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Most of the blogs and articles I read are written by women or men married to someone in the military or those who've lost someone who was in the military. Most of these blogs are written by people who've probably got a decade or more better than me, although there are 2 heartbreaking widow-blogs that I follow and both of those writers are actually a few years younger than I.

There are other things I follow of course. I'll read blogs about/from fiction authors that I love, I keep up with the news and parenting articles, childhood development stuff, job-interest stuff and of course the magazine/website for military spouses in this area. I read. I read constantly.

There are a few people who've asked me for years now how I write. That's a loaded question. Mostly I sit in front of a computer, or in front of a spiral notebook with a pen that I love and I just let it out. It's my venting. It's my bitching. It's what makes me feel normal...or sometimes not so normal depending on the day. It's just there. Every day. Or almost every day.

Writers block exists. But generally if you change the subject the block goes away. Taking a break from what I'm working on and just switching the subject seems to do it for me.

I didn't write while Jer was deployed. Before, while he was in training, I did write. I wrote for school and I'd journal, and I wrote to him at least once a day...often with several different colors of ink just to break up the tedium of training for him. But while he was deployed, I only wrote to him. I still read all my blogs that I follow, and lots and lots of pregnancy-related books of course, but I didn't write any blogs or in any journals.

Because I didn't need to bitch.

Of course there were those days that everything went to hell, or someone had made a snarky comment to me that rubbed me the wrong way... And most of the time I'd sit down and email him and cry a little, take new pictures of my ever-growing preggo belly and it'd be ok. There were very, very few times in that year of loneliness that I really bitched. Mostly because when you're sitting in your very pretty house, growing pleasantly plump off of cold cereal and delicious baby-shower cake, in the middle of Colorado, surrounded  by family in all directions and your hubby's across the world, sitting (sweltering) in a tent, in a war zone, surrounded by smelly guys (no offense), with no AC, having rockets being launched at him at all hours of the day...which are long hours when he's the only one there with his MOS... you don't have much to bitch about.

Well..now he's home, and I probably haven't stopped bitching for the last year, to him or in my blog...Yep, it's been a year of dwell time. Because now, he's with me. Now it's safe for me to say that he hogs the bed covers, can't seem to EVER dress the baby in an outfit that matches, leaves computer parts laying all over my house, and he forgets. Just forgets. Things.. randomly. Lol.

Every so often he gets to be "abroad" while I wait at home. And so it's my right, now that I have him back, to take comfort in the things that I get to bitch about.

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.

Dirty Laundry

I have no problem listening and/or debating with people about delicate topics such as religion or politics. I tend to avoid using strong words, insults, or sarcasm and instead use a lot of "hmmms" and nonsense jokes to deflate tense conversation. Being a military spouse means that inevitably there are a lot of strong opinions about military procedure and politics in general that I get to endure... there are a lot of people ashamed of what they do or why they do what they do... there are people proud of what they do and/or how they do it. There are true stories that are covered up by the military, for the military, because in the end... our government is a selfish one. Just like we are a selfish people. I applaud those men and women who serve their country for patriotism... even when I don't understand it.

The first time I visited my current post, there was a shooting at the PX... That news didn't even make the local newspapers or news channel. That shocked me.

There are probably people in Iraq or Afghanistan that go missing, that are killed by training exercises or just get run over by a bus... and sometimes our government decides to say that no one is missing, no one has been taken, and there's no way that some one could be killed by our own stupidity in a foreign and dangerous country. Because we ARE the best so there is no room for mistakes..and blah blah blah. Well.. it's up to the people who hear these stories whether to believe them or not. There is injustice, there are lies and cover-ups just like there has been lies and cover-ups in every military, in every war, since the ancient wars between Sumer and Elam (2700 BC).

Why bring it up? Unless your intention is to seriously anger the American people to create a mutiny against our current government so the new government will do something radical like behead all the current enlisted soldiers as well as commanders because they were trying to mislead civilians. Smart people already know what's going on... if stupid people don't, then they should get smarter by their own accord.. We shouldn't have to wave our dirty laundry out for them to see.