I am not a jewelry gal. I have had countless women swear that they could turn me into one, but truth be told...it won't happen. I am just not that kind of a girl. It's not that I'm judging my jewelry loving friends. Not at all! I just find necklaces and bracelets annoying on my skin. I don't enjoy the texture of it. Plus, I'm allergic to everything but the expensive (ie...gold, platinum) stuff, so most of the time I figure, why bother? I do, however, have a couple of items that I wear daily. My two things I wear all the time have complete significance and are wholly connected to my lobster.
The first (and my favorite) is my wedding ring. The lobster picked this fella out and it's beautiful. When he and I got our rings (they are both replacements...mine because we rush married before he deployed and couldn't find a ring we both liked, so we got "something" to have for the time being, and his because he lost it during the rainy season of Iraq when it fell off of his dog tag-he had it off because of firing or something where he wasn't supposed to wear metal, I kind of forget-and landed in the two feet of mud sand and was lost. I heard from some of the other guys that he spent hours out there scouring the mud to no avail) we had a bit of a "putting on the ring" situation. We both held the other's ring and prayed. We also each kissed the ring before we put it on the other's finger. I know it sounds cheesy, but every time I see that ring on my finger, it isn't a reminder that I'm "off the market" or something lame like that, but rather a reminder that I am married to a man who deeply loves me. My ring makes me feel connected to him. It surprises me so often when I look down and see it there. I mean, seriously, when the heck did I become this married lady with four kids!? I love the reminder that it brings me!
The second are a pair of diamond studs. The lobster got me these studs for Christmas during our first married deployment. They were supposed to be signed for, but UPS left them on my doorstep when I was out of town. I had to track down a friend to pick up the box so that they wouldn't be stolen! When I got back to the prairie land, I got the box and opened the most beautiful pair of diamond studs I have ever seen. My husband understands that I am simple, and completely not flashy in any way shape or form. The studs he picked are perfect and beautiful. They seriously are always in my ears. They remind me that love is largely about listening. When I put my fingers up to my ears, those studs remind me that if I stop listening to him, then the sparkle that exists in our relationship will fade away. It's not that he's my dictator, control freak, ALPHA MALE, psycho husband. It's just that to hear him is to understand him, and to understand him is to find a beautiful peace and comfort in his leadership. I trust him. He is probably the only person who I trust enough to allow to lead me completely. So anyway...my earrings remind me of that.
The third piece of jewelry that I wear (only when the lobster is away for longer than one night), is around my neck. When the lobster and I celebrated our first valentine's day together, before we got married, he gave me two of the things I had always wanted someone to give me: a giant teddy bear (we are talking the human sized ones....okay...it's off topic but I have to share. I used to sleep with that teddy bear every time the lobster deployed, until my dog, Jake, decided the bear was public enemy number one. I would wake up in the morning to Jake in the place where the bear was, and the bear would be on the floor. This continued EVERY single night! Okay...off topic, but it still cracks me up. My dog is jealous of a teddy bear! HA!), and a cross necklace. The necklace he chose was exactly what I had always envisioned in my mind: it was simple, and had diamonds. The tradition of wearing it when apart, began at our first married deployment. We stood in the parking lot. I was pregnant with our first born, and he was leaving. I was a new wife, new to the Army, new to the post, new to the state, new to everything. He brought that necklace and put it around my neck. He said "Every time you see this necklace, I want you to know that I love you, and that God is with you." From that day on, it didn't leave my neck until he came home and took it off.
I am wearing that necklace now. The only difference with it, is that now I also wear a tank charm on the same chain. I have moments where I hate wearing it. I hate the symbol of him not being here, and him not coming home at night, yet there are other moments when it comforts my heart and reminds me that he loves me and God is with me. The things he says have changed a bit, yet with every goodbye it's the same: the necklace goes on and stays on until he's back.
Do you have any pieces of jewelry you always wear? What are they?
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Sorry PRT, I have to say BYE BYE BYE!
Now that my back is finally more on the mend, I have been authorized the go ahead to start exercising again. I am doing so with two new rules. #1 is stop when it hurts. No more pushing through the pain and enjoying the high of it. When my body aches, I must quit. (let me just add that I argued against this, but he said it was the only way he would "approve" of exercise right now...he did add-I think just to try to cheer me up-that this is only temporary and I can go back to my wild workout ways later). #2 is that PRT is COMPLETELY off the menu. My chiropractor has specifically forbidden it. He says it is the equivalent of spinal destruction for me. It is a no go for launch (this isn't terribly bothering me because after nearly six months of doing it daily it has produced NO results whatsoever. Sorry Army...PRT sucks). In PRT's place, he has ordered up a beautiful menu alternating yoga and pilates.
Tonight was day one of yoga. I only did a ten minute routine as I was told that I needed to start slowly. Um...shall I say...I was challenged. I was shocked by that! I thought it would be a piece of cake, but it was quite difficult actually. I don't know if my flexibility has departed with the whole back nonsense, or if it's that I'm getting older, but some of those positions that I would've been easily able to do a few months ago were extremely difficult! It felt good though, so I'm not complaining. Yoga is essentially entirely making oneself flexible and able to hold itself up under its own weight (from my VERY beginner's perspective).
Tomorrow pilates will be on the menu, but I'm actually excited about that. I've been doing pilates for forever, so it's not new and unfamiliar to me. I am looking forward to challenging my abs again! :)
Tonight was day one of yoga. I only did a ten minute routine as I was told that I needed to start slowly. Um...shall I say...I was challenged. I was shocked by that! I thought it would be a piece of cake, but it was quite difficult actually. I don't know if my flexibility has departed with the whole back nonsense, or if it's that I'm getting older, but some of those positions that I would've been easily able to do a few months ago were extremely difficult! It felt good though, so I'm not complaining. Yoga is essentially entirely making oneself flexible and able to hold itself up under its own weight (from my VERY beginner's perspective).
Tomorrow pilates will be on the menu, but I'm actually excited about that. I've been doing pilates for forever, so it's not new and unfamiliar to me. I am looking forward to challenging my abs again! :)
icky sticky gooey
So just in case you missed it, this weekend is Easter. I am fairly certain that the reality of that has not been lost on you...but you never know. Considering the holiday-ness of this weekend, I have been fairing up pretty well. I have had little to no emotional outbursts. Sure, today when the kids were doing their easter egg hunting, my mind was thinking, "boy...I sure wish he was here for this!" and "Make sure you get enough pictures! You don't want him to miss this!" and "one more 'holiday' apart..." but I didn't start crying, so that was a success! Right? I may have been slightly agitated, but I tried hard not to be.
It wasn't until we got home. I don't know if it was his car parked in the driveway, or his slippers on my living room floor, or the fact that he just isn't here...I don't know. The site of the candy sitting on the counter launched me into tears. Isn't it always that way? We manage to make it through the actual "events" all right, but some random bread crumb will freak you out and have you curled up in the fetal position bawling like a baby on your kitchen floor. It's slightly embarrassing. Okay, not slightly, it's mega embarrassing, especially when your four children are looking at you like what the heck is wrong with you lady!? while you're trying to communicate in English that you are not in pain, or dying, or losing your mind, you just miss their daddy. Once you find the ability to communicate that, their momentary panic gives way to slight relief, then sadness too. Maybe team sadness is necessary sometimes...
