The Things We Carry

I carry a past, not the people in the memories but the memories nonetheless. Secrets, some whispered and some screamed and most of them are not mine.

I carry my child. In every way possible I carry her and there are times when my arms and my heart burn from it. I get to carry all my love and hope and dreams for her, the burp cloths and the diaper bag.
And because of her I carry a future better then I ever could've imagined.

I carry an endless supply of cleaning supplies, including but not limited to: brooms, vacuums, Swiffers (wet and dry) polish, window cleaner, a whole arsenal of lysol products, Mr Clean Magic Erasers, Febreeze, and lets not forget the ever-present carpet cleaner. I wield these things daily.

I also get the joy of carrying pencils and paper, keyboard and printer. Grocery lists, bills, receipts, and budgets. All with the hope that someday there will be more of some and less of others.

I carry parts and pieces of my family. I can feel their pain and their joy, patience, and frustrations. Sometimes I can feel them reaching out across the miles to try to hold my hand. For them and for me, I carry them.

I carry my tattoos. I'm trying to make the world a more colorful place, one inch of skin at a time. With them, I remember who I was, what I believe in, what I needed, what I wanted, who I wanted to be at different places in my life. I carry them so at times when I can't remember my strength, I can look down and remember that's it somewhere inside of me.

I carry fear. And sometimes that fears sneaks up on me, reminds me that I am human and that there are alligators everywhere. I am a woman, a mother, a wife, a military spouse, and I know fear. But more, I know courage.

I carry a razor that I use, maybe once a week..if I remember. A makeup bag full of goodies that sadly is most of the time ignored. A whole lot of unbelievably pretty shoes that I haven't worn in over a year. I carry a disdain for hair curlers, a love for tweezers, and complete adoration for my hair straightener. 

I carry all I feel for my husband. The understanding that I love someone completely unlike me and that I still have no knowledge of how it works out as well as it does. I carry the apologies that I sometimes forget to say and the guilt that ensues when I have said something wrong. I carry the hope for our future and our child's future. I get to carry my support for him. I carry his fears and doubts that bind with mine just as our future is bound. I get to share the weight of deployment, redeployment, transition, and the fear for our friends and family going through the same things.

I carry my dreams.  Our dreams. Not that the world will be a better place really, but that we'll be able to make our place in the world; a place where we can feel safe, content, and where we can keep dreaming. Where we can teach our babies what it's like to have dreams, how to make some come true, how to let go of others and how to decide, how to work those dreams.

Looking for sloppy kisses

I think as parents, a lot of times we forget to enjoy our children and what a shame that is. We get them needing us and then wanting us for just a few years, where they actually want to be around us, want our attention, where they actively look for our pride. I'm trying to enjoy it.

The last time I visited my parents and my in-laws, I watched my mom with my daughter, watched them enjoy each other... it was amazing. Watched my in-laws and the rest of my family look at her and show her off with pride and joy and none of the annoyance or stress-lines between the eyebrows that I know I get after a long afternoon with my baby. True, they don't spend 24 hours a day with her, or even 12 hours a day with her so they can enjoy everything about her, even the tears and tantrums that inevitably happens after missing a nap or two. And watching them enjoy her, makes me wonder if I'm enjoying her as much as I should be.

Since moving away from my family, I think I got caught up in the stress of it all. The moving across country, unpacking, learning a new city, a new state, a new post...thank God I didn't have to learn a new country and new language. But not only did I have to unpack and explore a new state, my husband and I had to reacquaint after not living with each other for so long. Redeployment can be hell on some marriages, just as deployment is hell on marriages, and thankfully my marriage has not gone through any of the horrors that many do while readjusting.. but still, it's a readjustment. Hubby is not only readjusting to living with me, but living with a baby for the first time. A baby that seems to appreciate me a lot more then she appreciates him.. not because he's not an amazing, thoughtful daddy but just because she doesn't know him.

Anyway, I got caught up in all of that. Tension/stress headaches plagued me the first weeks I was here... I also blame the new climate, but, it was no fun. Baby's do not like stressed out mama's, and husband's do not like cranky mama's or cranky baby's. After going back to my native Colorado and getting to witness the connection between my baby and all of her family there... I feel better. Less stressed, more...peaceful, I guess would be the word. Peaceful with the changes happening in my life, with my relationships, with the baby.

I look forward to the days where the baby is happy, smiling, laughing, giving sloppy, open-mouthed kisses out freely, but I also understand that she is a person. She will have bad days.. add teething, massive brain development, and rainy days stuck inside, well.. she will have bad days. Lol. But I need to remember that one hour of her being grumpy does not make a bad day, especially when once she's eaten a little and taken a little nap, she'll be looking for sloppy kisses again.

Writing Again

It's been more than 7 months since I've sat down with my thoughts and a keyboard and tried to let everything flow out... so this blog might be a little redundant and a little boring.

We just PCS'd to Washington state, and wow... living on post is completely different then I thought it would be. There are less friendly people, more larger then life people, and a lot more screaming children then I thought there would be. When I thought about living on a post (finally) after 2 years of living off post and away from my husband, I thought there would be more a sense of community, and of understanding. Perhaps you have to jump through hoops that the fellow milspouses put up to become part of this community. Maybe it's just this housing community. Or perhaps I'm not trying hard enough yet to find my niche here.


My baby turned 7 months old a few days ago. She's a constant amazement to me. My personality with her dad's looks... oh man.

Being away from home... meaning my old home where my family and friends live... hasn't been as hard as I think they wanted it to be. I do miss them, I miss driving somewhere and not getting lost, I miss having some one to babysit if I need an hour to just breathe. But I wanted to be away from them and from the things I knew there. I needed to be with my husband again after a year long training stint and then him going straight to Iraq, leaving me 9 weeks pregnant and dazed. I don't think anyone except for him ever knew how hard that was for me. I don't think I ever let any one try to understand.

 Perhaps that's the pride of a military spouse. Taking pride in their suffering and their strength. Conveniently brushing off all those friends and family members who wish they could help you. I think we're very good at closing ourselves in, or at least our true feelings in and only projecting small bits of our joy or pain or whatever, just because we relish in the fact that the majority of people (meaning civilians) wouldn't be able to handle the lives that we live. Not true? I dunno..