September 11 and Baseball

At precisely 7:15am every weekday my boy crawls in bed with me to begin our daily ritual:  he reads me the box scores from all of the major league baseball games the night before (to include division standings and any injury reports) while I silently wish I had a barista on speed dial who delivered to my bedside.

Today was no different.  Except that it was.

Boy: "Mom, listen up.  This is important.  The Cubs beat the Reds but the Pirates won.  Mom, did you hear me?"

Me:  "Yes, boy.  I heard you.  Um, who's pitching tonight?"

By asking this, I foolishly think I can buy myself another 30-45 seconds of slumber.  Wrong.

Boy: "Today is September 11th right?  So tonight...."

I didn't hear what he said next.

Today is September 11th.  That date still makes me feel vomitous.  And I felt even more vomitous when I realized that I should probably remind him of the significance of today just in case someone mentions it at school.

Me: "Boy, do you know what today is?"

Boy: "No, why?"

I take a deep breath and tell him in the simplest words possible about today.  I tell him that there are some bad people in the world but that there are hundreds of thousands of good ones, too.  I tell him that his cousins have an uncle they never got to meet.  I tell him that the men and women in the military work hard to make sure that our country is safe.  And I tell him that today is a day to remember.

He suddenly puts down his tablet, looks at me exclaims, "Whoa.  Does dad know about all of this?!"

I can't help but smile and sort of chuckle.

Me: "Yes, dad knows."

Boy: "Ok, good.  Because as long as dad knows, we'll be safe."

If only it were that simple.

But for him, today, it is.  And since he's grown up with a dad that has deployed eight times, a mom that survived those eight times on too much caffeine and probably not enough patience, I'm glad it's that simple for him.  Selfishly, I'm glad he doesn't know too much about what happened 12 years ago today.

For now, he can spend his time memorizing ERA's and stolen base stats.  When he's older I will make certain he remembers.  And not just today, but every day.

Today?  I will remember enough for both of us.

Footloose and fancy free! Just like our country.

The stars have aligned yet again this summer and we were able to dump our kids off let our kids spend some time with their grandparents.  12 whole days with no kids...just me and my soldier.  We plan on doing our best to cram everything we can into these 12 days.  And I'm fairly confident the grandparents will be doing the exact same thing.

Since last night was the 4th, we decided to just walk down to the golf course to see if we could see the fireworks.  Fresh from our kid-free dinner at my favorite Mexican restaurant, I didn't really care where we watched from, I was just happy to not have to be schlepping a gazillion blankets, chairs and snacks down there with me. 

So there we were, walking hand in hand, dog on leash at our side (just like it was 1999...hey, it rhymes!) and talking about our kids.  I mentioned to my soldier how much our daughter missed him on our trip.  I went on to describe how she kept asking to call him while we were on vacation, how she got tearful when she realized she would miss his birthday this year, and so on.  And then my soldier said, "Just imagine what she'll be like during the next deployment." 

BUZZKILL. 

"Uh-huh.  Oh, right.  Yep, that will suck," I replied. 

And that was it.  We moved on to the next topic.  But 24 hours later I haven't moved on.  After eight trips across the big pond you'd think I would move on a bit faster, but I haven't yet. I know he'll go again. It's not if, it's when.  But something about the matter-of-factness way he said it got to me. 

We continued our walk, arrived at the golf course and the fireworks started.  Standing there with him for those 20 minutes reminded me that my soldier's matter-of-fact attitude about his deployments is the reason our country is so special.  He and thousands of others just like him are willing to do what is asked of them over and over again (insert shout-out to my BFAM, Sean here). They do what is asked of them so that this country can remain free. 

I hope the next time a deployment arises I will remember to have the same attitude.  Until then I will spend the next 12 days enjoying my freedom. As a matter of fact, I hope you all do too.

A new inductee

Yesterday I attended a ceremony of sorts.  It wasn't a promotion ceremony (those are fun because it means someone is getting a pay raise!) or a retirement ceremony (those are fun because it means someone is getting out of the Army, which also means a pay raise!).  It was an induction ceremony (and no, no one came home with prescription narcotics and a screaming infant).  I'll get to the ceremony in a moment. 

My family and my 2 college friends that read this blog know that my son has one teacher I really like, and one I could do without.  For the purpose of this blog, we'll call the one I like Ms. T.  Ms. T is the MOST WONDERFUL preschool teacher of all time.  Why?  Because she loves my son like he is her own, that's why. I drop my son off each morning knowing that if he can't be with me or his grandparents, she is the next best thing.  Needless to say, she is very special to us.

