Navy Normal

Well, one month down.

A fact I would know even without a calendar.
Because there are normal things that happen with the Beans, when that man of mine leaves....

The first week is some sad (not a lot) because the length of the separation hasn't sunk in. But it is definitely present because they are used to having Daddy in EVERYTHING, and suddenly - he's not. This means a lot of hugs. Extra time spent to hear their hearts. And focusing on the good even in the hard.

The second week is when Bitty Bean starts waking up with nightmares. Screaming and sobbing and wild eyed. And Boy Bean normally starts a hunger strike around the end of week two/beginning of week three.

Week three is when the rest of the Beans (that is THREE humans, if you lost track) get nightmares and start sleepwalking and are fearful of Daddy dying and never coming home. Week three = no sleep for mama.

But Week four? That is the week I get a peek into 10 years down the road when we will have 4 adolescents in the house, all full of emotion and hormones. Week four is crammed full of sobbing and whining and fighting and disobedience and lines-in-the-sand and epic battles and annoying-your-sibling-to-death.

This week has been rough. 

For the past few days, whenever we are home...someone is crying.
At least one person.
Typically 3.
I have sat and had battles of pure will with my 2 year old man-child.
I've sought to comfort and divine why the 4 year old Bitty Bean was sobbing for her 5th straight hour...Bitty Bean said she had no idea but the tears just wouldn't stop.
The Blonde Jumping Bean cries until she laughs maniacally and then cries again - and that has gone on for 3 hours; interrupted by short bursts of energy to hurl a matchbox car at any passer by.
The String Bean (at the mature age of almost-8) could have a PH.D in eye-rolling. And arm-crossing. And basically thinking she's too cool for everything.


But overall?
These kids are awesome. 
They are resilient.
They are a clan.
They are mine.

So while, yes, week four is not really my favorite week....sweet, precious moments have happened anyway....

Jumping Bean was sobbing today and she would not tell me what was going on.
But String Bean? She just sat next to her sister and said,

"You can cry. Its okay. If you want to talk - I'm here. If you don't - I'm here. I love you. This is what sisters do." 

After continuing to cry (deep, shoulder shaking, bring-on-the-hiccups, sobs) for 5 more minutes...she finally choked out what the problem was. She was sad about a friend moving away - her very good friend from kindergarten - and worried that she would never see her again. And worried about starting first grade in a new school. And scared of riding the bus. And petrified of no one being her friend.

And then, the older sister who had rolled her eyes at the antics of the blondie all day long; the older sister who has been suddenly "too cool" to hang with the younger kids; the older sister who is extremely rational. That one? She just hugged her Jumping Bean tight.

She said,

"Of course you will have friends at school! You have me and you have Jesus! And only crazy people wouldn't like you - because you are awesome."

To which Jumping Bean replied,
"But I'M crazy! I LIKE crazy people!"

:)

Then, tonight before bed, Bitty Bean started crying. Sobbing really...I mean, there was a lot of snot. When I asked what was the problem, she said,

 "It feels like Daddy died. You know, Mommy? I mean, he's gone on the boat but we never see him. I don't want him dead.  I want him home."

And Jumping Bean immediately went over and hugged her. And said,

"We all want him home. But he's doing his job. And taking care of us. He'll come home soon. 

When his job is done."

And THAT is the Navy Normal.

~Whitney Copyright 2013

Yuk.

There are some really awesome things about the military....
The Balls
The Homecomings
The Traveling
Having friends all around the world
Being able to speak acronym

But today is not any of those.

Today is the yucky part.
Today we said goodbye.
For much of the year.

....explaining to your children when they see Daddy next, all 3 girls will have had a birthday, and they will be in different grades...might be one of my least favorite things to do ever.

Watching My Love read stories last night to each Bean, knowing that scene won't happen again, is a very hard thing to see.

He will not get to snuggle them as 7, 5, 3, and 2, again.

Watching the final bag get packed - the toiletries removed from the bathroom - the last flight suit, donned.
Loading it all in the car.
Pulling out of the garage as a family of 6.

Pulling into squadron,
unbuckling children,
individually hugging,
tears filling eyes,
arms gripping necks,
whispering goodbyes.

Rain falling, 
tears falling, 
pulling away, 
as a family of 5.

This has not been my easiest day.

I know we will be fine. We will all do our jobs and take care of our responsibilities at home and aboard the ship. But that doesn't make the tearing apart easier. You can prepare for a million things...but the pulling away without your favorite person? That always hurts. Every time. You learn how to handle it better - you have more tools in your arsenal each time - but it doesn't make the goodbye easier.

So, if I'm a little less chipper than usual, please forgive me. 

Today is my day I've allotted time to be sad.  

If I need a breakdown again....I should have time on Sunday night. 

~Whitney
 Copyright 2013

Going Crazy....

My room is clean.
And it makes me cry.

There is a part of military separations that you don't really think about...the collecting, the prepping, the gathering of items.  And when they are gathered....they have to sit somewhere. In a house with 4 Beans - those things have to sit somewhere they will not be bothered. So, our room has been a disaster for the last month. Cliff bars, bedding, towels, uniforms, toiletries to last FOREVER, laundry detergent, pillows....all of this (and MORE!) have been lining the walls of our room. Stacked at the foot of our bed. Filling the empty spaces.

Our room is my haven - it isn't fancy, it isn't special, but it is devoid of toys and not a Kid Zone. It is my peaceful place. My easiest room to keep neat. So this last month of having sea bags and Bed, Bath, and Beyond bags, and boots, and all sorts of things messing up my one clean space....has been a rather big source of tension for me.  I couldn't go chill and bury my head in the sand about this deployment.  Because it was all around me. There was nowhere for me to hide.