I miss him. I miss his voice. I miss his smile. I miss venting on him. I miss his crap irritating me all over our house. I miss sleeping next to him. I miss looking at him. I miss being near him. I miss sharing moments with him. I miss how he can calm me down. I miss the "picture" being complete. I miss my best friend.
sigh It is what it is...
It wasn't until we got home. I don't know if it was his car parked in the driveway, or his slippers on my living room floor, or the fact that he just isn't here...I don't know. The site of the candy sitting on the counter launched me into tears. Isn't it always that way? We manage to make it through the actual "events" all right, but some random bread crumb will freak you out and have you curled up in the fetal position bawling like a baby on your kitchen floor. It's slightly embarrassing. Okay, not slightly, it's mega embarrassing, especially when your four children are looking at you like what the heck is wrong with you lady!? while you're trying to communicate in English that you are not in pain, or dying, or losing your mind, you just miss their daddy. Once you find the ability to communicate that, their momentary panic gives way to slight relief, then sadness too. Maybe team sadness is necessary sometimes...
I miss him. I miss his voice. I miss his smile. I miss venting on him. I miss his crap irritating me all over our house. I miss sleeping next to him. I miss looking at him. I miss being near him. I miss sharing moments with him. I miss how he can calm me down. I miss the "picture" being complete. I miss my best friend.
sigh It is what it is...
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
a day in the life...
Today was tackle-the-house day. Since my back is better I would feel extremely guilty if I wasn't doing something productive with my time. Sitting on the couch/laying on the floor just doesn't cut it on the productive scale. Yes, I craft (embroider, cross stitch, crochet, sew, scrapbook, knit, etc etc etc), but one can only do so much of those when you aren't able to move your head in any direction whatsoever.
Okay, back to my day's activities. Today, I tackled the dishes. I swear I heard my kitchen sink take a deep breath when it was finally able to smell the fresh air. Then when I cleaned it and flushed out the disposal, I am almost positive I heard my disposal say something along the lines of "Hallelujah" but I can't be certain.
I swept (but didn't mop) my kitchen floor. After the sweeping activity, my back was giving me a bit of complaining, so I figured I shouldn't push it. I did decide to move on to the desk which has been growing paper stacks. It's weird how completely messy my house gets...especially because I, as an individual, am insanely organized. We're talking...sock drawer organized kind of person. I need to know where everything is. Yes, I know this is ultimately stupid in the grand scheme of things, but it's who I am.
Here I sit, having spent the majority of my day cleaning, organizing, and cooking (starting to get back to normal around here! lol!), and yet my house looks like I have done almost nothing at all!! Is it that I have four children and two dog syndrome? Or have I somehow acquired shadows that filthify everything in sight when I am not looking? It seriously perplexes me how a rug I just vacuumed can become dirty again so quickly.
Can you believe Easter is this Sunday? Wow. Sort of popped up on me quickly. Well, back to life. The kids are done bathing. We are going to snuggle up and watch a kid movie. Blessings!
Okay, back to my day's activities. Today, I tackled the dishes. I swear I heard my kitchen sink take a deep breath when it was finally able to smell the fresh air. Then when I cleaned it and flushed out the disposal, I am almost positive I heard my disposal say something along the lines of "Hallelujah" but I can't be certain.
I swept (but didn't mop) my kitchen floor. After the sweeping activity, my back was giving me a bit of complaining, so I figured I shouldn't push it. I did decide to move on to the desk which has been growing paper stacks. It's weird how completely messy my house gets...especially because I, as an individual, am insanely organized. We're talking...sock drawer organized kind of person. I need to know where everything is. Yes, I know this is ultimately stupid in the grand scheme of things, but it's who I am.
Here I sit, having spent the majority of my day cleaning, organizing, and cooking (starting to get back to normal around here! lol!), and yet my house looks like I have done almost nothing at all!! Is it that I have four children and two dog syndrome? Or have I somehow acquired shadows that filthify everything in sight when I am not looking? It seriously perplexes me how a rug I just vacuumed can become dirty again so quickly.
Can you believe Easter is this Sunday? Wow. Sort of popped up on me quickly. Well, back to life. The kids are done bathing. We are going to snuggle up and watch a kid movie. Blessings!
Monday, April 18, 2011
Six year old sayings
Couldn't fit this into my last post because it just didn't fit, but in all things hilarity it had to be shared with the world (or at least documented).
My six year old came up to me a few days ago and said this to me: "Mommy? You can't have sex anymore, because I don't want you to have any more babies. You've had enough already!"
I laughed and said, "I can't have sex anyway. Your daddy isn't here!"
She said, "Yeah. I know. But I don't think you guys should have any more babies."
I seriously laughed so hard my abs hurt! :)
My six year old came up to me a few days ago and said this to me: "Mommy? You can't have sex anymore, because I don't want you to have any more babies. You've had enough already!"
I laughed and said, "I can't have sex anyway. Your daddy isn't here!"
She said, "Yeah. I know. But I don't think you guys should have any more babies."
I seriously laughed so hard my abs hurt! :)
All things sanity...
A man walked in to a bar and said "Ouch!"
Admit it. You laughed. You know you did. That joke is funny. It's one of those jokes that has been told time and time again...but it's still hilarious. Another one I like:
A horse walks in to a bar and the bartender says: "Why the long face?"
You laughed then too...didn't you? :)
Laughter is the world's best medicine. I suppose, truth be told, it's mine. It is definitely number one in regards to all things sanity. I love to laugh. I need to laugh. I thrive on it. Truth be told...life is just ridiculous. At least life in America. What are our real struggles? If we put it all in to perspective...Seriously....so many people in the world have things WAY worse than I do. Being all down and agitated is so silly...
Second on my list of all things sanity: completely rocking out, dancing, where no one can see me. Blaring the music at top volume, just to drown out all the endless questions that my kids ask, and the rumbling, rambling, bumbling thoughts shifting and surfing around in my brain. Music moves my soul. There is nothing like moving one's body to a beat, just to pour out emotions: joy, pain, sadness, excitement...etc etc. I enjoy doing this alone for a couple of reasons:
1. I do not enjoy what the trips did to my body. I don't think anyone else should have to endure the torture of watching all that jiggles from me on any sort of dance floor/stage
2. I remember being in college and going to the clubs and seeing those "old people" and thinking to myself what the heck are they doing here? Don't they know they're old!? At that time I made a promise to myself I would not torture young people with my old white chick dance moves...even though I can still get jiggy with it (in a massively jiggly way! HAHA!)
3. I am insecure now. I used to dance all the time. I use to know I was good at it. I used to rock to some pretty cool beats. Now? I'm a "mom". Momsville and dancing just don't mix so well.
4. I don't want to think about/worry about/be distracted by the notion of what some dude might possibly be thinking about what I'm doing. I don't want to tempt someone to sin (not that my body would cause anyone to do that anyway). I know how visual men AND women are, and in this world? It's better to be safe than sorry.
5. The only person I would ever go dancing with is the lobster, and...um...bless his heart...he has NO groove. Besides, it probably wouldn't end up the way I would want the whole experience too...so it's better to leave it alone.
