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

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

Cooking for Dummies....

I like to consider myself a fairly decent cook.  I can easily prepare more than chicken quesadillas, easy mac n cheese, pancakes, french toast, and ramen noodles.

Which was my ENTIRE cooking repertoire when I was a new bride. 

Thankfully, My Love wasn't after my skills in the kitchen. 

I have slowly but surely added various kitchen-y skills to my resume - things like how to read a recipe,  learning how to prep ahead, cooking juicy chicken. :) I like to think my cooking has slightly improved over these past 8.5 years of being a wife. At least in the breakfast/lunch/appetizer/entree departments.

My baking skills?

They are still pretty much at zero.

Don't get me wrong - I am a baking master with the help of Betty and the Dough Boy.  But that baking from scratch business? That is the stuff that makes me break out in a nervous sweat.

Sometimes, I forget that little tidbit of non-baking-ability, and volunteer myself to bake something.

Like tonight.

I volunteered to make a gluten-free dessert for our ladies book club which can't be that hard, right?

Did I mention that one of the other ladies making desserts could fill in on that "Cake Mob Boss" show? No pressure on Whitney. Yeah, right.

So, yesterday I pulled up "gluten free desserts" on google, and sat down to figure out what delicious something I could create. Realsimple.com - you pulled me in with your beautiful picture

I mean, how good does THAT look????  Yes, delicious and amazing.

Then I found an even better one on Martha's website:

I made my list of ingredients, and off I went to the store. So far, so good.

Then I read the directions:

Step 1 - Preheat the oven to 275 degrees with the rack in the center. Butter the bottom and sides of a 9-inch springform pan. Set aside.

WHAT IN THE WORLD IS A SPRINGFORM PAN???!?!?!?!
I'm gonna be honest here, at first I wondered if it meant you could only use it in Spring.  That admission alone is pretty hard for me to make - but it's true. Don't laugh at me. I didn't know?! 


Back to google I went. 

I would not be able to do anything, ever, if  I did not have google.

Apparently, the "springform" part is NOT referencing a season. It is describing the fact that the sides and bottom can separate from one another, and the side has a spring that pops it off your concoction without needing to flip the pan. And yes, I did do the wikipedia/google images search. 
Even more apparent, I didn't have one. One of my wonderful neighbors did, and he was kind enough to show me how it works and everything!


Crisis averted.


Back to the directions:
Step 2? It actually made sense. Hallelujah! 
Step 3? Notsomuch.

In a large bowl, beat egg whites until soft peaks form. Gradually add granulated sugar, and continue beating until glossy stiff peaks form. Whisk 1/4 of the egg whites into the chocolate mixture; then gently fold in remaining egg whites.

Soft peaks? Glossy Stiff Peaks?? Folding?! 
Thankfully, my 15 year old babysitter (Bridget) was here and she actually bakes. So as I was beating the egg whites I kept asking,

 "Is this right? 

Are these soft? 

Whattheheck does a peak look like?

Is this too much? 

Is this glossy?

It looks slightly matte to me, did I ruin it??"  

I guess today she's babysitting the 30 year old mother-of-4-boss-of-the-house. 

My cake is currently in the oven - making the house smell amazing. Will it taste good? Will it look good? I honestly have no idea. 


If it doesn't? I'm totally blaming it on Bridget.


~Whitney 
 Copyright 2012

My sort of crazy....

So, I'm officially crazy.

Actually, I'm having an identity crisis; and this is why:

Nothing has changed. 
In an ENTIRE year. 
And there are no huge changes on the horizon for this year. 

This is THE FIRST TIME - in our 8 year marriage -

 that we have not just recovered from/been prepping for a move; 

OR found out I was pregnant; 

OR just had a baby. 

And over the weekend I kinda freaked out about NOT being a nomad.

So, to satisfy this completely strange love of change and crazy, I NEEDED to reorganize.

And my husband - my word, I LOVE that man! - was happy to oblige.

Now the girl room....which had been quite a mess and totally un-pretty and very "just worked," in fact, it was so not-pretty - I don't have a single picture of it....looks lovely.