But now - today - it is clean. The sea bags were loaded. The bedding was packed. I could vacuum all the spaces that are supposed to be clean - because all the gear was gone.  And you would think that would make me happy. But it didn't. Seeing all those things loaded into a car, knowing they were headed straight for a boat...not to return for a horribly-long time...it was not a completely sane moment. I know some of my emotional psychotic triggers....so, I sent the kids downstairs before I started vacuuming. And melting down. Crying that ugly cry where your lip shakes and you hope no one ever sees.

So, yes, my room is clean.
The floor has lovely vacuum marks.
But the closet is half-full.
The armoire has an empty shelf and an empty drawer.
The shoe rack is missing boots and brown shoes and running shoes and flip flops and slippers.

And my tears are falling.  

Loving a military man does not mean you love less deeply. 

It doesn't mean you love less strongly. 

It means your love is tested through fire.  

It means you hurt and miss and cry. 

It means you pick yourself up and wipe your tears and continue on with life. 

With loving.  

From afar.  

So, while I may be making the short trip to crazy rather often - it is because I love this man more than anything in the world. 

Being apart is hard - but he is worth it.  

And I love his crazy as much as he loves mine. :) 

~Whitney
 Copyright 2013

Miracles are happening!

So, this post might not interest a single soul. But I don't care. I want to write down what I'm feeling; what I experienced; how my world has been rocked - because I want to remember this.

Last picture with glasses

I am blind as a bat. 

Well, I was.

I have been that way forever. I picked out my first pair of glasses the week before I turned 10. Thankfully, that was back before everything was digital....so I don't have a million pictures to document my awesome glasses. (At least I thought they were awesome!)  They were seafoam green with purple splotches...and they enabled me to discover there actually ARE individual leaves at the tops of trees. (They weren't just a green blob at the top!) I could read stop signs and road signs and even billboards through those amazing spectacles. I felt like I possessed a miracle.

Then, when I was 16, I was finally able to have contacts. Another amazing world opened up - sunglasses!  I didn't have to wipe my contacts dry if I was caught in the rain. I could even lay down on my side and watch tv. (It's the little things people)

But back in November of 2011 - I had a horrible eye infection. I was not allowed to drive - at all - for 6 weeks. They honestly didn't know if my eyes would ever be able to heal and recover from the damage that had been done.  I was on steroids and antibiotics and anti-inflammatory eye drops from November of 2011 until November 2012.  I was not allowed to wear contacts - I had to be very careful to not re-injure my eyes. I had always hoped I would be able to have eye surgery...but with the infection and the scarring that resulted, it seemed like a very long shot. 

Then, in December - last month - my Opthamologist said the most amazing words, "Your eyes have healed enough. We can evaluate you for Lasik."

I cried. I laughed. I was an emotional basket case. 

Thankfully, I've become pretty great friends with him over the last year - and his wife is pregnant - so he wasn't freaked out by my water-works at all.
I mean, I was crying, and he hadn't even said I could have the surgery.
I was just finally healthy enough to be evaluated for the surgery.

So, 2 weeks later, I was back at the office. Being put through test after test. Being grilled about my health. Nervously awaiting the verdict. Would my eyes be able to have the surgery? Could I do it?

YES.

I cried again.

I was so excited and so overwhelmed at the idea of getting up to pee in the night and not walking into a wall - I couldn't help but cry.

All of this brings me to yesterday. 

Yesterday was the day of my miracle.
Of sight.

I'll admit - I wasn't so very worried about the laser. I was, however, pretty nervous about the valium. I don't take meds. Like, ever. So I had no idea of how I would respond to the valium. I was worried it would make me nauseous or dizzy or break out in hives. Thankfully, it just made me really, really, REALLY, silly. (Which, if you know me, is saying something.)  

going "pink" for our Ladies Christmas party

The Doctor was very kind and came in to verbally walk me through the procedure before it all went down. It sounded so simple. So quick. No big deal. Which kinda made me feel stupid for having my stomach flipping upside down in knots. (Note - HE didn't make me feel stupid, that was all me.)

They put my hair in one of those super-sexy-doctor-hair-net-thingys....and off I walked down the hall to the procedure room. (I don't have a picture. My bad.)

I handed the Doctor my glasses, placed them in his blurry hand, and laid down.  The entire room was blurry. The lights, the machine, the Doctor's hands which were just inches from my face.

Listen - when I say I was blind, I mean it. You know that BIG "E" on the eye chart? I couldn't see it. It was just a slightly gray fuzzy area with white fuzz around it.  I was blind. I walked into walls. My vision could not even be corrected to 20/20 with glasses or contacts. 

I laid back on the bed, and slid under the machine's arm.  A piece of plastic holding my eyelid still. A blinking light. No moving for 8 seconds. Remove. Repeat. Some tape on all lashes. A tool on my eyeball. Hold still for 20 seconds. Noise. Smelling smoke. Remove. Repeat.
Then I sat up.
And I could see.
I could SEE.

The doctor was not a blurry mass. He was a person. He helped me off the table - we walked out of the room, and they took my picture. And I could SEE the camera. I didn't just look in the general direction of the camera - I looked AT the camera.

And I cried.
I cried when they told me it was normal for it to blurry - for it to look like I was looking through water. I cried because it was so much clearer than that. Already it looked as clear as if I was looking through dirty glasses. Where less than 10 minutes earlier everything was a blur - it was just slightly soft edges. When he checked my eyes - for the first time I can ever remember - I could actually SEE the ear I was supposed to be looking at.
So, I cried.

On the way home, I laughed. With wild, valium induced, abandon.  I was shocked at how heavy my eyelids were. I could not stop laughing!  And giggling.  Once home, I slept for 2 hours, and then was good to go. 100% ready for normal life.