These are why I dance alone, in my house, with the music blaring. I really want to get one of those arm band things for the iPod. Then I could rock out even more often!
My third all things sanity activity/whatever you call it, is abdominal workouts. I don't know why I love it so much, but I completely do. Despite my weight, in the last three months, I got back to pumping out five hundred sit ups a day. I love pilates, crunches, table tops, and now push ups (I am shocked that I'm writing this!) and anything that pushes, challenges, or stretches my core. I suppose it's my version of "running". A lot of people run to de-stress. Me? I do sit ups.
My fourth thing of all things sanity isn't appropriate to write here...so I'll just keep it in the bedroom.
Let me put it frankly...I am SO sick of feeling like an old maid. This is what happens when a woman spends a month barely moving and bored out of her mind... :)
Can't wait to talk to my lobster. I miss him. And I so want to hear him laugh.
Admit it. You laughed. You know you did. That joke is funny. It's one of those jokes that has been told time and time again...but it's still hilarious. Another one I like:
A horse walks in to a bar and the bartender says: "Why the long face?"
You laughed then too...didn't you? :)
Laughter is the world's best medicine. I suppose, truth be told, it's mine. It is definitely number one in regards to all things sanity. I love to laugh. I need to laugh. I thrive on it. Truth be told...life is just ridiculous. At least life in America. What are our real struggles? If we put it all in to perspective...Seriously....so many people in the world have things WAY worse than I do. Being all down and agitated is so silly...
Second on my list of all things sanity: completely rocking out, dancing, where no one can see me. Blaring the music at top volume, just to drown out all the endless questions that my kids ask, and the rumbling, rambling, bumbling thoughts shifting and surfing around in my brain. Music moves my soul. There is nothing like moving one's body to a beat, just to pour out emotions: joy, pain, sadness, excitement...etc etc. I enjoy doing this alone for a couple of reasons:
1. I do not enjoy what the trips did to my body. I don't think anyone else should have to endure the torture of watching all that jiggles from me on any sort of dance floor/stage
2. I remember being in college and going to the clubs and seeing those "old people" and thinking to myself what the heck are they doing here? Don't they know they're old!? At that time I made a promise to myself I would not torture young people with my old white chick dance moves...even though I can still get jiggy with it (in a massively jiggly way! HAHA!)
3. I am insecure now. I used to dance all the time. I use to know I was good at it. I used to rock to some pretty cool beats. Now? I'm a "mom". Momsville and dancing just don't mix so well.
4. I don't want to think about/worry about/be distracted by the notion of what some dude might possibly be thinking about what I'm doing. I don't want to tempt someone to sin (not that my body would cause anyone to do that anyway). I know how visual men AND women are, and in this world? It's better to be safe than sorry.
5. The only person I would ever go dancing with is the lobster, and...um...bless his heart...he has NO groove. Besides, it probably wouldn't end up the way I would want the whole experience too...so it's better to leave it alone.
These are why I dance alone, in my house, with the music blaring. I really want to get one of those arm band things for the iPod. Then I could rock out even more often!
My third all things sanity activity/whatever you call it, is abdominal workouts. I don't know why I love it so much, but I completely do. Despite my weight, in the last three months, I got back to pumping out five hundred sit ups a day. I love pilates, crunches, table tops, and now push ups (I am shocked that I'm writing this!) and anything that pushes, challenges, or stretches my core. I suppose it's my version of "running". A lot of people run to de-stress. Me? I do sit ups.
My fourth thing of all things sanity isn't appropriate to write here...so I'll just keep it in the bedroom.
Let me put it frankly...I am SO sick of feeling like an old maid. This is what happens when a woman spends a month barely moving and bored out of her mind... :)
Can't wait to talk to my lobster. I miss him. And I so want to hear him laugh.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
The ugly cry
Tonight after the kids all went to bed, and the house was quiet...I heard a noise. It sounded like distant sniffling. The sound grew and grew until I knew exactly what it was...a cry. It was a powerful cry. It was the kind of cry that is filled with anguish and deep sadness. It was an ugly cry.
Usually when one is ugly crying in this house, it is me. But not tonight. Tonight my heart broke as I realized the ugly cry was coming from my six year old...lolli. I walked up to the door and listened in a bit. My heart was hoping that her tears were over something mundane...a book was ripped, she can't find her pillow, her blankaby is missing...I knew in my heart this wasn't the case, but I still hoped.
As I listened at the door I heard her cry out to God through her tears "I miss my daddy! I just miss him so much. I need my daddy!" I didn't know if I should open the door or not. For a moment I felt frozen...I hate watching my child grieve. I also knew that she was grieving to the One who could comfort her more than I could...
After what felt like ages, but was probably more like thirty seconds, I decided to go in. I opened the door and saw her curled up in a ball on her bed. She had her Bible next to her and she was crying so hard. I said, "Are you okay Lolli?" She said, "I just miss my daddy so much! I am crying because I just miss him so much."
I climbed on her bed and wrapped my arms around her. In times like this, there really isn't much to say. This hurts. I am not going to try to minimize her feelings. I'm not going to fill her head with statements like "It'll be okay." No it won't. It's not okay. It sucks. It hurts. It isn't fair. And that's how life is sometimes.
I laid there holding her. I told her I loved her while she cried. I told her I miss him too. Then we prayed. We both took our feelings our Creator.
I will tell you...I am so hurt. This just sucks.
Usually when one is ugly crying in this house, it is me. But not tonight. Tonight my heart broke as I realized the ugly cry was coming from my six year old...lolli. I walked up to the door and listened in a bit. My heart was hoping that her tears were over something mundane...a book was ripped, she can't find her pillow, her blankaby is missing...I knew in my heart this wasn't the case, but I still hoped.
As I listened at the door I heard her cry out to God through her tears "I miss my daddy! I just miss him so much. I need my daddy!" I didn't know if I should open the door or not. For a moment I felt frozen...I hate watching my child grieve. I also knew that she was grieving to the One who could comfort her more than I could...
After what felt like ages, but was probably more like thirty seconds, I decided to go in. I opened the door and saw her curled up in a ball on her bed. She had her Bible next to her and she was crying so hard. I said, "Are you okay Lolli?" She said, "I just miss my daddy so much! I am crying because I just miss him so much."
I climbed on her bed and wrapped my arms around her. In times like this, there really isn't much to say. This hurts. I am not going to try to minimize her feelings. I'm not going to fill her head with statements like "It'll be okay." No it won't. It's not okay. It sucks. It hurts. It isn't fair. And that's how life is sometimes.
I laid there holding her. I told her I loved her while she cried. I told her I miss him too. Then we prayed. We both took our feelings our Creator.
I will tell you...I am so hurt. This just sucks.
My Bucket List
watch child graduate high school
watch child get married
see Scotland in person
fly first class
climb to base camp on Mt. Everest
hike the John Muir Trail...completely
Go to a professionally performed opera
write a book
graduate from medical school
Buy a house
see Lobster retire from Army
own a piano
This my Bucket List. It is an ever evolving piece of dreams and hopes and things I'd like to do before I kick the bucket. If it's crossed off...I've done it. :)
Friday, April 15, 2011
A thing I think Christians need to realize
I am so so sad. I feel myself wanting to do something foolish or drastic. I feel myself wanting to rebel against whatever institution has me trapped here. I find myself wanting to get in the car with the kids and just driving until I run out of gas. I find myself wanting to withdraw, pull in, hide under the covers and evade. I find myself wanting to indwell.
