Thursday, July 30, 2009

Military Brat

I found this at "this is how i'm doing":

In case you didn’t know, I grew up in a military household; my dad was in the Army so that makes me an Army brat. I recently joined a group on Facebook titled “You know you are a military brat if you…” and spent a good 15 minutes reading through these — here are some of my favorites:

…all your former very best friends are as long gone as your last move.
…always wish you were back at the last place you were stationed even 20 years later.
…are able to imitate others’ speech patterns easily.
…are amazed at people who have never left their hometown.
…are asked “where did you learn to speak English so well”.
…are brought to tears by military music.
…are initially confused when asked where you are from, but quickly respond everywhere.
…at 22 you are trying to find someone in the military to marry so you can get a new I.D. card.
…can call up actual memories of a country while you’re in Geography class.
…can not speak the language of the country in which you were born.
…didn’t save things so you wouldn’t go over the weight allowance of the next move.
…don’t feel quite right seeing military personnel younger than you.
…every room you’ve ever had was stark white and you couldn’t put nail holes in the walls.
…feel like you should be visiting the states rather than living in them.
…find that you can easily amuse yourself for hours at airports, train or bus stations.
…get nostalgic when seeing O.D. Green.
…get the itch to move every 3-4 years and forever feel like the outsider in the civilian world.
…give someone a break because they are in the military.
…went into culture shock upon returning to the states.
…have been asked just where APO, AE was.
…have USAA as your insurance company.
…know exactly how horrible AFN commercials are.
…knew the rank and name of the kid next door’s father before meeting the kid next door.
…left school frequently for bomb scares.
…munched hot brötchen & gummies on the way to school.
…name schools in three countries on two continents when asked what high school you attended.
…played American Football at the schwim bad to impress the german girls.
…polished your fathers boots and brass for his upcoming inspection.
…remember being able to watch the Super Bowl or World Series live on TV at 2 am.
…start a major portion of your conversations with “when I was in…”
…stand up and recite the national anthem at the start of movies.
…talk to someone with an accent and pick it up yourself.
…tell everyone you are from a town that you haven’t lived in since you were 4 years old.
…try to take out your ID card when you enter a grocery store.
…went to school in a converted POW camp.
…know transfer meant pack your toys and say see ya later.

Monday, July 6, 2009

Digital Scrapbooking

Have you NOT yet heard of digital scrapbooking? Low overhead, no paper mess to organize in my tiny home, very creative. There are amazing freebies available online. What's not to love? I've been using digital scrapbooking supplies to help me stay motivated this past year. Me, my laptop, and unlimited creativity.

I like to create from scratch, too, but using kits and supplies from other creative folks helps get me jump started when I feel stuck in the mud. Here are a few sites to get you started, too (some freebies, some commercial):

Enjoy! Happy scrapping! ;)

Sunday, July 5, 2009

Long time, another deployment

Sorry, it's been a long time since I've been a'blogging. One more deployment under our belts, and I'm in much greater need of "Mommy Motivation" than ever before.

How do I stay motivated and on track? Some days it's more difficult than others. Today I'm relaxing, reading a good book, walking on the treadmill, cooking some good food for the family. Hubby has been home for not yet two weeks, and I've had a really bad cold the entire time. SLEEP is important now, too. ;)

Along those lines I'll leave you with a poem:

Author Unknown

The backbone of the home you see.
That's what the military wife is to me.
Guarding the fort while her husband's away,
Defending and protecting his country each day.

Though many forget the importance of her role in his life,
Please, Sir, don't forget the military wife.
The woman who primarily raises her children alone,
The one who strives to make a "house", a home.

The one who sacrifices the time she could share,
The one who has many responsibilities to bear.
The woman who is married to a protector of the world,
The one whose life stays fairly unfurled.

I say again, kind Sir, don't forget the role
she plays in his life.
Yes, dear Sir, the military wife.
The woman who stands by her husband's side,
The one who takes life stride by stride.

The woman who wonders when he's far away,
The one who prays for his safety
and sends tender love his way.
Next time you look into a soldier's eyes,
Think of the one who stands by his side.

The one left behind, the encouragement in his life.....
The woman who's called the MILITARY WIFE.

Monday, February 18, 2008

Prettiest Mom

Before I was a Mom,
I never tripped over toys or forgot words to a lullaby.
I didn't worry whether or not my plants were poisonous.
I never thought about immunization.

Before I was a Mom,
I had never been puked on. Pooped on. Chewed on. Peed on.
I had complete control of my mind and my thoughts.
I slept all night.

Before I was a Mom,
I never held down a screaming child so doctors could do tests, or give shots.
I never looked into teary eyes and cried.
I never got gloriously happy over a simple grin.
I never sat up late hours at night watching a baby sleep.

Before I was a Mom,
I never held a sleeping baby just because I didn't want to put him down.
I never felt my heart break into a million pieces when I couldn't stop the hurt.
I never knew that something so small could affect my life so much.
I never knew that I could love someone so much.
I never knew I would love being a Mom.