 After I woke up from my nap. (Please ignore the Boy Bean snot on my shoulder)

Now, I'm sporting these AWESOME protective goggles for 7 days - round the clock - and seeing clearer than I ever have. At my post-op my vision was 20/20 in my right eye and 20/15 in my left. Absolutely amazing.
I'll admit, it is odd to not think about glasses or contacts. I've worn those things for 21 years...and I feel slightly odd without them.
The best part about the goggles? People at church last night didn't even think something was up. They thought I was dressing up or doing something silly and the goggles were just a part of my get up!

Maybe the girl rockin' the seafoam green glasses is who I will always be. :)

~Whitney
 Copyright 2013

Psycho

I love being Mama.

LOVE it.

But.

This last week, I would have really, really, really liked to have a substitute. A stand-in. A wife-of-my-own.

I've had my fill cleaning up bodily fluids....all 5 of us had the flu. It was awful. TERRIBLE.
I'm tired of comforting someone else while concentrating to re-lift my eye-lids.
I'm tired of waking up every 30 minutes dealing with someone's nightmares.
I'm tired.
Really, REALLY tired.

And I'm tired of laundry.
24 loads in one week...and one still on deck.
(For some strange reason, I thought it would be interesting to keep a running tally of how much laundry I had to do when the flu hit our house. The jury is out on if this was encouraging or demoralizing.)

In fact, I'm so very tired of laundry....that I might have gone slightly psycho today.

My Bitty Bean - whom I love, even though she is still allergic to pooping in the toilet - fell asleep in the car on the way to piano lessons.

After String Bean raced inside, and Jumping Bean unbuckled, and I unloaded Boy Bean (who had to be carried because his shoes were miraculously eaten by the Swagger Wagon), I went out to wake the sleeping munchkin.

She had an accident.
All over her princess dress.
All over her car seat.
Into her brand new running shoes.

I didn't have a spare outfit, or shirt, or anything.
No panties.
NOTHING.

So with 3 wipes and a too-small-diaper stolen from her brother, I cleaned her up and covered her business.  But it was chilly tonight - she got pee on her jacket - I couldn't just let her go naked!

Typically, at least one of the girls is wearing numerous layers and could spare some article of clothing; not this time.  I was wearing my basic workout pants and top...although they were not worked out in today. (gotta stay honest)

I gave her my shirt. She thought that was the funniest thing EVER.

Then I zipped my fleece up to the very top. 

As I was placing Bitty Bean's soaking wet things in a bag, I just started crying.
I honestly don't really know why.
It could be because I'm tired.
Or because I didn't want to have to go home and do dinner and clean up and homework and bed time. Or maybe because I feel extremely behind schedule because of when the flu hit.

But no, I am pretty sure I was crying because I didn't want to do any more laundry.

I had spent most of my day rescuing the house from our illness...but when we returned it was still a wreck.

Dishes.

Laundry.

And one very industrious 5 year old who thought decorating the kid table with a pencil was a good idea.

We danced through dinner. (A complete cop-out for me, I made pancakes.)
Then we all snuggled down in blankets on the floor and watched Rudolph the Red-nosed Reindeer as dictated by our Advent Calendar/shoe box.

And you know what?

I love being Mama.

LOVE IT.  :)




~Whitney Copyright 2012

Truth...take 2

I don't know if this is normal for all people about to deal with deployment...but it is normal for me.

Although, I didn't really know it was normal...I've always chalked it up to being pregnant/crazy. Apparently, it is just my normal/crazy.

Good to know.

What am I talking about?

The amazing ability to be sitting and talking with my husband about something random like stationery, and laughing heartily...until suddenly I'm not.  Suddenly, I'm fighting back tears and losing miserably. I'm crying over STATIONERY!! And I'm just a ball of emotions and I don't want to be wasting time crying but I can't stop it. In a half second something triggered something and the length of time apart screams to the front of my mind.

So I cry.
I used to fight the random moments of meltdown.
Not anymore.
Now I know they will come at typically the most inconvenient moment possible.
I conserve energy and let the tears come - I recover faster, if I just let it flow.
I used to think it was a sign of weakness, that people would think less of me if I let my guard down...or that it wouldn't be good for the Beans to see Mommy have moments of insanity.
But I was wrong.
It is a blessing to allow people in to encourage and comfort.
It is comforting for the Beans to know I miss him too. It gives them space to be sad. It shows them it is possible to thoroughly enjoy a moment and still have a spot where things are not perfect.

I can't walk around as a basket case - and I don't think I do  - but allowing myself the freedom to actually register all the feelings is a good thing.

Thankfully, My Love knows me very well and is no longer freaked out by these unknown buttons that make me cry.

Like onions. Yep, onions.
I was cutting onions the other day (which always makes my chronic dry-eyes water like they are a reservoir) and I wasn't sad. I was happy!!! I was standing in the kitchen with a friend talking about curtains and fabric and then - out of nowhere - I started crying for real. I don't know why or how or what...but it just hit me that I will miss that man terribly.

He wants to fix it - to make me not cry and be sad.
But he can't.
This is his job.
A job we are thankful to have.
He must leave.
We must carry on in different parts of the world fulfilling our jobs.

Sometimes he just hugs me and lets me cry.
Sometimes he reminds me how very hard this will be on him too. A fact all too easy to forget.

I am not the only one dreading his absence.

He will miss birthdays and holidays and boring days and good days and bad days and silly stories and bed time stories and boo boos that need kissing and hearts that need mending. 

He won't be here for months of family movie night. 

He won't get to smell freshly washed children or laugh at how filthy they can get. 

He'll miss random hugs and kisses and spontaneous squeals of "I love you!" 

He'll miss teeth being lost and inches being grown and milestones being reached. 

He'll miss an entire phase of each Bean's life....poorly captured through email, limited pictures, and monthly phone calls. 

