You Can Take the Sailor Out of the Parade

You can take the sailor out of the parade, but you can’t take his family out of the crowd.

This time last year James was marching in the annual Ballston Spa Memorial Day parade and the kids and I were camped out on the street, waving our American flags. This year James is sailing the oceans somewhere on the other side of the world in defense of our freedom and still we were camped out on that same street, waving our American flags.

Of course, we had to bring one of Daddy's old dixie cups along, to show our Navy pride.

When a small detachment of sailors marched passed, all decked out in their dress white uniforms, Jamie got really excited and started shouting, “Dada! Dada! Dada!” I have to admit that it brought a tear to my eye.

I could think of no better way to celebrate this holiday weekend than to dress up in our red, white, and blues. If there's one thing this family knows how to do, it's be American through and through!

See, Johnny's already learning how to exercise his first ammendment rights to free speech.

Friends Like These

Growing up, my sister Jessica had a friend named Julie. (I know what you’re probably thinking right now… “Enough with all the Js already!”) Jessie and Julie were inseparable. Wherever one was, the other would be also and if they couldn’t be together then they’d be talking to each other on the phone or writing each other letters to pass in class the next day. Julie spent so much time at our house and participated in our family activities so often that, still to this day, I think of her as my fourth sister. Jessie and Julie had the kind of friendship that other people envied. They shared a million inside jokes and could finish each other’s sentences. Sure, they’d get steaming mad and refuse to speak to each other for days or weeks at a time, but their relationship was so strong that they’d always end up coming back together in the end. Their friendship started when they were only 6 years old and is still going strong 20 years later. Life has thrown everything it’s got at them but still it seems that nothing can tear them apart. Even as adults, though college and marriage led them down different paths- my sister lives in California and Julie lives in Arizona- they make a point to call each other regularly and visit when they can. The two of them could be poster children for the acronym “BFF.”

I never had that as a kid. I was that awkward child on the playground who was too much of a tomboy to be invited to play tea party with all the girls but too much of a girl to be invited to play soccer with all the boys. I spent most of my recesses either sitting at the benches drawing pictures or walking in circles around the yard concocting elaborate stories about what I was going to be when I grew up. Thank God that I had so many siblings to go home to after the school bell rang because otherwise I would have had a depressingly lonely childhood. I was never able to find a friend like Jessie’s Julie. You just don’t find friends like that every day.

That’s how I know that friends like the ones I have now are a once-in-a-lifetime find.

The saying goes that “you don’t know what you’ve got, until it’s gone.” Well, that’s not completely true. If you ask me, I think it should read, “you really appreciate what you’ve got when you know you’re about to lose it.” The time I have left to spend with my friends here in New York is limited and that makes every moment exponentially more special.

On Thursday I met my friends Christine and Colleen and we all caravanned north to Moreau Lake State Park. It’s only about a 30 minute drive but when you’re traveling with seven young children and all their subsequent baggage in tow a half-hour drive from home seems like quite the elaborate excursion. Entrance was free (!), the weather was perfect (!), and almost everyone was in a pleasant mood (!).

I say almost because Josie did spend the first part of playground play sulking and pouting for no good reason. But the group really livened once we set off on an adventure hike.

 

We admired bugs, skipped rocks, found sticks…oh, and collected a nice array of mosquito bites too. Gotta love nature!

Next we claimed a couple of picnic benches and ate lunch together while catching up on all the latest stories from each other’s lives.

Plus there were a few potty breaks inserted in the middle and a smile-filled time with bubble wands tacked onto the end.

That same afternoon I drove myself and my kids to our other friend Kristen’s house (she had to work in the morning so she wasn’t able to join us at the park). She agreed to entertain the kids for me while I started painting a dinosaur mural in her son’s bedroom. I definitely think I got the better deal.

It may sound like a pretty accurate summary of my day, but in actuality there was a lot more to it than that. My friends gave me a few treasured hugs and their happy, glowing faces made me smile. Their presence puts me at ease. They gave me some practical advice on using my baby sling correctly and some psychological advice on living life rightly. We entrusted each other with our deepest frustrations and most exciting joys. They complimented me on my chocolate chip cookies. We basked in the glory of God’s creation and shared in His gift of fellowship. We laughed together. We didn’t cry, but if he had then we would have known that it was okay. I kept an eye on their kids for a couple minutes and they kept an eye on mine and we would all lightheartedly but with an ounce of sincerity agree that that’s the best gift a friend can give. We reminisced about the past and made plans for the future. You see, the things I listed above (playgrounds, nature walks, picnic lunches) are great, but these things here are the marks of true friendship.