I am so pissed. I am so mad I don't even know how to see straight. I am completely and utterly helpless, and I am completely angry about that. I am so sad, I am so drained, I am just so...done.
I feel like I need a change. I don't even know what that is or what it looks like, but I need it. I crave it. I want to run away. Maybe I should join the circus? I'd probably fit right in. :)
Can you answer me this? Why is it that when a Christian is sad, other Christians feel the need to bombard them with Bible verses or "I'm praying for you" comments? Why do Christians think it's unChristianly to be depressed!? Why are they so foolish? Was Jesus elated to go to the cross? Um...nope! Scripture tells us: A time to mourn... So why do Christians have this ridiculous need to try to "pray away" the sadness? Seriously. Sometimes a person has an awful lot of crap to be sad about. Sometimes a Christian actually needs to be sad. To deny that is to say that Christ sinned when He was sad, when He begged for His circumstances to go away. Sadness is not bad. It's beautiful. It's wonderful. It's amazing. It's the purest form of complete and utter vulnerability. The issue is in regards to where do you go with your sadness. To whom do you mourn? If I am falling apart and disintegrating do you really believe I am so stupid as to not take it to my Creator? Do you really believe that I would write it here, and then proceed to not talk to God about it? Do you really believe I would not have first taken my feelings to Him!? I mean seriously people. Seriously.
Stop trying to force feed chipper happy cheerfulness down everyone else's throats. There is a time for laughter, and a time for tears. Do we really so naively believe that God has not ALSO created sadness along with all other emotions!?
So tonight I am sad. I am pissed. I am fed up. That doesn't mean I don't trust God. That doesn't mean I need you to send me Bible verses. That doesn't mean my faith is literally falling apart. I know my God is bigger than this whole freaking dogpile of crap that is in front of me. I also know that He knows WAY more about my circumstances than I am capable of writing and you are capable of understanding.
Just because God is good all the time, does not mean that one is constantly happy about what He is doing, or is not emotionally pained and grieved by it. God was good when Christ went to the cross, but that did not mean that the emotional agony of it wasn't penetrating, that He was eager to jump at the situation. He begged for it to go away, but submitted to God's plan.
Okay...off my soap box now. I am just so tired of good intending Christians jumping down the throats of people who express their real feelings. It creates an environment where Christians are afraid to say what they're really experiencing out of fear of what all of the other Christians are going to say or think about them. That is not godly or God glorifying. Then we end up with "cookie cutter" Christians who are not really pouring out their realities, and then we have Christians who pretend to be perfect, as opposed to exposing their raw, powerful feelings, and allowing others to see that God still works through, loves on, and moves mountains in the angry, broken hearted, depressed individuals. God is not the God of only the happy. He is the God of the broken hearted and humble in spirit. He gives strength to the weary, but His strength is only made known when the broken hearted pour out their weaknesses at His feet, and aren't afraid to confess it to others.
Him
He has the greatest mouth. I mean really. His lips are perfect. They are amazing to kiss. His smile lights up the room and my whole heart with it. With his mouth he says the most beautiful of words. With his mouth he whispers things in my ear, when he thinks I'm asleep. His breath on my skin gives me goosebumps every time.
His eyes are the most beautiful of all browns. I have often joked that he has to be blind because he seems to see something so beautiful in me. I truly don't know what he sees when he looks at me...but I know, I know that those eyes are madly in love with me. I know it even when he is angry. I know it when he is sad. I know it when he is elated. His eyes love me more than his mouth is capable of saying.
His heart is magnificent. Even now as I sit here I can almost play it off for you. I know how it feels when it beats under my ear as I lie on his chest. I know its sounds. I know the experience of being completely, truly, deeply, and passionately loved by it. I also know the experience of being the cause of its brokenness.
His hair is black, even though he still hopes it's brown. I loved how each month new pepper specks seem to pop up. I love finding it on our bathroom sink in the morning. I hate when it isn't there anymore. Truth be told, I am terrified of the day when it isn't there anymore. It's funny how bathrooms can become like a ghost town when a man leaves his wife. The bathroom becomes the epitome of all that is missing: toothbrush, deodorant, razor, hair, towel...
His voice plays over and over again in my mind. When I sleep I hear it and when I wake up I search for it. It's almost like a ghost that follows me around, comforting and terrorizing, and heart breaking all day and all night. I am so afraid of forgetting that sound. Yet, with each passing day, the memories become more fuzzy so that it gets to a point where I begin to wonder how far from reality my memory really is...His is the voice that has the ability to instantly enrage me, and instantly calm me. He can make me laugh with few words. His voice is my greatest comfort, second only to his touch.
His touch is like pieces of heaven. It encompasses all of the abilities to nourish, rejuvenate, and empower me. He relaxes me with one touch. He instantly changes my intensity with one gentle placement of his hand...on the small of my back, or on my leg. Those two places just make me go to this place in my mind where I realize all will be well and life will go on.
Oh God how I don't want to forget. I don't want to forget these things!
His eyes are the most beautiful of all browns. I have often joked that he has to be blind because he seems to see something so beautiful in me. I truly don't know what he sees when he looks at me...but I know, I know that those eyes are madly in love with me. I know it even when he is angry. I know it when he is sad. I know it when he is elated. His eyes love me more than his mouth is capable of saying.
His heart is magnificent. Even now as I sit here I can almost play it off for you. I know how it feels when it beats under my ear as I lie on his chest. I know its sounds. I know the experience of being completely, truly, deeply, and passionately loved by it. I also know the experience of being the cause of its brokenness.
His hair is black, even though he still hopes it's brown. I loved how each month new pepper specks seem to pop up. I love finding it on our bathroom sink in the morning. I hate when it isn't there anymore. Truth be told, I am terrified of the day when it isn't there anymore. It's funny how bathrooms can become like a ghost town when a man leaves his wife. The bathroom becomes the epitome of all that is missing: toothbrush, deodorant, razor, hair, towel...
His voice plays over and over again in my mind. When I sleep I hear it and when I wake up I search for it. It's almost like a ghost that follows me around, comforting and terrorizing, and heart breaking all day and all night. I am so afraid of forgetting that sound. Yet, with each passing day, the memories become more fuzzy so that it gets to a point where I begin to wonder how far from reality my memory really is...His is the voice that has the ability to instantly enrage me, and instantly calm me. He can make me laugh with few words. His voice is my greatest comfort, second only to his touch.
His touch is like pieces of heaven. It encompasses all of the abilities to nourish, rejuvenate, and empower me. He relaxes me with one touch. He instantly changes my intensity with one gentle placement of his hand...on the small of my back, or on my leg. Those two places just make me go to this place in my mind where I realize all will be well and life will go on.
Oh God how I don't want to forget. I don't want to forget these things!
my sss.eee.sss
I used to find a comfort in your existence. I believed it was for a purpose. Now I find my mind tossing over and over again...why? Did I ever love you? Did you ever really matter?