Before I was a Mom,
I didn't know the feeling of having my heart outside my body.
I didn't know how special it could feel to feed a hungry baby.
I didn't know that bond between a mother and her child.
I didn't know that something so small could make me feel so important and happy.

Before I was a Mom,
I had never got up in the middle of the night every 10 minute s to make sure all was okay.
I had never known the warmth, the joy, the love, the heartache, the wonderment or the satisfaction of being a Mom.
I didn't know I was capable of feeling so much, before I was a Mom.

Thank you to my friend for sending me this via email. ;)

Wednesday, January 2, 2008

Keep Looking

Crying for an Ugly Bird

A bird came to eat from the feeder. An ugly sort of pretty bird, it was too large to eat where the tiny finches did. Still, it seemed content to eat from the trough where the finches’ wasted feed was scattered.

I stared at it. It was actually striking. A beautiful beak, its long tail (longer than most I’ve ever seen) was a colorful autumn red. And when it opened its mouth, the prettiest call I’ve ever heard came forth.

It was its feathered coat which made it ugly. It was tattered and unkempt.

I caught myself attributing human thoughts to this feathered mess . . . “doesn’t it care what it looks like?,” “doesn’t it know it could be pretty if it just tried a little harder?,” “didn’t its mother teach it to care for itself?"

Perhaps, I thought, it had been caught in a storm. Perhaps it was just in a battle for its life against a larger bird. Perhaps it was starved and thirsty.

Perhaps that’s why it is ugly, I ventured.

Then, out of the blue, I started to cry; honest to goodness, I cried for an ugly bird.

We stumbled across people just like that bird every day. We look away in disgust, or we stare and shake our heads, but mostly we ignore them.

We ignore the ugly people because, like the finches, we take so much for granted. We trust that we’ll always have food provided for us with very little effort on our own. Though we may not be beautiful, we trust we are pretty enough to be pleasant. We’re confident our clothes, bought at a store, laundered in a machine, are presentable.

Like the striking yellow and black finch, we fly through a life of relative ease and contentment. We are attracted to fellow finches and repulsed by those who look different.

A couple of “ugly people” were at a recent ball game, and the “finches” around acted true to their call. They pointed; they laughed; they shook their heads; they looked away.

Then, they ignored them.

They were unkempt, but they were not blind. They were dirty, but they were not deaf. They have feelings and dreams and desires.

Yes, they were “ugly” in the sense of how “finches” describe beauty, but given a chance, I trust there’s a beautiful bird underneath.

Given a chance, they could soar as high as the finches.

The above was found at:

Tuesday, December 25, 2007

Dear Santa,

I've been a good mom all year. I've fed, cleaned and cuddled my children on demand, visited their doctor's office more than my doctor and sold sixty-two cases of candy bars to raise money to plant a shade tree on the school playground.

I was hoping you could spread my list out over several Christmases, since I had to write this letter with my son's red crayon, on the back of a receipt in the laundry room between cycles, and who knows when I'll find anymore free time in thenext 18 years.

Here are my Christmas wishes:

I'd like a pair of legs that don't ache (in any color, except purple, which I already have) and arms that don't hurt or flap in the breeze, but are strong enough to pull my screaming child out of the candy aisle in the grocery store.

I'd also like a waist, since I lost mine somewhere in the seventh month of my last pregnancy.

If you're hauling big ticket items this year I'd like fingerprint resistant windows and a radio that only plays adult music, a television that doesn't broadcast any programs containing talking animals, and a refrigerator with a secret compartment behind the crisper where I can hide to talk on the phone.

On the practical side, I could use a talking doll that says, "Yes, Mommy" to boost my parental confidence, along with two kids who don't fight and three pairs of jeans that will zip all the way up without the use of power tools.

I could also use a recording of Tibetan monks chanting "Don't eat in the livingroom" and "Take your hands off your brother," because my voice seems to be just out of my children's hearing range and can only be heard by the dog.

If it's too late to find any of these products, I'd settle for enough timeto brush my teeth and comb my hair in the same morning, or the luxury of eating food warmer than room temperature without it being served in a Styrofoam container.

If you don't mind, I could also use a few Christmas miracles to brighten the holiday season.

Would it be too much trouble to declare ketchup a vegetable? It will clear my conscience immensely.

It would be helpful if you could coerce my children to help around the house without demanding payment as if they were the bosses of an organized crime family.

Well, Santa, the buzzer on the dryer is calling and my son saw my feet under the laundry room door. I think he wants his crayon back.

Have a safe trip and remember to leave your wet boots by the door and come in and dry off so you don't catch cold. Help yourself to cookies on the table but don't eat too many or leave crumbs on the carpet.

Yours Always, MOM

...P.S. One more thing... you can cancel all my requests if you can keep my children young enough to believe in Santa.

Found at: Forward Steps