Friends like these are a once-in-a-lifetime find. They are the type of BFFs that people covet.  I spent my whole life searching for friends like Christine, Colleen, and Kristen, and now that I’ve found them I don’t intend on letting them go. So ladies, if you’re reading this, you should consider yourself for-warned. I’m not about to let 540 miles- the distance between Ballston Spa, New York and Chesapeake, Virginia- keep us apart. Email, text, Skype, Facebook, road trip….I’ll do whatever it takes to make sure we stay friends….even if it means bugging you in the middle of your nightly bedtime routine because that’s the only time I can be sure you’ll be home. You better believe it (and knowing how well you know me, I’m sure you do). No matter how many new and wonderful things come my way, I could never dream of replacing friends like you.

Good weather = good moods = good pictures

I am starting to notice a striking correlation between good weather, good moods, and good pictures. The three of them go hand-in-hand-in-hand. When the weather is nice I can take the kids outside to play in the sunshine and playing outside in the sunshine makes the kids smile and bright sunshine and big smiles are what make the greatest pictures.

Today was perfect- sunny with blue skies and puffy white clouds- and we spent almost the whole day outside basking in all that God-given perfection. The more time we spent in the sun, the more photogenic moments kept popping up, and the more photos I snapped. A day this perfect just has to be shared.

 Jamie and I found a frog in the front yard this morning. Jamie's excitement is written all over his face.

Of course we shared our discovery with Josie after she got home from preschool.

After lunch the kids suited up and splashed around in the kiddie pool.

Look who's free-standing!

Yep, there’s no doubt about it. Good weather= good moods= good pictures!

Little Victories

I am well aware that there are people in this world whose lives are a lot harder than mine. There is so much tragedy and heartbreak out there- wars, earthquakes, tsunamis, tornados, floods, and more- and my prayers are daily lifted up for those people in desperate need of God’s awesome love. In the grand scheme of things, my problems are nothing.

But it’s also clear that though my life could be harder, it could also be easier.  My life is no walk in the park. Our little family of Js is going through an intense transitional period, full of frustrations and disappointments. At the end of each challenging day, James and I often exchange our feelings of defeat.

At such times, it is important…no, it is vital….to recognize life’s little victories. We’ve had some really great ones in the past few days.

·         Sylvie, the goldfish, is still alive! That’s right. By some fishy miracle, she pulled herself back from the brink of death and has fully recovered from her wounds.

·         Beast is officially fully house trained! It’s been weeks since his last accident.

·         Johnny has started sleeping through the night! A well rested baby is a happy baby, and a happy baby means a happy mommy. Actually, maybe I should reverse that- a well rested mommy means a happy baby.

·         Jamie has learned to ask for a drink using big boy words, “want drink.” Actually, it sounds more like “wwwwa. dee.” But the exciting thing is to see how hard he’s trying.  

·         Josie is picking out her own outfits in the mornings and getting dressed all by herself! She is developing an encouraging independence and a unique style all her own.

·         Jenny worked up the courage to invite Kelly and her family over for dinner next week and Kelly accepted! It’s a thrill to break down that professional/ personal boundary since Kelly has been such an inspiration force in our lives. Oh, and Jenny also finished a book from beginning to end for the first time in years!

·         James was given an official homecoming date! It’s still a couple of months away, but having a number to mark on the calendar makes it so much more tangible.

They may not sound like much, but each one is an important little victory that gives us hope. We may be losing some, but we're also winning some. In spite of all our difficulty, good things are happening. Heck, in a family in which fish can come back from the dead and mute little boys can talk, anything is possible!

Insights into the Life of a Navy Wife, Part III

Disclaimer: This post is about sex. It describes extremely personal and intimate details. It may include content that could be considered graphic and inappropriate for some readers. If the thought of me and James naked and engaged in sexual intercourse makes you queasy then you should NOT read further.