I suppose I never converted because at the time I found you incapable of answering my questions. I wonder why it was that you couldn't defend your faith. I wonder why it was that you held on so tightly to something without having any answers as to why.
I loved you so much. I loved the idea of you. I loved the addiction to you. I loved the control of you. I loved your weakness. I loved that I was never really fragile. I loved that I was never helpless. I was never putty. I was always the alpha. There was never any question of your ability to lead me...it simply wasn't there.
So out of some obligation to hold onto my current addiction to not failing, I dove in to your church. I dove in with all that I had and sunk in and analyzed, patronized, and criticized. I remember one night when I was asking you all of these things (I suppose at the time it was almost like a pleading...if you would just realize your foolishness, or prove to me mine...) and you ended up in tears. I think that was the moment I knew it was over. I think that was the particular time when I knew you and I would never be a "we". I think at that time I was not comfortable with accepting that, and neither were you.
Why didn't you convert me? Why didn't you ever challenge me to read the catechism, or to find answers to my questions? Why did you just cop out? Truth be told, I don't know what I believe. I feel lost in a haze of confusion. As I read through the catechism, I find myself riddled with more and more questions. I find myself feeling more and more angry with you.
Maybe it was all a part of His cosmic plan. Maybe if I'd converted I would've married you and a disaster would've ensued. Truth be told, you were never man enough to handle my insanity. I realize that sounds harsh, but I don't mean it harshly. You just didn't have the balls to handle mine. I am quite certain you will one day (or maybe you already have I don't know) make some woman a fine husband...I just always knew how to play you. And I always knew I could never trust you.
Here he comes waltzing around with his stupid answers and aggravating questions and his irritating perspectives and it pisses me off. What is it about him that renders me incapable of just saying "F" him? What is it about his questions that so peaks my curiosity and plays into my need to know and understand? Does he just know how to play my old curiosity shop? Or did You send him here to fight the good fight against me? Did You send him here to prove a point? What if he is wrong? What if I am being led astray? The lobster doesn't have the opportunity to ask these questions, because of the stupid barriers put up. So how do I know I'm not being manipulated (not that I think he is attempting to do that)?
So I blame you S. I blame you for not being smart enough, or strong enough, or capable enough to fight me, then. I blame you for not leading me to a resource who was capable of playing with intelligent people. I blame you for quitting on me.
I suppose I never converted because at the time I found you incapable of answering my questions. I wonder why it was that you couldn't defend your faith. I wonder why it was that you held on so tightly to something without having any answers as to why.
I loved you so much. I loved the idea of you. I loved the addiction to you. I loved the control of you. I loved your weakness. I loved that I was never really fragile. I loved that I was never helpless. I was never putty. I was always the alpha. There was never any question of your ability to lead me...it simply wasn't there.
So out of some obligation to hold onto my current addiction to not failing, I dove in to your church. I dove in with all that I had and sunk in and analyzed, patronized, and criticized. I remember one night when I was asking you all of these things (I suppose at the time it was almost like a pleading...if you would just realize your foolishness, or prove to me mine...) and you ended up in tears. I think that was the moment I knew it was over. I think that was the particular time when I knew you and I would never be a "we". I think at that time I was not comfortable with accepting that, and neither were you.
Why didn't you convert me? Why didn't you ever challenge me to read the catechism, or to find answers to my questions? Why did you just cop out? Truth be told, I don't know what I believe. I feel lost in a haze of confusion. As I read through the catechism, I find myself riddled with more and more questions. I find myself feeling more and more angry with you.
Maybe it was all a part of His cosmic plan. Maybe if I'd converted I would've married you and a disaster would've ensued. Truth be told, you were never man enough to handle my insanity. I realize that sounds harsh, but I don't mean it harshly. You just didn't have the balls to handle mine. I am quite certain you will one day (or maybe you already have I don't know) make some woman a fine husband...I just always knew how to play you. And I always knew I could never trust you.
Here he comes waltzing around with his stupid answers and aggravating questions and his irritating perspectives and it pisses me off. What is it about him that renders me incapable of just saying "F" him? What is it about his questions that so peaks my curiosity and plays into my need to know and understand? Does he just know how to play my old curiosity shop? Or did You send him here to fight the good fight against me? Did You send him here to prove a point? What if he is wrong? What if I am being led astray? The lobster doesn't have the opportunity to ask these questions, because of the stupid barriers put up. So how do I know I'm not being manipulated (not that I think he is attempting to do that)?
So I blame you S. I blame you for not being smart enough, or strong enough, or capable enough to fight me, then. I blame you for not leading me to a resource who was capable of playing with intelligent people. I blame you for quitting on me.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
forgetfullness
It's funny the things that we adore about our spouses. It's also funny to me how quickly we can forget.
I have been sitting here for the past two hours trying to remember what it feels like to kiss my husband. He's only been gone a week and for some reason I can't remember. I can remember what it looks like, but not what it feels like. I can't remember what he smells like either. I can just remember what it feels like when I smell him. It's funny how smells can be so comforting. His smell instantly calms me. When he pulls me close to him, wraps his arms around me and I bury my face in his neck...his smell comforts me. It's also his touch, but it's his smell that my body gets lost in.
He has the softest skin. If you touch his chest it is so smooth, almost like a baby's skin. Then you touch his hands and they are rough and tough and dry. I love the opposition in that. His hands are what he works with. They are torn up, beaten and bruised. But his heart...his heart is soft and comforting. He is so beautiful.
I am afraid of forgetting that. I am afraid of forgetting where all of his freckles are, and his wrinkles, and his scars. I am afraid of forgetting what his hands feel like in mine. I am afraid of forgetting the experience of my face buried in his neck. I am afraid of forgetting...him.
I miss him. My brain has been so clouded over with pain medication because of my stupid back...but now that I am coming out of the haze...I feel so heart broken. I think tonight will be one of those sleep-in-his-t-shirt nights. Maybe that will make me feel better.
I have been sitting here for the past two hours trying to remember what it feels like to kiss my husband. He's only been gone a week and for some reason I can't remember. I can remember what it looks like, but not what it feels like. I can't remember what he smells like either. I can just remember what it feels like when I smell him. It's funny how smells can be so comforting. His smell instantly calms me. When he pulls me close to him, wraps his arms around me and I bury my face in his neck...his smell comforts me. It's also his touch, but it's his smell that my body gets lost in.
He has the softest skin. If you touch his chest it is so smooth, almost like a baby's skin. Then you touch his hands and they are rough and tough and dry. I love the opposition in that. His hands are what he works with. They are torn up, beaten and bruised. But his heart...his heart is soft and comforting. He is so beautiful.
I am afraid of forgetting that. I am afraid of forgetting where all of his freckles are, and his wrinkles, and his scars. I am afraid of forgetting what his hands feel like in mine. I am afraid of forgetting the experience of my face buried in his neck. I am afraid of forgetting...him.