He'll be able to "see" us on Face time - but only in port calls.  

He'll miss hours of knock knock jokes. 

Poop explosions. 

Vomiting.  

The celebratory first day of summer. 

The first day of school.  

Family trips. 

Adventures. 

Moments. We will both miss. 

Sometimes it easy for me to only think of how sad I am that he will be gone....and I forget to think about his side. What he will miss.

If you see me and I am laughing and then dissolve into tears, don't be alarmed.
That is just me.
Too lazy for pretense.

~Whitney
 Copyright 2012

Parenting - Survivor style

Outwit - outplay - outlast

I know that is the tag line for the Survivor reality show....

but I'm pretty sure it was stolen from a parent.

Today (and yesterday) I've gotten to outlast my 2 1/2 year old ball of delightful/psychotic/insane/cuteness. My little Bitty Bean is just soooo cute with those big brown eyes and super long eyelashes.....I'm sure she could make it pretty far on an island.

At least until she didn't get her way 100%.

Then her head starts swiveling 360 degrees and she emits snot and tears and glass-shattering-screams at a shocking rate.

She would either be voted off immediately; or she would win, purely because everyone else would be to frightened to take the chance of angering her.

Unfortunately, I don't have the freedom to run away and hide from her fits.

So yesterday, I lost HOURS - literally - of my life, battling out her fits. And today, at Wal-mart,  we were also treated to a short fit...it was only 30 minutes.

When I say "fit" I mean what every parent hopes and prays to never experience. 

What every person (parent or not) is horrified to observe or imagine. 

The type of fit that is demonstrated only by the children of people who have no manners and are terribly rude and (most likely) have either done time in juvey or are un-charged miscreants. 

I have never done time.
I used to have a serious lead foot so I do have a license suspension that has (finally!) dropped off my record.
I say please and thank you.
I try very hard to not talk about poop excessively. 

 But somewhere along the way, my angelic little Bitty Bean turned to the dark side.

During these feats of extreme volume, effort, and stamina, I calmly look at her little face and tell her, "I will win. I am more stubborn than you can imagine being."

Screaming, flailing, snotting, and sobbing in public?  Fine. She can outwit me.

Calling for Daddy - at the top of her lungs - because (DEAD serious) "Daddy! DADDY! DADDY LOVES ME MORE!!"  Fine. She can outplay me.

Choosing nasty behavior with an obscene lack of self-control - involving yelling, kicking, wailing, and head swiveling for 1 hour?  Not on your life. I will not cave.

I will outlast you, child. 

Because you came by your stubborn nature quite honestly.

~Whitney

Copyright 2011

Anchor's Aweigh....

I have been obscenely fortunate to have My Love home for almost all of 2011.

(He was just gone for the month of September)

But that doesn't mean that Navy separations aren't still impacting us. This week, thousands of families and friends said goodbye. For months. And my heart is heavy for each family.

For each of them, these past few weeks have been filled with special moments trying to cram every last second together with memories.

Reality has hit that the next time Daddy sees his baby, she'll be walking.

Big moments - weddings, funerals, birthdays, anniversaries, graduations - will be missed.

Little moments - the first "I love you," acceptance to college, first steps, spontaneous hugs, goodnight stories, early morning snuggles - will be missed.

There are now empty seats in every house.

There will be sleepless nights.

There is the overwhelming weight of how long the next months really are.

I have found the emotional difficulty of a separation to be exponentially harder than the physical. 

You just know you have to do everything. 

And then you do.

One of the hardest parts of a separation - for me - is in the middle. Everyone remembers to think of you in the first week...maybe even 2!....and the last month is laden with excitement; but that middle section, is what is soooo hard.

You are exhausted. 

You are drained. 

You are lonely. 

You are an emotional wreck. 

(Well, maybe that one is just me!) 

If you are part of the thousands saying goodbye - ask for help. Take people up on their offers. No one expects you to do it all - and others would like the chance to give you a break. Don't let pride stand in the way of building a relationship.

If you know someone who just said goodbye - don't wait for them to ask for help. Invite them to dinner. Bring them food. Offer to watch the children. Call them in the evening. Or during the day. Pray for them. Pray for endurance - for patience - for strength.

I'm so very sad for each of you learning your new normal -

 I know this is part of what we signed up for, but that doesn't make it easier.

And I'm happy that the separation has finally started - 

because now your countdown to homecoming has begun.

As all things go crazy and you are exhausted from not sleeping and you cry at random songs and your kids push every button you've ever had and you can't even think of a way to express to them what is coming..... know that I'm here with tissues, chocolate, and wet wipes.
You will get through this. 

Anchor's Aweigh.

~Whitney

(Here are my thoughts on My Love's last deployment)

Copyright 2011

Commissary Fun

The strong-willed child....also known as - every-child-I-have-birthed.

Well, Boy Bean hasn't show-cased his strong will yet; but since I know his parents quite well, I am certain he will not be compliant.

Anyway.

Today we had the treat of the "light commissary day" - we alternate between "big" and "light" days at the commissary. On "big commissary day" we have to drive *GASP* and creatively load the cart to full capacity. Soon - Very VERY soon - we will be a 2 cart family. Crazy.

Anyway.

"Light Commissary Day" means we walk to the store.  I push Boy Bean in the double stroller and load up the other side until I need more room.  Then, out comes the Snugli baby carrier!  Boy hops in, the three girls follow the train, and I push the double with all our groceries. I LOVE living so close to the store!!

So, that is what we were up to today.  Normally it is a fun trip and the children are all fabulous.

Really, they are normally great!  

They love to go to the commissary and get their cookie and help me treasure hunt for the items on our list.  If they are good - they get to pick which shape of pretzel we bring home.  