Everyone remembers their first time. Ask anyone and they will tell you that they are able (though, not necessarily willing) to describe when, where, and to whom they lost their virginity. Unfortunately, from what I have gathered, not everyone enjoyed having sex for the first time. Some people felt pressured into it and others describe theirs as being painful. I’ve had friends tell me stories that were downright traumatic. I guess I am lucky, or blessed, or both, because I have no negative feelings about the way I lost my virginity. The truth is that my first time was one of the most magical experiences of my life. Sometimes when I’m in a particularly romantic or desirous mood (I blame this on my husband’s prolonged absence, the recent return of my monthly ovulation cycle, and my jealousy of a close friend’s romantic weekend getaway with her husband), I like to daydream back to that wonderful night.

James and I had waited for each other for a long time. Our anticipation was high and our heart rates were equally as fast. He touched me and I touched him with an intense satisfaction, knowing that we were about to experience each other on a level that no one else ever had before. The thought of finally expressing our love for one another in the most intimate way possible was invigorating. Sex was an exciting adventure that we were about to embark on together.  It was uncharted territory and we had no concept of what we liked or didn’t like, so everything felt right.  We had nowhere else we’d rather be; there was nothing else on our minds except being together in that moment. Our first time wasn’t too fast or too slow. We took our time and enjoyed every touch. We were young and energetic. We were both in the best shape of our lives and therefore completely comfortable with our bodies. There was no self-consciousness to get in the way. There was no awkwardness and no pain. It was easy. Our bodies came together naturally and yes, I’ll say it, very enjoyably. Afterwards, we fell asleep in each other’s arms for the very first time. And a couple hours later we woke up and did it all over again.

Nearly ten years have gone by since that first night we made love to each other, and in that time span sex has changed in many ways. Any married couple will attest that, no matter how much you try to avoid it, the sex loses its splendor. The stress of everyday life begins to seep into the bedroom and under the sheets. One night he’s too tired and the other night she’s too distracted. The next night he’s feeling sick and the following night she’s feeling fat. Some days you rush through it and pat yourself on the back for “doing your marital duty.” Other days you’re just too lazy to tell your partner that you’re in the mood, for fear of being rejected and causing another fight, so you take a cold shower and slip into your most unflattering sweat pants. Single people: don’t let me scare you. There are times when the stars align and both partners are ready and willing, you come together and you both feel that unmistakable rush, you lay back on the bed for a couple moments to catch your breath….. then he grabs the remote because his favorite episode of Mythbusters is coming on and she pulls on her pants and heads downstairs because she forgot to start the dishwasher. We hate to admit it, even to ourselves, but sex is no longer that exhilarating, first time experience.

I’ve made a lot of generalizations here and am making a lot of assumptions about other people’s sex lives. I shouldn’t presume to know the bedroom habits of others. But one thing I can speak authoritatively about is the sex life of a Navy wife. It’s not a common topic of public conversation, but here I am to open the discussion…..because, well….. I miss having sex with my husband and I’m not embarrassed to admit it.

The sex life of a Navy wife comes with heavy burdens and lofty benefits. First, let’s tackle the obvious. We and our spouses are separated for months at a time which means, you got it!, no sex. But it also means no hugging, no kissing, no cuddling or snuggling, no caressing, no fondling, no back rubbing or hand holding. No physical attention of any kind for six, seven, eight, or nine months! I don’t enjoy raising three kids without their father around, I don’t like managing our finances alone, and I hate having to deal with unexpected emergencies all by myself. But do you know what really sucks? Being a woman with a healthily raging sex drive who has laid claim to the man of her dreams, but who is unable to satisfy her desires with said man. I have always proclaimed that, while our husbands are deployed, we have to shoulder all the responsibilities of a wife but get none of the benefits. Now that takes strength!