String Bean is on the floor, Jumping Bean is on top.

Bitty Bean is in the toddler bed

The girls are super excited about their "New Room".

Each bucket will be properly labeled by the end of the week

They feel like they've moved. And that makes them HAPPY.

Now they even have their own reading nook!

They are so my children.

And we organized the closet in the playroom/guest room.

I'm short a bucket for the blocks...it will be there soon!

That room still needs some serious re-working, but I'm hitting a wall. If I post pictures, will you PLEASE give me suggestions on how to make it better???


And the final, best, most wonderful re-organizing spot?

Our closet.

The dresser we took from the girls....now all the clothes that had been "neatly" stacked on the floor - are in there!

Our room is always the last place to "do" on the list. So the fact that our room is finally looking like grown-ups live there is super exciting. The fact that our closet is FINALLY neat - for the first time ever! - is totally worth a happy dance.

The girl feet from May 2010 - 2 weeks before we found out we had a bean in the pod!

I actually have thoughts about the Navy *gasp* but that will be for tomorrow......

Thanks for indulging my crazy!

~Whitney




Copyright 2011

Commissary Day....

So, it has been a bit since I posted about a Commissary trip. The last post-worthy trip really was something that nightmares are made of.

Today was not like that day.

Hallelujah!

The children were excellent! Really. 

I looked like a parenting rock-star.

I, however, wanted to behave like a little brat complete with a kicking and screaming tantrum.

What, you ask, could motivate me to feel that way???

Car carts.

Or lack thereof.

Let me explain: car carts (carts where you can contain 2 small children while still having space for your groceries)  are absolutely AH-MAZE-ING.  They make the commissary a total blast for my children. Bitty Bean gets to be in charge of Boy Bean and share her free cookie with him; they both get to drive, honk the horn, and see all the action of where we are going. Jumping Bean and String Bean get to alternate turns placing items in the cart with twirling in the aisle.

And all is well in the world.

EXCEPT.

Except when there are NO car carts available.

Which is bound to happen sometimes because there are only 7 for the entire store. 

Now, I really am fairly understanding about there not being car carts - sometimes it is the minivan brigade in the parking lot (which now includes MY Swagger Wagon!!! Woohoo!) so I am prepared there might not be a cart available.

But here's my beef.....be warned: I am about to RANT.

(I apologize in advance for offending you)

When I walk through the commissary with my 11 month old son in the regular cart, my 2 1/2 year old, 4 year old, and 6 year old daughters walking behind and around me - and see someone using a car cart for their ONE child; I get annoyed. 

I'm not really annoyed if the child is fairly young.


BUT if your child is so old they can barely fit in the car cart - I'm going to be ticked.

And I get extremely close to irationally-eye-twitching-mad when I see your ONE child....who looks close to 8 years old....PUSHING the EMPTY car cart.

It is purely because I am trying to set an example of how to behave in polite society that I don't go all crazy-mama on them and chuck a box of diapers at the adult's head.

I don't understand this thought process. It is totally fine if you have one child - I don't think everyone needs a tribe. BUT I do think you should be considerate of other people. And taking something you don't need, just to placate a child, helps no one.

The child learns selfishness and greed because they want something - so they should get it.

The parent is not wanting to tell their child no - which is absolutely terrible for all parties involved.

And there is someone coming soon behind them who actually NEEDS that cart - and can't use it and now has a much more challenging trip ahead of them.

Seriously people.

So, today, as I encountered 5 of 7 car carts loaded with one child (all at least 4 years old), and the other 2 of them being pushed by a child older than String Bean.....

I was able to address the importance of being considerate. 

Of thinking of others. 

Of not taking something you don't need, just because it is there - or free. 

Of realizing that sometimes your fun time can ruin the chance someone else has of having a need met.

That is what is wrong with this country, isn't it? 

Everybody wants what they want because they want it - without regard for others, without caring about the ramifications of selfish decisions - because the all important "I" is number one.

To that I say: Maybe you should think twice the next time you want to OCCUPY a car cart.

Some sleep-deprived mama of four might just go all crazy on you.

~Whitney

Copyright 2011