So,  when I heard that her 19 year-old son left for a year in Afghanistan last week  I wanted to cry.  This wonderful woman who gives so much to my son day after day, now has a son in what I consider to be the worst place on the face of the earth.  I hate Afghanistan.  (I hate Iraq too, but right now I hate Afghanistan more.  Some of my favorite peeps are currently in Afghanistan, so I hate it more).  However, now is not the time to cry (I cry when I read to my daughter's class or when I see that one coffee commercial when Peter comes home to surprise his parents on Christmas morning).  Now is the time we rally and welcome Ms. T. into our fold.

Another mom, Ms. Awesome, suggested we put together a deployment basket for Ms. T.  So four of us moms (who all happen to be Army wives, by the way) assembled  a basket of goodies to get her through the next year.  

The basket contained:
Blue star sticker for her car or window
Army travel mug
Coffee
Trashy beach read
Chocolate (duh)
Bottle of wine (double duh)
Stress-relief/relaxation tea
Handmade cards from our kids
Notes from us
380 marbles and 2 Ball jars (so she can transfer one a day until he is home)

Ms. Awesome wrapped it up in cellophane and tied it with a big yellow ribbon and bow.  It was beautiful!  (I SO wish I would have taken a picture).

Yesterday after school we, along with our children, presented it to her.  She cried.  We cried.  We freaked out our kids.  It was awesome.  She was speechless, and thanks to our tears, so were we.  I think we each hugged her 2 or 3 times before one of us (totally not me) composed ourselves enough to spit out how much we love her and will support her in any way we can. 

Welcome to the sisterhood, Ms. T! May the year go fast, may you get many emails and phone calls from your soldier, may you not watch too much TV news coverage, and may you accept our thanks for raising such a fine young man.  We love you!

The Fab Five

Earlier this week, a friend posted an article on Facebook about the 5 friends Oprah says every woman must have.  You can read that article here.  I thought it sounded interesting, so I read on.  Truthfully, I read it to see if I had any of the friends that Oprah says I should have.  I do, but as I do with any advice/self-help/opinion pieces I read, I try to decipher how this pertains to me as a military spouse.  You know what's coming next, right?  Without further ado, I present The Five Friends Every Military Spouse Should Have, according to Amy. 

The Senior Advisor - No offense to all of you "senior" spouses out there, but you know who you are.  I have been fortunate enough to have a handful of these in my almost 13 years as a military spouse and am even more fortunate that hardly any of them are on Facebook or blogger.  I wouldn't want to have to admit  that I consider them a "senior" anything.  The senior advisors are your friends, but they are also your mentors.  They usually have older kids, a higher-ranking husband, and really cool furniture they've gotten from their overseas duty stations.  These ladies are never short on good advice, a calm demeanor and some sort of yummy baked good they just so happen to have made that morning (and seriously, HOW do they DO that?).  Their door is always open and they always have time for a toddler-crazed stay-at-home mom with a quick question.  If you don't have one of these in your military spouse arsenal...get one. 

The Decorator -  The decorator is one of those women that makes living in a different house every two years look easy.  Her furniture ALWAYS fits and LOOKS GOOD where ever she puts it.  She can pick up an ottoman at IKEA, a rug in Texas at a flea market, some curtains at Target and make them work in every house she lives in until they retire.  And, painting?  She makes it look like a breeze.  The decorator will paint every room in every house they live in even if it means she has to paint it back before they move.  The decorator most likely also has a husband that gives her semi-free reign to decorate as she pleases, thus making her even more valuable.   Husbands frequently go along with decorating changes if some poor sap down the street has had to endure it too and they can share fabric shopping war stories.  The decorator is always willing to come help you move a couch or give you her opinion on a new coffee table.  I love a good decorator friend.

The Fertile Myrtle -  Everyone needs at least one Fertile Myrtle in their friend bank. The Fertile Myrtle has numerous children, numerous pets and an unlimited supply of patience.  NOTHING fazes the Fertile Myrtle.  Your toddler spilled milk on her rug?  No biggie.  It matches the spill one of her children placed there earlier this morning.  You need someone to watch your two kids at the last minute because your babysitter canceled?  Puh-lease!  What is two more kids when you already have four or five of your own?  The Fertile Myrtle is happy to oblige.  Her theory is the more the merrier and she honestly believes that to be true.  The Fertile Myrtle is who you thought you wanted to be, but 2 kids and a deployment later you realized there was no way that was going to happen without winning the lottery and hiring a full-time nanny.  You might not aspire to be a Fertile Myrtle, but you need one as a friend.  Trust me.