I miss him. My brain has been so clouded over with pain medication because of my stupid back...but now that I am coming out of the haze...I feel so heart broken. I think tonight will be one of those sleep-in-his-t-shirt nights. Maybe that will make me feel better.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
my chiro experience...as best I can communicate it today. :)
About three weeks ago, my spine decided to break. Okay...well not really break but it decided to throw itself out of commission. For three weeks I participated in physical therapy exercises and they did not work. The pain in my back was only growing worse and worse. Shortly before the lobster left for training, my back reached an all time peak of pain. We started wondering if I should go to the ER, or what I should do. I had a left over pain prescription from a surgery a few months back, so I started taking those. They helped, for about two days. Just in time for the lobster to then be gone. :(
On Sunday, my back decided that failure was indeed an option, and it refused to allow me to get out of bed. We are talking pain on such a scale that I was laying flat on the floor bawling my eyes out. Now I realize that a lot of chicks are pansies and they can barely handle a papercut, but I am not one of those people. I took some heavy painkillers and they literally did nothing. I soaked in the tub, and nothing. I tried ice...nothing. I finally called my friend (tripod). Okay, I didn't even call. I texted. She was at church (where I was not at, obviously), so I texted her, "Please call me ASAP". I think it was only five minutes later that she called and I believe I said something along the lines of, "I need help!" She, being the amazing friend that she is, responded, "I am on my way right now." I think my friends know that I must be really freaking out of commission if I am saying I need help.
Anywho...she was here and I started throwing around the idea as to whether or not I should go to the ER. I had already decided a couple of days earlier that I was going to visit a chiropractor (an aspect of back story here...I had never been to a chiro up to this point and I was nervous about it, but the pain was so insane, that I was willing to try anything), but I wasn't sure if I should go to the ER. I think at about three o'clock or so, I had been so stressed by this pain that I decided to to go to the ER.
Now bless the heart of the Army hospital here...but...truthfully? I just have to shake my head. I got in there, and they decided to take an X ray. Nevermind that the doctor literally WALKED away from me mid question...but whatever. I suppose I can overlook terrible bed side manner. After my exceptionally painful X ray, the "radiologist" (I am adding quotation marks because I wonder to what degree this person has actually been trained...we never see them. They are sort of like the wizard of oz. They "exist" but yet we have no idea who they are...) literally wrote on my radiology report "Beautiful spine. Everything looks excellent. No spinal abnormalities." (I was given the report so I am actually quoting him/her). The ER doc said I was having a muscle spasm (that was lasting for three weeks because my spine was "beautiful"). He prescribed me four heavy, heavy drugs: percocet, two muscle relaxers, and an anti inflammatory. He told me all that can be done is to medicate me through the pain and wait for it to "go away."
I am no idiot, and I know better than this ridiculousness. So off to the chiropractor I went on Monday.
At the chiro (I will now refer to him as Dr. B), I had to bring a copy of my X rays for him to see. He pulled them up and we looked at it together. I told him exactly what the Army "radiologist" said the day before and Dr. B said "Okay. Well hopefully everything is fine. Lets have a look!" Um...folks, when my X ray came up...it was PLAIN to see that my spine was not "excellent." Seriously. It doesn't take any sort of education or schooling to know that a frontal view of the spine is not supposed to look like a "C". It also doesn't take an idiot to realize that the spaces between the vertebrae are not supposed to be pencil thin. They are supposed to be thick and pretty. Dr. B said that I have what is the most painful spinal injury: ALL of my thoracic vertebrae are compressed. The pressure on my lumbar is so intense that I have bone spurs on two of my lumbar vertebrae's because of the pressure. My back is not shaped like an "S". It's flat. My rib cages (on either side of my spine) are a half an inch off. My spine is so messed up that even my RIBS are uneven!! What's the short version of this? My back is a mess.
Dr. B said that this can be fixed. He said we don't just "wait" for this to "go away". We need to adjust my spine and put it back to where God intended it to be. After he adjusted me that first day on Monday, I felt SO much better...for about two hours. After two hours, I felt worse! I couldn't possibly believe that was right. Dr. B said I needed to come in every day for this week, so you can bet I went in there on Tuesday morning pretty darn unhappy. I walked in and immediately said, "What have you done to me!? I feel worse! All of these other parts of me are hurting now!" He said, "That is normal. To get better we have to move everything and you're going to hurt more. But over the next couple of days you should start to see improvement." Well...I suppose out of desperation I decided to give him a chance. I mean, after all, the Army's solution was to just basically cross my fingers and hope this goes away...so what could it hurt?
Today is Wednesday and for the first time in three and a half weeks, I woke up with my pain level at about a 9 as opposed to a five million. It felt like a miracle from God! For the first day in weeks, I was able to get dressed with out bawling my eyes out from the sheer pain.
Since my back is doing so well, Dr. B has reduced my visits from every day to every other day. YAY! I have "graduated" to the next level! :)
So, am I sold on chiropractors? You bet your life I am! Dr. B is so amazing! He is kind, gentle and caring. He views health and well being as not something laced with narcotics and heavy painkillers, but rather stuff that through acupuncture, ice packs, and adjustments that can be maintained. He even will put me on an exercise routine once I am out of the acute phase of my injury to get myself healthy. Can I say I love him? Yes! Yes I can.
A couple of things I want to say...I am still on muscle relaxers so my brain is foggy...We are hopeful that as of Friday that will be done. But, I know that this situation didn't occur overnight and it will take a while to get better. Pain is part of that process. But hopefully the meds can be reduced and eliminated quickly. Because I am medicated, if this isn't all that interesting, I apologize. My brain is foggy!
But in short...I will always be a chiro gal. For ever! :)
On Sunday, my back decided that failure was indeed an option, and it refused to allow me to get out of bed. We are talking pain on such a scale that I was laying flat on the floor bawling my eyes out. Now I realize that a lot of chicks are pansies and they can barely handle a papercut, but I am not one of those people. I took some heavy painkillers and they literally did nothing. I soaked in the tub, and nothing. I tried ice...nothing. I finally called my friend (tripod). Okay, I didn't even call. I texted. She was at church (where I was not at, obviously), so I texted her, "Please call me ASAP". I think it was only five minutes later that she called and I believe I said something along the lines of, "I need help!" She, being the amazing friend that she is, responded, "I am on my way right now." I think my friends know that I must be really freaking out of commission if I am saying I need help.
Anywho...she was here and I started throwing around the idea as to whether or not I should go to the ER. I had already decided a couple of days earlier that I was going to visit a chiropractor (an aspect of back story here...I had never been to a chiro up to this point and I was nervous about it, but the pain was so insane, that I was willing to try anything), but I wasn't sure if I should go to the ER. I think at about three o'clock or so, I had been so stressed by this pain that I decided to to go to the ER.
Now bless the heart of the Army hospital here...but...truthfully? I just have to shake my head. I got in there, and they decided to take an X ray. Nevermind that the doctor literally WALKED away from me mid question...but whatever. I suppose I can overlook terrible bed side manner. After my exceptionally painful X ray, the "radiologist" (I am adding quotation marks because I wonder to what degree this person has actually been trained...we never see them. They are sort of like the wizard of oz. They "exist" but yet we have no idea who they are...) literally wrote on my radiology report "Beautiful spine. Everything looks excellent. No spinal abnormalities." (I was given the report so I am actually quoting him/her). The ER doc said I was having a muscle spasm (that was lasting for three weeks because my spine was "beautiful"). He prescribed me four heavy, heavy drugs: percocet, two muscle relaxers, and an anti inflammatory. He told me all that can be done is to medicate me through the pain and wait for it to "go away."
