaper-free family. Getting from Pull-Ups to being completely diaper free: messy. Literally. Who knew you needed an ENTIRE roll of toilet paper for one visit to the bathroom. Apparently my daughter believes this as we have clogged the toilet not once, but multiple times.

Messy.

While training for my first triathlon, I’m excited about each individual portion (swim, bike, and run), but the transitions leave me feeling nervous and scared that I’m going to forget something I’ll need, or that it’ll take me too long and I’ll be dead last. (Horror of 1st world horrors, I know!)  Yes, cognitively I understand that it’s my first time doing this and there’s bound to be a learning curve, but I like to “know it before I know it”, as my mother says. I keep telling myself that if I can just make it through the swim portion (and not drown) and get on the bike, it’ll be fine! And it will.

Uncertain.

The two week period before the hubbs goes on deployment – MESSY. And sometimes ugly. We are both separating emotionally and it’s just rough. We both know it’s coming, so as a defense mechanism we pick little fights and push each other away as if that will make parting easier. Every military family goes through this transition. The first day of the deployment is better than any day within this two week transition period!

And the transition back to family life after a deployment: MESSY! (But fun, too!)

I like knowing. I like concreteness. It’s comforting.

Faith isn’t concrete, yet it’s comforting. We don’t concretely see the wind, but we feel it and know that it’s there. As much as I don’t like transitions and the uncertainty and messiness they can bring, they are necessary. Often it’s only after I’ve arrived at point B that I can look back with 20/20 vision and see just how the “messiness” of the transition served a bigger purpose than just getting to the destination. That whole “life being a journey” and all that.

While I don’t know if I’ll ever LOVE being in the messy and uncertain, I can say that I understand it’s value. Enough to grit my teeth, smile and fake it ’till I make it!  And learn to enjoy it along the way, even when I can’t see with that hindsight vision just yet.

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Dear Straight Mom of a Curly Kid…

Dear SM (Straight Mom) –

She hears you sighing when you attempt to brush her curls. She hears your comments about her “rats’ nest”. She’s listening. She hears you.

She gets the message.

So let’s change it.

First, since you don’t have curls, there will be a bit of a learning curve. Please check out sites like these: naturallycurly.com (reviews of products in all price ranges and more!) or Deva (product and how-to videos!).

Educate yourself, so you can educate her on how to best take care of her tresses. The Deva site also has sample questions to ask a prospective stylist! Curly hair can (and should) be cut dry. To quote Lorraine Massey, “We don’t wear our hair wet. Why should we cut it that way?” Many stylists will underestimate the shrink factor. The hair dries, and what was thought to be a trim actually chopped off 4 inches!

Then figure out what type of curls she has…curly, kinky, etc. Then based on that – find out what products work best for that specific type of curl. All curly types need hydration. Shampoo is dehydrating. Look for hair cleansers with no sulfates and no parabens. You want something with NO lather. There is no magic in lather. I use DevaCare No Poo, but there are quite a few no/low lather cleansers on the market.

Throw away the brush. Curls should not be brushed out. (Okay, maybe for Halloween, but that’s about it!) No longer are we in the Marsha Brady world of 1000 brush strokes for hair health! I don’t own a brush. Keep a wide-tooth comb that in the shower and ONLY use it with conditioner in those locks.

Marcia Brady brushing hairCondition, condition, condition! Curly hair is thirsty hair! A great conditioner makes all the difference. It will help to keep frizz at bay and help the hair hold styling product much better.

A curl defining product is a must. This can be a gel, creme, or a spray – or a combo of all of the above. On my two-year-old, I’m not going to slather her curls in gel, but I do use Ouidad’s Botanical Boost. It gives a bit of curl definition and helps to detangle out of the shower/bath. I use Deva’s ArcAnGel on my own hair and really like the hold. Not too much crunch, but some definition. On days that are humid, or when I used to live in Hawaii, I liked Tigi’s Curls Rock styling creme.

Above all else, give your curly kid the tools to help her look and feel her best. Don’t add negativity to what she already may be feeling about herself. We may think “it’s just hair”, but it’s not. It does go deeper.

Final deep curly thought:

“I often have the fantasy that curly girls are mermaids who have had to adapt to life on dry land. We come from the sea. The ocean is in our blood. It sings through our heart and lungs, our skin and hair. Our curls require the nourishment only a watery environment can provide. Both ocean waves and curly hair are forces of nature that can’t be tamed. We can only accept and admire their power and beauty.” Lorraine Massey, author of Curly Girl: The Handbook.

Go forth and be curly!

Fear and Blessings

Its been said that to dismantle fear, one must call it out. Fear loses it’s power when faced head on.  So here is my fear: Away from this beautiful location and the most wonderful friends and support group, and with an upcoming deployment, I am going to become a slob, eat myself silly and gain every pound back. (Hey, no one said that fears were rational!) For the past month or so as its really hitting me that the move is imminent, I have been scrambling and trying to suck up each and every moment knowing that things aren’t going to be as easy over the next year. I’m not going to be able to do all the things I want to do as has been the case. I can’t just go to a spin class whenever I feel like it. I can’t take off and climb a volcano. Time is running short.
I’ve been worried about how to get in my workouts and incorporate the kids. Washington is beautiful, but it does rain. A lot. And Jake is getting too big for the strollers. Doing videos are great, and there are gyms where I’m going (I am seriously not falling off the end of the Earth) but there is an accountability in group exercise that just isn’t replicated when working out solo.
I really had no idea how worried I was about all of this until last night. As I’m doing dishes and much of this is swimming around in my head, I get a text asking if I would like a spin bike. A friend’s brother just happens to be a trainer, they are getting “rid” of some of the gym’s old bikes and would I like one? Oh yeah, and it’s FREE!
Um. YES PLEASE!!! Woohooo!!!
There are no excuses!! I have a machine that I can work out on on days when working out outside just can’t be done. I feel so humbled and blessed that this friend thought of me. And I realized in that moment that I had been way more worried about this than I realized because there was this weight that just lifted. I cannot go back to the habits I used to have. I will not go back, regardless of our physical location.
And I was also reminded by another friend that if I want it (fitness/exercise/etc.) bad enough, I will figure out a way to make it happen. May not be an ideal, or what I would plan, but it can get done. And it just might be better than I expect. Instead of looking at all the things I’m going to miss about Hawaii and our life here, it’s time to start celebrating what I’ve accomplished and look forward to the new adventures that are just around the corner.
The me leaving this island is completely changed from the me that arrived here just 3 short years ago:
 This picture was taken weeks before we left Washignton. Jake was about 4 months old.
 December 2011 Marathon
I cannot enjoy the next chapter fully until I stop reading the previous one.
 Part of the beauty of military life is that you get the opportunity to meet all kinds of wonderful people and you never know whose path you will cross or who will cross yours! Some pretty amazing people have crossed my path and have forever changed my life. I wouldn’t trade these last three years for anything!

Here’s to the next adventure!

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