Eagerly anticipating James' homecoming, on the dock in 2003

Homecoming day finally comes, though, and all that strength and sacrifice pays off. Navy wives have the unique opportunity to enjoy their “first time” again and again and again. Every deployment and underway leads to a homecoming, which brings with it the same excitement and anticipation of that first night together. They say that “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.” Well, you have no idea what they’re talking about until you’ve had homecoming sex! Butterflies are fluttering in my stomach just from thinking about the sheer exhilaration I felt when James stepped off the ship after his last deployment, pushed his way through the bustling crowd to find me, threw his sea bag to the ground, and swooped me up into his arms. Only a select few have earned the privilege to experience such an emotional reunion. We reserved ourselves a room at the acclaimed Hotel del Coronado in San Diego and we locked ourselves away from the world to get reacquainted. Again, we had nowhere else we’d rather be; there was nothing else on our minds except being together in that moment. It wasn’t too fast or too slow. We took our time and enjoyed every touch. It was easy. It was natural. It was very enjoyable. (And that is when and where our beautiful baby girl was conceived, making the experience that much more memorable.)

Reunited after nine long months, 2003

So you can pity me all you want for having to go it alone all these months. Cry for me. Being a Navy wife is a lot of hard work and at times it’s downright torture. But on homecoming day, when the sun is setting on all the “Welcome Home” banners, streamers, and confetti, and I’m following my husband into the bedroom and locking the door behind me, I will pity you. Because while you’re stuck in your rut of everyday sex, I’ll be enjoying the magic of my first time all over again.

I apologize for the length of this post. I guess I had a lot more to say about sex than I realized.

When It Rains, It Pours

They say that, “When it rains, it pours,” and ain’t that the truth?

I feel like I’ve had the weight of the world on my shoulders this week. In the last seven days I have had to deal with a malfunctioning pool filter, a sump pump in need of a battery back-up system, and a car that had run bone dry on oil and required a new air filter and break light as well. Plus I had a meeting with our property manager and was surprised by some unwelcome expenses, I opened discussions with our realty group in Virginia to settle move-in details, I called utility companies to cancel old accounts and other companies to activate new accounts, I arranged the pick-up of our personal property with our moving company, I heard some hurtful news from a friend, I labored over our strained family budget looking for enough room for all our upcoming expenses, I made some important financial changes through our credit union account, and that’s all in addition to meeting the daily needs of three children, two dogs, two fish, and a house. And then to top it all off, I am currently fighting off an extremely painful case of strep throat, possible tonsil infection, and blocked left ear drum.

One or two of these things together would be an annoying drizzle. A handful of them combined could be considered a persistent rain. When all of them come falling from the sky at once, it is nothing shy of a torrential downpour. Oh, what I would give for some simple scattered showers! But when the clouds over my head rain, they pour.

The weather around here must be taking cues from my life. A storm front has been stalled over us for the past several days and we’ve had continuous rain, of various intensities, for days and days. On Sunday afternoon, even though the kids were still dressed in their fancy church clothes, we went outside to play in the rain for a while. And surprisingly enough, it was exactly what I needed.

The smiles on my happy children’s faces have an amazing capacity for invoking contentment. I stood under the front porch awning with Johnny on my left hip and my camera in my right hand, snapping some photos of Josie and Jamie as they enjoyed the simple pleasures of mother nature’s playground, and in that short span of time I regained my sanity. My endless list of troubles seemed irrelevant because at the end of the day, no matter where I live or how tight my budget is, I will still have these three precious playmates to pass my time with.

So what’s the best thing to do when it’s pouring rain? Pull on the boots, push open the umbrellas, stomp in the puddles, and wait for the sun to start shining again.

What a Difference a 'Do' Makes

When an artist becomes so enveloped in his canvas that he can no longer clearly discern the red paint from the green paint, they say that he is “too close to the project.” All his brush strokes fade together and he has trouble judging his own art work. The painting might be un-centered or the perspective may be off, but he can’t tell because he’s been starring at it for too long.

When it comes to me and my kids’ outward appearance, it would be safe to say that I’m too close to the project. I look at their faces and I don’t see a resemblance to James or a similarity to me. I look at Josie and I see warm-heartedness with an eagerness to please. I look at Jamie and I see rambunctiousness with a longing for affection. I look at Johnny and I see hardiness with a love for activity and interaction. I have such an intimate relationship with my “paintings” that I can no longer see the brush strokes on the surface.





Still, I know that to others my kids look a lot like their father. People point it out to me often. There’s no denying that they all got James’ nose. That’s definitely a dominant gene. The boys got their V-shaped hair line from their daddy’s side of the family. Poor Josie will always blame James for her big feet. They all even inherited a characteristic squint when they smile. The fact that they look so much like their dad doesn’t bother me in the least. After all, I never would have married the guy if I didn’t think he was attractive enough to make babies with!