I indulge them, I know. ;)

Unfortunately, today wasn't a completely normal day.

As in - it was great! Fabulous! Wonderful! 

No awkward-random-stranger encounters, only nice faces for me and my tribe, happy attitudes from all Beans, no whining, quick obedience, and listening ears were tuned to Mommy.

It was beautiful.

And then the wind changed. In a moment.  
The moment I picked up the LAST item on our list. 

And suddenly I'm stuck in the clearance corner with a loaded double stroller, a happy boy kicking his toes at my thighs, a singing-skipping-Jumping -Bean, an obedient-String-Bean-retying-her-shoe, and a Bitty Bean emitting shrill-ear-piercing-cries-as-she-kicks-and-screams-on-the-floor.

Oh how I wanted to crawl into a corner and have someone else claim the screaming-spawn as their own.

Why, oh why, was my sweet little 2 year old deciding to scream so hard I saw blood vessels pop on her face? Because she wanted me to hold her.
And I couldn't.

I tried to get her to calm down....although the older woman who suddenly joined me in the clearance corner did not think so. I heard enough "my, my" and tongue-clicking and teeth-sucking to be plenty aware that she thought I was handling it wrong. 

By the way - teeth sucking? Most annoying sound ever. Drives me crazy. And I am the mother of four young children - I am FLUENT in annoying sounds.

Oh well.

These moments are really moments I hate. The moments where you have to stick to your guns and be consistent no matter how embarrassed you are, or you will PAY later.

So, I picked up the screaming-writhing-ball-of-anger and carried her sideways under my arm....the length of the commissary.... so we could have our standoff in the bathroom.  Bitty Bean was trying to kick me (hence the side carry - much weaker kicks!), Boy Bean was giggling from the bouncy speed walk, I was pushing the loaded double-stroller with one hand, Jumping Bean was skipping behind me, and String Bean was covering her head in shame taking up the rear.

Unfortunately, the handicap stall was occupied.  Which meant the two eldest Beans followed protocol - they stood outside the small stall and sang quietly - so I know exactly where they are! - while Bitty Bean, Boy Bean, and I, had a pow-wow.

5 minutes later - all was solved.

So I thought.

We collected the stroller....unloaded all items....paid....re-loaded the stroller....and Bitty Bean decided to try round 2 of The-melt-down-of-the-century.

Moments like that I always have to say to myself - out loud - "I am more stubborn than you can dream of being." Somehow it helps me win the standoff.

We parked our paid-for groceries outside the bathroom and - HALLELUJAH! - the handicap stall was open!!!!

In we all piled.

For 45 minutes. FORTY-FIVE MINUTES. 45 minutes!!!!!


Bitty Bean would not stop crying, screaming, and pitching a fit. All she wanted was for me to carry her. I know that is not a horrible request. But it was an UNREASONABLE request. There was no way that I could carry her home and push the groceries.

So for 45 minutes we parked in the bathroom at the commissary. With timed intervals of discipline occurring. 

I am sure I sounded crazy - because at one point Bitty Bean was screaming in Boy Bean's ear while laying her head on my shoulder and Boy Bean's cries entered the ruckus and Jumping Bean smacked her hand on the toilet and joined the cacophony of sobs and String Bean was singing an operatic rendition of "You are my Sunshine" and I started laughing maniacally.

I mean, really, what else could I do???

Bitty Bean finally caved. She found her happy attitude and decided obedience was a good decision.

We all streamed out of the stall and realized both of the other stalls were full and there was a line out the door  waiting for the toilet.

Oh well. Public embarrassment is just a part of parenthood. Right? Right?!  

Don't worry Bitty Bean.  I'll have my turn when you are about 15. I'm plotting my revenge already.....

Copyright 2011

Trigger points

I admit it freely - I have lived a very easy life.

My biggest heartache is whenever My Love deploys. I can't imagine the pain that would come from losing a spouse...because the ache of loneliness that comes from sleeping in an empty bed, or not having loving arms nearby, or the exhaustion of having all parenting decisions rest on my shoulders....can be overwhelming, and he is supposed to return.

Whenever My Love is deployed, I am amazed at all the random things that can trigger the wash of emotion that is close-to-impossible to hold at bay.

Sitting in church and seeing all the couples. 

Watching other kids run up to their Daddy. 

An understanding touch shared between a couple.

A sentimental card

A song on the radio

Having something really, really funny to say....but no one to hear it. 

I would imagine there are things like that throughout life whenever a loved one passes away. And deployment can - at times - feel like a death. You have to discover a new normal without them. You can talk to them - sometimes. But there can be days, or weeks, with no communication at all. (Basic training, or OCS anyone??) I would not claim to fully understand the complexities of life after someone indelibly marked on your heart dies....but I can't imagine it being an easy process.

The blessing of deployment....the curse of deployment....is encountering those triggers every day. 

Because each one reminds me of the depth of my love for the man who holds my heart. 

Copyright 2010

Cinderella.....

As I sit here sipping my coffee.... staring out the window at our snow covered yard...watching my beans play with My Love....I'm having a breakdown.

Seriously. 

It could be because I'm in the final month of a pregnancy....so emotions are high.

It could be attributed to My Love being home and the fact that the scene I'm observing can even occur.

It could be purely me....I just cry super easily since becoming a mama.

But nope. It isn't any of those things.

I'm sitting here...sobbing my eyes out....because of a country song that played while I was doing the dishes.  Cinderella.  I don't know who sings it....don't know who wrote it....but who ever it was definitely has watched years fly by in seconds.

Those movie montage scenes where they show the "highlights" of a life and then the children are grown....are pretty doggone accurate. 