I am no idiot, and I know better than this ridiculousness. So off to the chiropractor I went on Monday.
At the chiro (I will now refer to him as Dr. B), I had to bring a copy of my X rays for him to see. He pulled them up and we looked at it together. I told him exactly what the Army "radiologist" said the day before and Dr. B said "Okay. Well hopefully everything is fine. Lets have a look!" Um...folks, when my X ray came up...it was PLAIN to see that my spine was not "excellent." Seriously. It doesn't take any sort of education or schooling to know that a frontal view of the spine is not supposed to look like a "C". It also doesn't take an idiot to realize that the spaces between the vertebrae are not supposed to be pencil thin. They are supposed to be thick and pretty. Dr. B said that I have what is the most painful spinal injury: ALL of my thoracic vertebrae are compressed. The pressure on my lumbar is so intense that I have bone spurs on two of my lumbar vertebrae's because of the pressure. My back is not shaped like an "S". It's flat. My rib cages (on either side of my spine) are a half an inch off. My spine is so messed up that even my RIBS are uneven!! What's the short version of this? My back is a mess.
Dr. B said that this can be fixed. He said we don't just "wait" for this to "go away". We need to adjust my spine and put it back to where God intended it to be. After he adjusted me that first day on Monday, I felt SO much better...for about two hours. After two hours, I felt worse! I couldn't possibly believe that was right. Dr. B said I needed to come in every day for this week, so you can bet I went in there on Tuesday morning pretty darn unhappy. I walked in and immediately said, "What have you done to me!? I feel worse! All of these other parts of me are hurting now!" He said, "That is normal. To get better we have to move everything and you're going to hurt more. But over the next couple of days you should start to see improvement." Well...I suppose out of desperation I decided to give him a chance. I mean, after all, the Army's solution was to just basically cross my fingers and hope this goes away...so what could it hurt?
Today is Wednesday and for the first time in three and a half weeks, I woke up with my pain level at about a 9 as opposed to a five million. It felt like a miracle from God! For the first day in weeks, I was able to get dressed with out bawling my eyes out from the sheer pain.
Since my back is doing so well, Dr. B has reduced my visits from every day to every other day. YAY! I have "graduated" to the next level! :)
So, am I sold on chiropractors? You bet your life I am! Dr. B is so amazing! He is kind, gentle and caring. He views health and well being as not something laced with narcotics and heavy painkillers, but rather stuff that through acupuncture, ice packs, and adjustments that can be maintained. He even will put me on an exercise routine once I am out of the acute phase of my injury to get myself healthy. Can I say I love him? Yes! Yes I can.
A couple of things I want to say...I am still on muscle relaxers so my brain is foggy...We are hopeful that as of Friday that will be done. But, I know that this situation didn't occur overnight and it will take a while to get better. Pain is part of that process. But hopefully the meds can be reduced and eliminated quickly. Because I am medicated, if this isn't all that interesting, I apologize. My brain is foggy!
But in short...I will always be a chiro gal. For ever! :)
Thursday, April 7, 2011
sticky icky gooey stuff
Denial ain't just a river in Egypt...
I wonder how the next several days will all play out. I wonder how the kids will handle all of these changes.
This past week has been filled with excitement. Lots and lots of activity.
The week began with sickness. My entire family got some weird cold thing. It wasn't terrible, but it grounded us over the weekend.
Monday began with my back stepping up the trouble it's been causing. I have two slipped discs compliments of the triplet pregnancy. Truth be told, my back has been troubling me for the past three weeks. I have ignored it, physical therapy'd it, and tried to push on. As of yesterday, the pain was so intense that I resigned myself to taking painkillers (for those of you who know me, you recognize the immense level of agony I must be in to start taking meds). It was so bad I almost had the lobster take me to the ER. Instead, I opted for this massage called a Chakra (it's completely new agey, not something I knew going into it, but it really helped bring the pain down a few notches). I am now going to be heading to the chiropractor to see if that can help. They are closed though, until Monday, so I will just have to keep pushing through the pain until then. It's okay. I had a C section with no anesthesia (a fete I am quite amazed by to this day), so I figure I can handle this. Especially with the pain meds.
On Tuesday night, one member of the tripod blessed our group (and her family, more importantly. lol) with a beautiful little baby girl. She soldiered through an extremely exhausting labor. It was so amazing to see that precious little angel MBF. I wish I could describe to you what the moment was like. It was so emotionally overwhelming. The last time I saw a baby be born it was clouded with sadness, loss, and heartache (when my three little ones were born...). It was so magnificent to see one be born healthy, strong, and vibrant. I treasure that image in my mind. I will never have words to say what it meant to be there.
So here I am on a Thursday night, packing up my suitcase of emotions in order to say goodbye to my soldier while he goes to train in order to say goodbye for the "big" one. It never seems to fail that one of his soldiers does something stupid the day before a goodbye, and he ends up working. Oh well. It's the life, I suppose. I sort of feel numb. I guess I feel irritated.
I don't really know what I expect from myself. I am just so pissed. My tolerance for stupidity is at an all time low. I have no room for drama or other people's stupid perspectives. I genuinely do not care. At least not today. It's actually quite weird to be in this zone. I have long spent time wondering, worrying, focusing on the thoughts, perspectives, viewpoints, and desires of others. It is only recently that I have been comfortable enough to draw lines and walk away. This I will deal with, that I will not. This I can handle, that I can not.
I have been realizing that a lot of things just aren't worth it so much to me anymore. Spending my moments trying to handle the emotions of everyone else around me is just way too draining. I have enough trouble handling my own. It's weird for me to be in a place where I have friends around whom I can be fragile. I am thankful for it. I think I am finding that instead of having to present a strong front, my weaknesses shine through all the more. It's amazing how fragile one can be, when they know they are around people who love them enough to support them. It feels so refreshing to let my knees buckle. It's so strange...allowing myself to break. It feels so funny to be here, and to not be alone.
So here I am raising my wine glass. I am toasting to the BS that just happens. I am toasting to amazing friends who just get me when I'm pissed, just get me when I'm silly, just get me when I'm sad. I am toasting to a husband who accepts me, insanity and all, and loves me in spite of myself. I am toasting to four kids who are grieving already, despite the fact that he hasn't left yet. I am toasting to being comfortable enough to say "forget you" to the drama queens and people who stress me out. I am raising my glass to the sun setting on a generation of my life....and my knees are totally buckling...
I wonder how the next several days will all play out. I wonder how the kids will handle all of these changes.
This past week has been filled with excitement. Lots and lots of activity.
The week began with sickness. My entire family got some weird cold thing. It wasn't terrible, but it grounded us over the weekend.