Yet, I have to say, when a woman toils through ten long months of pregnancy and withstands the agonizing pain of labor and delivery, she’d sure as heck like the resulting child to show some outward sign of her contribution. But from the moment our little Josie first showed her beautiful face, all anyone could say about her was how much she looked like her father. It’s true. She does. So much so, in fact, that James used to joke that he doubted whether or not I was Josie’s biological mother…. regardless of the fact that he personally witnessed her emergence from my cervix.



Josie





James



Well, little did we know that hiding behind all that Daddy was a little bit of Mommy. It just took a new hairdo to bring it out.

Late last week the kids and I made a stop at the salon because Jamie was long overdue for a trim. It being late and he being tired, a spirited protest began and I had to offer him a trip to the candy store in exchange for cooperation during his haircut. At this, Josie’s ears perked up and she said enthusiastically, “I want a hair cut!” At any other time I might not have considered the idea but lately I’d been thinking that her signature pigtails and bangs were getting a bit juvenile for a soon-to-be kindergartener, so I explained that she could get a haircut if she really wanted. A conversation ensued about the benefits and drawbacks of short and long hair and it was eventually decided that Josie would in fact get her hair cut short. She climbed proudly into the barber chair and smiled a huge smile the entire time. I’m still kicking myself for not bringing my camera along! When the stylist was finished she swung the swivel chair around so that Josie faced me…..

The hairs on my arms stood on end. She was me! I felt like I was looking at a childhood picture of myself.



Josie





Jenny



 I have never felt that way about any of my children before (but it makes me wonder if that’s how James feels every single time he looks at our kids). There at my feet was a miniature replica of me. Wow! What an awe-inspiring feeling! Somehow it makes all the work that I’ve invested in mothering for the last five years seem just a tad bit more satisfying.

It sure is amazing what a difference a ‘do’ can make.

"I don't want to go!"

Kids throw tantrums when they don’t get what they want. My kids are no exception to the rule, although they’re definitely not the worst tantrum throwers I know. Now that Josie is older and more able to control her emotions, her form of a tantrum is mild. On occasion she will hide her face in her hands and run to pout quietly under a table or in a corner of the room when she’s told it’s not her turn yet. Jamie, on the other hand, is prime tantrum age and his foot stomping, tear streaming fits are most commonly brought on by the denial of an apple juice refill or upon learning that it’s time for bed. Johnny has only just learned to pitch a fit. I saw his first one sometime last week when he found one of Jamie’s discarded Tootsie Pops and was quietly savoring several sweet, sugary sucks until I caught him and took the candy away. He immediately burst into tears and wailed in heartbroken anguish.

I have spent so much time stopping tantrums over the past few years that I feel I’ve earned the right to throw one now.

We are moving to Virginia. I don’t want to go! (Imagine me jumping up and down, waving my arms in the air, stomping my feet on the floor, and shrieking hysterically.) I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go! I don’t want to be lost and lonely. I don’t want to start over. I won’t know how to get to the places I need to go- like the most convenient ATM or the grocery store with the lowest milk prices. I won’t know where the best parks are and I won’t know how to avoid afternoon traffic. I’m also going to be poorer than ever, no thanks to the financial strain of paying rent on top of a mortgage. I will be alone, in a strange place, with no money. No fun at all.

I don’t want to go, but even more, I don’t want to leave. It hurts to know that life in New York will go on without us. Kristen, Colleen, and Chrissy and all their kids will continue to meet for playgroups, but my kids and I won’t be there enjoying the mayhem. Pastor Alan will continue to preach at First Baptist Church, but I won’t be in the pew scratching notes on the corner of my bulletin. Emmeline will continue to babysit, but my kids won’t be here asking her to build another living room fort out of kitchen chairs. Kelly will continue to visit her clients, but Jamie won’t be here benefitting from her gentle insistence on his pronunciation of “I want” and “my turn”. Nikki will continue to sell Gymboree clothes, but I won’t be in the store chatting with her about the upcoming sales.