We all sat around and watched home movies yesterday.....String Bean was a little baby - I didn't have bags under my eyes - My Love had some hair.....and then I looked over at my big girl and I couldn't fathom where the time has gone. Just yesterday she relied on me for everything.....and now she has things she is responsible for.....she helps her sisters....she helps me!

I know I will feel like I blinked and she'll be getting her driver's license and heading off into the great big world. 

By herself.

And I'm not ready.  I realize I have 13 more years to prep for that day where I send out a piece of myself to encounter life fully without the illusion of my protection. But that just doesn't seem long enough when I register how quickly 5 years have flown.

In my mental-montage of each Bean's "highlight" moments....barely a second ticks by. I hope they each know how very much I love them....even though I will - and DO! - mess up at this being-their-mommy-thing all the time.

Because when I look at them I see moments that cannot be recaptured. But I'm trying my hardest to not have time steal Cinderella away.....

I want to treasure every second I have with them until the clock strikes midnight.

Copyright 2010

Cocoa Bean Moments....

Well, I know I just posted a Cocoa Bean Moment, like, yesterday...but another one happened today!! Go figure.

First - confession: (It's good for the soul, right?) I've been sleeping in. I have been ignoring my alarm clock for about 5 days now...and it is great!!! I fully intend to go back to my early rising ways soon...but at the moment this boy bean won't let me go to sleep until 11....so I sleep until 7. Ah. Happiness.

Second - the moment. This morning (since I was lazy) I woke up to 3 little faces by my bedside.

Beautiful faces. Best way EVER to wake up. Anyway...they were not so very happy when they stumbled into my room. All three were wearing very sad faces...and String Bean was even on the edge of tears. They all asked  if they could snuggle bug with me...and, of course, I said yes. Then began the discussion of why they were sad....

They all missed Daddy.

String Bean was hugging her Daddy pillow...Jumping Bean was clinging to her Daddy blankie...

The first thing String Bean said was "Can this be the day Daddy comes home?"

Jumping Bean said "I know he loves us far far away...but can he love us here too?"

And Bitty Bean kept saying "Daddy! Daddy!" and looking for him. 

Broke my heart.

So, as I always do when we face the sadness, we talked about what we miss about Daddy. 

Here is what they miss...

Everything.

BUT 

String Bean doesn't miss spankings.

AND 

Jumping Bean doesn't miss his stinky toots.

And I laughed. Oh, I laughed until my sides hurt. And my day started beautifully. Full of cuddles, tears, laughter, and moments that cannot be recreated. 

Copyright 2010

Bring it on...

Recently, I thought I would have another sad-sappy-story-day without much funny in it because of how it started:

String Bean walked in to my bathroom when she first woke up...saw me showered and in my towel....and burst into tears.

While I have felt that way looking at my ever-expanding-girth-in-a-towel-that-is-constantly-getting-too-small; I thought her reaction a tad extreme. On the side - by the end of my pregnancies....I use a beach towel in the bathroom. 'Cause I'm cool like that.

Anyway. Back to the tears...

So, she burst into tears and I assumed it wasn't because she saw me. So I got down on her level and asked her if she wanted to cuddle and sit in my lap. (Typically what she wants to do if she is sad.) She nodded and waited patiently as I was situated in the chair. When she was comfortably settled in my lap, she looked at me with tear-filled eyes and said, "I miss Daddy." Then she couldn't go on because she started to cry.

I seriously contemplated keeping her home from school. She was so forlorn and overwhelmed by missing her Daddy...but first I asked if she wanted to email Daddy to help him feel closer. (She dictates emails and I type EXACTLY what she says.)  So off we plodded to the computer area...and she proceeded to start her letter like this...

Hi there Daddy.
This is me Canaan. We know that you miss us and we miss you too.

I thought it would stay in that vein for a while. I was wrong. The very next sentence was this:

Mom's gonna put beans on our wreath, and if it looks pretty she's gonna put ribbon on the wreath for our WHOLE life for every single season of the year.

More on that another day. But apparently, every aspect of my decorating is noteworthy enough to tell Daddy. The fact that I am decorating...with beans...and ribbon...and want to use something for a while.  

I like to keep people on their toes. I'm crafty like that. . . in a daughter-of-Eve-sort-of-way. 

 She ended up going to school and I thought all was well.

It wasn't.

Without my knowledge, Jumping Bean and Bitty Bean had been preparing for battle. Against their mother. They had youth, stamina, and wills of steel ready in their arsenal. I did not. I was tired, hungry, and Boy Bean was using my rib cage for boxing practice.  It was a VERY LONG DAY.

After we picked String Bean back up from school...and played in the pouring down rain for two hours...we'd been cooped up inside for a week!...it was bath time.

I'll be honest.

By this time, my patience had left the building; my sanity was seeking to follow suit; my legs were taking turns being numb; I was very hungry; and "good mommy" was nowhere to be found. 

String Bean needed to stand up for something in the bathtub - and wouldn't. Despite being instructed by the woman-with-blood-shot-eyes-and-tight-voice, she would not move. Calmly (REALLY!!) I told her, "You will be disciplined after bath for not obeying."  She slowly raised her head...set her jaw...and then opened the door to a new phase:
"I'm gonna leave this house forever if that happens."

Yep. She went there. I, however, did not. I continued washing the children, leveled my eyes at her and said "What ON EARTH would you do on your own? You are FIVE! Where would you eat? Where would you sleep? How would you get anywhere? Where would you get money for food, clothes, bills?! No. You are not going anywhere."

She sat there in stunned in silence...looked around the tub, and said, "That didn't really go like I thought it would."

Mommy - 1
Beans - 0

And all is well in the world.

Copyright 2010

Time Marches ON.....

So Saturday was Jumping Bean's THIRD BIRTHDAY. Yep. That is just amazing to me!!  