Monday began with my back stepping up the trouble it's been causing. I have two slipped discs compliments of the triplet pregnancy. Truth be told, my back has been troubling me for the past three weeks. I have ignored it, physical therapy'd it, and tried to push on. As of yesterday, the pain was so intense that I resigned myself to taking painkillers (for those of you who know me, you recognize the immense level of agony I must be in to start taking meds). It was so bad I almost had the lobster take me to the ER. Instead, I opted for this massage called a Chakra (it's completely new agey, not something I knew going into it, but it really helped bring the pain down a few notches). I am now going to be heading to the chiropractor to see if that can help. They are closed though, until Monday, so I will just have to keep pushing through the pain until then. It's okay. I had a C section with no anesthesia (a fete I am quite amazed by to this day), so I figure I can handle this. Especially with the pain meds.
On Tuesday night, one member of the tripod blessed our group (and her family, more importantly. lol) with a beautiful little baby girl. She soldiered through an extremely exhausting labor. It was so amazing to see that precious little angel MBF. I wish I could describe to you what the moment was like. It was so emotionally overwhelming. The last time I saw a baby be born it was clouded with sadness, loss, and heartache (when my three little ones were born...). It was so magnificent to see one be born healthy, strong, and vibrant. I treasure that image in my mind. I will never have words to say what it meant to be there.
So here I am on a Thursday night, packing up my suitcase of emotions in order to say goodbye to my soldier while he goes to train in order to say goodbye for the "big" one. It never seems to fail that one of his soldiers does something stupid the day before a goodbye, and he ends up working. Oh well. It's the life, I suppose. I sort of feel numb. I guess I feel irritated.
I don't really know what I expect from myself. I am just so pissed. My tolerance for stupidity is at an all time low. I have no room for drama or other people's stupid perspectives. I genuinely do not care. At least not today. It's actually quite weird to be in this zone. I have long spent time wondering, worrying, focusing on the thoughts, perspectives, viewpoints, and desires of others. It is only recently that I have been comfortable enough to draw lines and walk away. This I will deal with, that I will not. This I can handle, that I can not.
I have been realizing that a lot of things just aren't worth it so much to me anymore. Spending my moments trying to handle the emotions of everyone else around me is just way too draining. I have enough trouble handling my own. It's weird for me to be in a place where I have friends around whom I can be fragile. I am thankful for it. I think I am finding that instead of having to present a strong front, my weaknesses shine through all the more. It's amazing how fragile one can be, when they know they are around people who love them enough to support them. It feels so refreshing to let my knees buckle. It's so strange...allowing myself to break. It feels so funny to be here, and to not be alone.
So here I am raising my wine glass. I am toasting to the BS that just happens. I am toasting to amazing friends who just get me when I'm pissed, just get me when I'm silly, just get me when I'm sad. I am toasting to a husband who accepts me, insanity and all, and loves me in spite of myself. I am toasting to four kids who are grieving already, despite the fact that he hasn't left yet. I am toasting to being comfortable enough to say "forget you" to the drama queens and people who stress me out. I am raising my glass to the sun setting on a generation of my life....and my knees are totally buckling...
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Words With Friends, and other stuff.
I want to let you in on a little secret: I am OBSESSED with Words With Friends. I love that game! I have coerced the lobster into playing with me, and it has sort of become one of our "things". Some of this is because I don't know enough people who play it. So if you're reading this...play Words With Friends and then search for me!!! If you can't find me, let me know. We'll connect. I promise. Prepare for a throw down! HAHA!
As I sit here writing, my six year old daughter, is enjoying a leisurely read of the Army Times. The sight was so funny to me that I could barely stop laughing. I am always struck by her intelligence and her desire to understand. She has such wisdom and insight at such a young age. It really astounds me.
My husband's deployment afghan is almost complete. I am starting into the planning, creating, and presentation of his deployment package. This entity is quite lengthy. I usually write him enough letters to open every single day, until mail can reasonably be expected to be delivered (approximately two months worth). Included in this envelope are also pictures, foot and hand prints (of the kids), momentous occasions, and a few personal things. This has been a tradition with us for every single one of his deployments. I still have the contents of each previous package (yes...all four of them). He saves them all and brings them home. It's actually really neat to read through the letters. I love the reminders of where my mind was at each of those times.
It's been a wonderful weekend, laced with tidbits of sadness, but strung together with enormous amounts of joy and peace. I am so thankful for all the beautiful gifts I have been blessed with. :) Happy Sunday!
As I sit here writing, my six year old daughter, is enjoying a leisurely read of the Army Times. The sight was so funny to me that I could barely stop laughing. I am always struck by her intelligence and her desire to understand. She has such wisdom and insight at such a young age. It really astounds me.
My husband's deployment afghan is almost complete. I am starting into the planning, creating, and presentation of his deployment package. This entity is quite lengthy. I usually write him enough letters to open every single day, until mail can reasonably be expected to be delivered (approximately two months worth). Included in this envelope are also pictures, foot and hand prints (of the kids), momentous occasions, and a few personal things. This has been a tradition with us for every single one of his deployments. I still have the contents of each previous package (yes...all four of them). He saves them all and brings them home. It's actually really neat to read through the letters. I love the reminders of where my mind was at each of those times.
It's been a wonderful weekend, laced with tidbits of sadness, but strung together with enormous amounts of joy and peace. I am so thankful for all the beautiful gifts I have been blessed with. :) Happy Sunday!
Saturday, April 2, 2011
randomness
Across the room, my four kids are sitting at the dining room table. Each of the girls have acquired for themselves coloring books. They separated out the crayons so that they each have some. The boy is more interested in watching the girls color, than coloring himself. I am struck by the sight of this. They all used to be so little!
Time has flown by so quickly. It seems like we women say that so much, especially in relation to the growth of our children. These kids used to be babies! Now, here they are, writing and coloring and reading and growing.
This morning the lobster asked me if I wanted him to reenlist. For the first time since having children, I told him no. I think he was baffled that I actually said that. He sat there in silence for a couple of seconds just looking at me, then looking out the window, then back at me. He is used to him being the one tired of the Army, and me being the one that says, "Keep on going. We can do this." I just don't feel that anymore. So will this be it? Will we separate from the Army twelve and half years after going into it? I don't know. It's ultimately his decision. It very well could be that this deployment will be our last and that this will be the end. Five times to the middle east is kind of a nice "complete" number...right?
I wonder how my oldest triplet will handle the chaos that is about to descend. As much as I work to prepare, train and equip my children for our current lifestyle, and the things that may come along with it, she doesn't comprehend things like the rest of my kids. Her brain functions differently. The strain of goodbye is effecting her greatly. Stress brings out autistic behavior immensely so. Children with autism deeply struggle with change in routines. Her particular weakness is with emotion. She can not handle them. She has been hurting herself again. I can see her slipping away into herself again. I know we will make it through. I know God will continue to give me insight and understanding in ways to reach her and connect with her. It is always interesting how God helps us handle the stuff that comes our way...
As I was deep in thought about triplet numero uno, triplet numero tres comes walking over to me from the table marching. She has the coolest personality ever. She literally thinks funny! I wonder what the circus is like inside her brain. She emanates funny thoughts. While coloring, she was making the funniest facial expressions. She walks around with such a silly spring to her step. She has always been such a firecracker. I wonder what it was like in her world to create such a fighter in her.
Well, I had better get off of here. I need to get some cleaning done on this house. Plus, the lobster looks like he needs a laugh or something, so I'd better start thinking funny thoughts... a man walked into a bar and said ouch! :) Have a great Saturday!
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