The life that took me five long years to build will be gone in an instant. So many friendships, so many memories. Sure, they will probably miss us at first. But before long the empty spots on their calendars will fill up with new friends’ names and then eventually they will be referring to us as that little family of Js they once knew. “Oh, ya! Cute kids,” they’ll remember. “And that Jennifer….wasn’t that her name?.....Sure loved to speak her mind. Ha ha!” Relationships that I treasure immeasurably will be reduced to mere shadows.

I am so tired of people trying to encourage me to be optimistic and insisting that I be enthusiastic about moving to Virginia. Because as far as I can see, I have close to nothing to gain and nearly everything to lose. So to all those people I want to say: No! I don’t want to go! I want to mourn the loss of the people and places that I hold dear. I need some time to grieve. I think I’m entitled to some sorrow, even if it takes the form of childish tantrum.

Who says?

Who ever said that boys can't wear pink?

And who says that girls shouldn't play sports in dresses and flower sandals?

We're not just breaking the rules... we're LOOKING GOOD and HAVING FUN doing it!

Every Day is Mother's Day

I went to bed last night doing one of those self-pity things, feeling bad for myself because of how much my Mother’s Day was going to suck. Pathetic and immature, I know. Can you really blame me though? My mom lives thousands of miles away on the other side of the country and I can’t afford a place ticket to see her. The father of my children is off floating somewhere in the middle of the Arabian Sea and hugs are beginning to seem more like something from a dream than something attainable. My three little children aren’t even old enough to grasp the concept of gratitude, let alone convey it. So the wheels in my head spun round and round in anguish and disappointment, until finally I forced them to stop. Before I drifted off to sleep I made a conscious decision that I would make Mother’s Day special for myself.

So when I woke up this morning I hurried downstairs to pack us a picnic lunch before getting ready for church. My plan was to go straight from Sunday worship service to the picnic and playground area at Saratoga Spa State Park. I figured it would be a fun and relaxing activity to enjoy with Josie, Jamie, and Johnny. At the least, I figured, I would manage to snap some cute outdoor pictures of the kids, which would go well in a Mother’s Day blog post. So the rest of the day I made a mental note of all the endearing moments, with the purpose of writing them all down for everyone to enjoy.

First, I checked my inbox and received a Happy Mother’s Day message from James and the first line read, “You are the greatest and most wonderful mother in the whole world.”  Then during church service, Josie and I cuddled in the pew wearing coordinating purple outfits. When I went to pick up the boys from the church nursery afterwards they both greeted me with huge dimply smiles, Jamie shouting “Ma!” with outstretched arms and Johnny lunging towards me out of the hands of the volunteer who had been holding him.

After we arrived at the park we all sat down together at a picnic bench and huddled under umbrellas to eat our lunch in the drizzling rain. We giggled at our ridiculous selves.

Then we all played in the creek, throwing dandelions into the water and watching them get carried away by the gentle current. Johnny snuggled close to me in his sling, Jamie insisted that I help him climb on the monkey bars of the playground and Josie sung me some songs.

Then we all went home together and took afternoon naps. We skipped our dinner and met friends for dessert instead. Josie, Jamie, and Johnny all shared my ice cream cone with me.

Josie picked me some wild flowers and said, “Happy Mother’s Day, Mommy,” and finished it with a twirl. After we got home and I had given all the kids baths and put them in their pajamas I let the oldest two pick a movie to watch. While they were nestled quietly on the couch I started to bustle about, trying to tidy and clean. But Jamie came over to me and asked me in his most gentle voice to come to the couch and sit with him. So I watched a movie with my babies, Jamie sitting on my lap and Josie holding my hand, with her head resting on my shoulder. And at the very end of the evening I talked to my mom on the phone and we both cried together at how much we miss each other and hate being so far apart.

All-in-all it was beautiful day, full of simple pleasures and fulfilling joys.

When I finally stopped to review my day and compose this blog post, something struck me: My Mother’s Day was no different than any other day! The things I just described happen to me almost every single day. I often receive emails from James, reassuring me that I am a wonderful mother. Josie, Jamie, and Johnny are always showing me how much they love me in the little smiles they give or sweet things they say. My mom and I share deep, emotional conversations regularly. The only difference about today was that I paid more attention. It all goes to show the importance of starting a day with the intent of making it special. Every day is Mother’s Day, if you make it that way.