Jumping Bean on her birthday

It seems like only yesterday I was making the staff at Pensacola Naval Hospital (and My Love) HIGHLY annoyed with 3 false alarms for labor. Apparently, I'm a slow learner.

Could it really be 3 whole years since I was hiding in the pool of our apartment complex in Pensacola, FL, praying for relief from the 3000 degree heat?

I have NEVER been so hot as I was that summer. I was in my third trimester when we moved to the panhandle of Florida...apparently they literally FRY the panhandle. I am pretty sure there is no place as miserably hot as that area is in August and September.  Of course it didn't help I had an electric blanket - on high - affixed to my abdomen. I saw no point in wearing anything other than my maternity swimsuit...there were days I would be IN the pool, up to my chin, with my hair wet, and my FACE would be sweating. 

But I digress.

When our beans turn 3 they hit a HUGE milestone...the no-more-paci-cause-you-are-a-big-kid-now milestone.  We talk it up for months beforehand. On their actual birthday, we collect ALL pacifiers, place them in an envelope or box, and mail them off...to LITTLE children that need them. We followed this practice on Saturday. No tears where shed. No wailing. No Gnashing of teeth. It was surprisingly easy and painless. 

Until.

Until Bed Time. Yep. The actual moment where that little blond head hit the pillow without a pink paci to suck on...was utter and complete awfulness. Jumping Bean knew there would be no more pacis...she is a big girl now! But the realization of what that meant...it was not a good minute. 

Or 2. 

Or 10.

So, I did the very-good-mommy-thing...I shut the door...walked into my own room...and set a timer to check on her in 10 minutes if she was still freaking out.  

Poor String Bean. (They share a room.) When my timer went off...and she was still sniffling and making forlorn noises in the general direction of our mailbox....

I don't know that for sure - the door was closed - but I can guess pretty accurately...which, actually, is what most of mothering is anyway!

I went to their room to try to help Jumping Bean realize the exciting day this was! She had crossed a thresh hold into "Big Girl Land" and there was no going back! But I was foiled in giving any eloquent speeches or comforting hugs...by String Bean. 

As I opened the door to their room...I saw String Bean snuggled in bed with Jumping Bean; hugging her and saying, "Its okay Beana. You will be alright." Then I noticed what Jumping Bean was hugging in her arms. String Bean had given Jumping Bean HER Daddy pillow. Then the words I had heard her say when I stood outside their room suddenly made sense...

"Daddy's proud of you! Just hug him and he'll help you sleep just fine."

In Jumping Bean's great distress, String Bean had given her greatest possession. And Jumping Bean was able to sleep...

Then I hugged and kissed my girls...said goodnight once more...went to my room....and fell to pieces.

Copyright 2010

Sunny Side Up...

It seems I have given off the mistaken impression that I have it all together.  I can assure you, I do not. There are two key reasons why I try to see the good and/or the funny in every situation...and I thought now would be as good a time as any to divulge them.

 Be prepared. I am about to get honest. Exceptionally-completely-ugly-honest.

The first reason is this: In James 1:2, 17, it states: "Consider it pure joy, my brothers, whenever you face trials of many kinds...[for] every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows.[NIV]" I believe there is a reason - or a purpose, behind every poop explosion, every middle-of-the-night-wake-up, every day where I'm brought to the end of myself. I may not understand the purpose specifically - but I know there is one. Many days that is all I need to keep the laundry, dishes, correcting, teaching, cleaning, and cooking, going. (Unfortunately, patience is NOT on that list!)

My second reason for seeking the "silver lining" is much more personal. 

I have had some very dark days. Days where I felt I couldn't even open my eyes to see the cloud...let alone the silver lining. Those days were the months following the birth of Jumping Bean. Many people try to dismiss post-partum depression.... They will say - Oh! It is just in your head. Get over it. What is your problem? Just get out of bed and DO something.  I am ashamed to say I was once one of those people. Someone who just thought people were being lazy or attention hunting. Someone who would NEVER feel what those people claimed to feel.

Then we moved - to our 4th state - in 4 years - in my 3rd trimester with Jumping Bean. And she was born...this perfect little pink mass of screaming skin. She yelled and screamed and cried and writhed for almost 4 months. For 16 hours a day. And I knew very few people. I was caring for String Bean...they are 25 months apart...My Love was working....and I was sinking.

I didn't want to get out of bed. I resented my beans. Especially my Jumping Bean. I cried...constantly. I was overwhelmed and disconnected and scared of what was happening to me. I remember turning a movie on for String Bean, putting a screaming Jumping Bean in her crib, going into the bathroom, turning on the fan, climbing in the shower - in my clothes - and sobbing...because that was the only place I could go where I couldn't hear her screaming.

It was like being at a pool party and drowning...everyone around you can see you...but you can't cry out for help because all your energy is focused on surviving.

My Love knew something was wrong...terribly wrong...but he didn't know how to help. Finally, he started leaving me with a "to-do list" for each day. The first few days, the only thing on the list was "take a shower."  Slowly, steadily, he was able to draw me back to the home...to the family...to life. But it wasn't easy. It wasn't quick. It wasn't fun.

We contemplated medication...counseling...therapy...daycare...vacations....which definitely can help! But we chose (together) to try a different route before we sought other help.  For 2 months I was not myself. Oh, I could turn "me" on and fake it for an hour or two around other people. I could come up with positive things to say to our families when they called to check on us. But the real me was aching. And I needed help to heal. Thankfully, between the power of prayer and a loving husband...God was able to draw me to where I am now.  

I'm sure some would say what I've described above were not "dark days." To be honest, compared with many people's lives, they weren't. But for me - for my life - I was on the edge. I was on the edge of a place I never want to go to again. 