The Anti-Spouse - The Anti-Spouse is a different breed.  She is the one that says things like, "I don't know what my husband does, because we don't talk about his job when he gets home."  She may not even know what the inside of his office looks like, because she's never been there.  To her the Army (or Navy, or Air Force, or Marines) is just HIS job, not THEIR way of life.  He does his thing, she and the kids do theirs.  It may seem strange to you, but it works for them. You can hold endless conversations about fashion, child-rearing, dieting, relationships, just about anything and the military will never enter the conversation.   The Anti-Spouse always provides a good reality check if you find yourself using more acronyms than actual words in a sentence.  Warning:  Do not confuse The Anti-Spouse with The Angry Spouse.  The Angry Spouse is a sad, bitter woman full of endless complaints about the military.   The Angry Spouse is usually not happy with her marriage, her children or even the produce at the commissary, and she will find a way to work her discontent into every conversation.  Stay away from The Angry Spouse.  Or better yet, find another Angry Spouse and introduce them to each other.

The Battle Buddy - The Battle Buddy is by far the best friend for a military spouse to have.  She is your go-to gal for all things, all the time.  Need a pair of earrings to match your formal dress?  She'll bring over her entire jewelry box.  Think you might want to train for a 1/2 marathon?  She'll lace up her running shoes and train with you.  Need a good cry because you haven't talked to or gotten an email from your deployed husband in a week?  She is at your door with a kleenex 3-pack and a movie to occupy the kids so the both of you can cry in peace.  The Battle Buddy is worth her weight in gold.  If you are extremely lucky, you may find a Battle Buddy at each duty station.  If not, don't worry.  There is an unwritten rule that once a Battle Buddy, always a Battle Buddy, even from thousands of miles away. 

So there you have it.  My unofficial guide to The 5 Friends Every Military Spouse Should Have.  Thoughts?  Comments?  I'd love to hear them!  Unless of course you think of ME as your senior advisor.  You can keep that thought to yourself.  :)

Mrs. Trimble, guest reader

A note came home from school the second week of December.  Mind you, notes have been coming home on what seems like a daily basis. Everything from picture retake reminders to requests for donations for the mitten tree. But this one was "special," my daughter said.  This one was asking for parents to come in and share a favorite Christmas book or tradition.  With big blue eyes my daughter handed it to me and asked, "so what book are you bringing, mom?" Fine.  If this will make her happy, I can certainly find 20 minutes out of my Christmas season to go sit and read a book or talk to her class.  No problem.  Add it to my list of things to do.  I got it covered.

I checked the "yes" box and sent the form back to school.  But that was on December 10.  I told myself I would worry about what I was actually going to read or share later.  Well, later was yesterday.  Suddenly it was time to go to school.  I grabbed the first book I saw, dropped JT off at the neighbors house and raced to school.  I got to her classroom on time to find 18 3rd graders sitting in a perfect semi-circle on the floor.  I saw what was obviously the teacher's chair perfectly placed in the middle of the semi-circle.  And then I saw it. THE BOOK.  The book I bought for Natalie 4 years ago when her dad was deployed for Christmas.  The book she had obviously picked for me to read and brought with her to school in her backpack.  The book I cannot make it through without crying. This was not going to end well.

I said a little prayer that went something like this, "Lord, please don't let me scare these children by boo-hooing all over the pages of this book," picked up The Soldier's Night Before Christmas and started reading.   Little giggles erupted every now and then and things were just peachy until page 10.  You see, page 10 is where the Santa of Soldiers stands back, takes a look at the soldiers asleep in their racks, and renders a salute.  It gets me every time.  This time was no exception.  Except this time I had 18 pairs of eyes on me.  I couldn't hide the fact that my voice was breaking with a cough.  I couldn't pass off my tears as "something in my eye."  They were on to me.

I summoned the courage to look at them and what I saw surprised me.  I saw one little girl with her head down, crying.  One little boy was up on his knees trying to crane his neck to look at me from under the book, tears in his eyes.   And I saw my daughter wiping away the tears from the corners of her eyes too.  I was expecting them to think I was nutty.  Why was this mom in here crying while reading us a book?  What's her deal? I expected a bunch of, "what's wrong with your mom, Natalie?"  "Hey, Mrs. Trimble, why are you crying?"  However, that was not the case.  These kids were WAY more mature than I gave them credit for.

I made it through the rest of the book without too many more stumbles.  I closed the book, took a deep breath and said, "Raise your hand if your mom or dad has ever been deployed during the holidays."  What followed was one of the most moving conversations I have ever been a part of.  I wish I had a video recording of it.  So many stories. So much pride in their voices talking about their moms and dads.  These little people have endured so much in their mere eight or nine years on this earth. And they do it over and over again. They do it with grace. They do it with courage.   They do it without even knowing they do it.  That's what makes them so very special.

As I was leaving the classroom, I heard a little girl whisper to Natalie, "Natalie, your mom is cool."  I smiled.  Little does that girl know, I think she is the cool one.  I would tell her myself, but it would probably make me cry.  Again.