There is funny and happy all around....even then it was there....sometimes it is just much harder to see. My life is not perfect...together...or pain-free...but it is wonderful. Because there is a sunny side.

Copyright 2010

Holding Back the Tide...

There are days that feel wonderful - calm, peaceful, successful - days where not only the "list" gets everything checked off...but even a few extras are accomplished.  Those days where I am a calm, sweet-spirited mommy.  Those days where my children are perfect and kind and helpful.

Today was not one of those days.

Today was a day spent feeling like an isthmus between two raging oceans threatening to overtake me. 

On the one side was the churning torrent of "messy house"  (you know, the one that can reach flood stage within minutes?) Where it feels like the messes just suck the peace and calm out of my life. Apparently it didn't matter, because my sink still has dishes from breakfast sitting in it...and it is currently 8 o'clock at night.

On the other side, I had a tide of emotions so strong it felt like battling a tsunami. 

(Which would be no big deal if I could look at the calendar and say "Oh! I know why everyone is suddenly feeling like sobbing and whining and yelling and being nasty! But since I am pregnant....and my beans are 5 and under...monthly cycles don't really play into the picture at the moment.) 

I'm sure to the callused outsider, a messy house, a no-checked to-do list, and 3 children sitting all around your lap sobbing; can't possibly look like the end of the world. But it sure feels like it.  I know I need to keep my perspective in check and remember the gift of each day and the lessons to be had from every experience...but sometimes, I really just don't want to learn whatever the lesson is.

I really like my days that are not full of correcting someone every 5 minutes. Or cleaning up spill. After spill. After spill. I like the times where my children actually have ears that can hear...me.  I selfishly love when they are happy with their lives and not registering My Love's absence.

But tonight was a night for emotion. Be it amazing amounts of waterworks over who-knows-what at the playground...yelling about EVERYTHING...or seeing if whining would work as a power play...they tried every play in the book.

I would love to say I kept my cool and remained calm throughout it all. That I just battened the hatches and dealt with the storm. However, (since this blog is supposed to be full of the painful truth....) I can't say that. I did something I hate. I yelled at my sweet beans.  I got frustrated and annoyed. I was over it.

Until.

Until I had finished giving all 3 beans their baths....applied their lotion....decked them out in their jams...and then String Bean looked up at me with water-filled eyes and choked out, "I miss Daddy."

At that moment I realized how horribly out of focus my day had been. There were 3 hurting people in my care - all day - and I had not even attempted find out what was going on their hearts.

String Bean then crawled into my lap and cried. 

She cried because she misses the different speeds Daddy can run...Because "Mommy, you are pregnant....and kinda slow." She misses his hugs and his kisses. She misses just having him around to do everything he always does. 

Then Jumping Bean came over and leaned on my shoulder and said, "Okay. I think Daddy can come home now."

After we all let our rivers of tears flow...an amazing thing happened. The tide turned. And the day that I could-not-wait-to-be-done-with suddenly was no longer horrible. The crashing waves of emotion and wrong perspective, gave way to a calm, peaceful time of togetherness and bonding.  

So, while this particular mommy is definitely exhausted and worn out from the day...I'd do it all over again. Because sometimes you need the waves to wash away the yucky and show the beauty that is always under the surface.

Copyright 2010

The Joy and Pain of Motherhood...part 2

So here's the deal. I think it is high time for a funny/lighthearted post. Here is my current attempt...

Recently, (at a friend's wedding) I was slapped in the face by one of those totally-awesome-I-must-rock-at-being-a-mom moments. (Yep, I said it. Because it is true.)

My String Bean and Jumping Bean were flower girls...I was a bridesmaid....and I was nervous as all get out that my children would behave horribly. You know, behave in a way that could win us a million dollars or something on America's Funniest Videos for their fits in the aisle...or the dress being drawn over one of their heads while standing at the front (they wore white underwear - not princess panties - specifically to ward off that behavior)....or picking their nose and wiping it on their sister's dress. But - and it is hard to say this - as much as a million dollars would be nice...I think our family honor, reputation, and friendship with the bride and groom is a bit high of a price to pay.

None of that really has anything to do with the point. It is basically just to show you that I, in fact, would need 2 million to make it worth it. 

Anyway, as my beans and I were sitting on the front row during the ceremony - String Bean to my right, Jumping Bean on my lap - I was crying.

Before you judge me - remember I had just said goodbye to My Love, hadn't slept in 3 days, was watching two dear friends declare their love for one another....and I am pregnant. (None of that really is a recipe for stoicism.) 

In my Bean's defense - Mommy randomly crying is really not news. They are quite used to it. It doesn't scare them or unnerve them; they just pat my arm, or hand, and give me a tissue.

I am really rambling.

Thankfully, they not only walked down the aisle perfectly...they stood at the front like angels! No picking of noses, no fidgeting, no freaking out. It was amazing. I knew at that moment I had arrived. I had this mom-thing down.

(Side bar - during the majority of the ceremony, the bridal party sat down in the 2nd row.)

All of a sudden during the vows - Jumping Bean turned around in my lap, cupped my face with her hands, and said "Mommy, I love you."  Then she kissed me. Highly abnormal behavior for her...utter treat for me.

Didn't really help with me getting control of myself.

Just moments after that exchange, String Bean looked up at my face with glistening eyes and whispered, "Mommy, I'm not sad...my heart is just so happy it squeezed tears out! Can I have a tissue?"  Of course, I had plenty to spare.

So, while there are moments that the pain of motherhood - the sleepless nights, the worry, the expense, the physical, emotional, mental, and spiritual battering - feels overwhelming and all consuming; they are (thankfully) not all you get.

There are moments of extreme joy and comfort and happiness....

Where your heart is just so happy it squeezes tears out. 

And that is the beautiful dichotomous gift that is motherhood.

Copyright 2010