12 in 2012 and I'm doing a TDY (Sorta)

Email from The Embassy's Donna, who's practically my neighbor (blogging out of Amman) gave me the coolest idea, which she swiped from somewhere else off the blogosphere.  Top 12 moments of 2012.  I've had major writer's block for the past few weeks (I hate to admit it, but I'm still sulking over my recent arthritis diagnosis), so I've decided that I will grab her idea and use it.

I don't know that I'd classify these as the TOP 12 (because they are NOT all awesome and happy) - but I think I would say they were 12 very influential moments in our household in 2012.  So here goes...

12) We spent the beginning of 2012 enjoying Luxor.   Puking our guts out the entire week preceding our journey, we all somehow managed to not only pull it together to fly, but to actually enjoy our trip to see the temples of Luxor and Karnak.  Karnak was my favorite site we've visited in Egypt.

11) Running and I went head-to-head in March.  I threatened to give it up entirely.  The fab hubby was ever so fabulous and told me I was stupid for even thinking I should do so.  I *heart* him.  He was (of course) right, so I signed up for...

10) A MARATHON!  Go big or go home, right?  Well, in my case, this meant leaving home (Cairo) and going to San Francisco for a long weekend and the Nike Women's Marathon.  And it was awesome.  I'm so proud to have (finally) checked this off my list.  I first thought about doing a marathon way back in 2009 when we lived in L.A.  Some dreams take years to fulfill, and this was definitely one of them.

9) We had a awesome R&R in the U.S., visiting Florida for the kiddos, and Ohio to see our families.  Abby lost her iPad in London's Heathrow Airport on the way to the U.S., but a very kind stranger found it and gave it to lost and found at Heathrow.  We actually got it back in time before we returned to Cairo! Random acts of kindness like this always restore my faith in humanity.

8) I learned how monstrously awful UNITED AIRLINES can be to its travelers.  And I will never forgive them.  They lost our luggage not once but twice, and lied to us about sending it back to us.  They cancelled/changed/delayed five (that's right --- FIVE) of our seven flights and attempted to rebook one of those flights two days later at 11:00PM, effectively leaving us stranded in Dulles Airport.  I cried.  And just when I thought it couldn't get worse, they canceled our tickets back to Cairo without telling us.  Yes, I'm bitter.  Yes, I cried again.  And, oh, as an update it took them FOUR MONTHS to reimburse us a lousy $200 for the items I had to buy while we waited for them to track down our lost luggage.  Do not fly UNITED AIRLINES.

7) The fab hubby and I had an amazing time at prom the Marine Ball this year (it was our 2nd Ball) AND we survived bidding season!  The day before the Ball, Jason accepted a handshake to D.C. for summer 2013.  Bring on the Starbucks.

6) Abby turned seven, Owen turned nine, and Kellen turned two.  And sometimes, all three of them make me feel older than I really am.  Blink and they are no longer babies.  Blink again and they are no longer toddlers.  Everyone says it because it is so true - time flies.  Kids grow way too fast.

5) I had the opportunity to go to Bangkok for the State Department this year, as part of the annual nurse continuing education conference.  It was amazing!  Especially since the only other country I've ever been to outside of the U.S. is Egypt.  I had an awesome week meeting nurses from other embassies and I got to explore Bangkok a bit as well.

4)  My Army Reserve career continues to flourish.  I performed well on my annual physical test (PT), acing the run (of course), and survived the sit-ups (barely) and push-ups testing.  In August, I completed my yearly required Annual Training in Ft. Carson, Colorado. I work there every year in the Emergency Department at Evans Army Community Hospital and I love it.  And in October, just one week after finishing my marathon, I found out I was promoted to Captain!

3) I've struggled the past few months, dealing with a new diagnosis of arthritis. In fact, I only blogged once in December - and it was about my arthritis.  I'm still learning how to cope.  Mostly right now, I'm angry and hurt and I'm still working through the emotions.  It's most likely rheumatoid arthritis, but while my physical symptoms are consistent with the diagnosis, my lab work is not.  I'll be seeing a specialist soon (more info to follow on this - keep reading), so I'm hoping to get a more definitive answer.

2) September 11, 2012.  Benghazi.  Khartoum.  Sanaa.  Tunis.  How do you describe the heartache all of the Foreign Service feels?  The anger.  The sadness.  The fear.  For us, it was incredibly personal, as  our embassy here in Cairo was also attacked.  It's hard to feel safe when your walls have been breached.  It's hard to get back to "normal", wondering if it will happen again.

1) And now for some new news, that which was decided in 2012, but I haven't yet blogged about.

In February, I'll be doing a 6-month "TDY" in Los Angeles, California.  The fab hubby and the kids will finish out the assignment here in Cairo, and we'll all catch back up together in August in Virginia (where we'll be living for at least two years).

Here's the thing(s).  My ER RN certifications are expiring in April (that's right, a mere four months) and I can't renew them in Egypt.  If I don't renew them, then I can't work ER.  And those of you who know me, know I LOVE working in the ER.  It's my career 'home.' It's where I always return. I started as a new grad in trauma, and I always miss it when I'm gone from it.  Now, I absolutely LOVE working for the embassy Health Unit, too!  But if I don't get there certifications re-certified, I flat-out can't work ER when we return to the U.S. (at least until I get new certifications - which is a huge pain in the tuckus, of course).

And yes, it was incredibly hard to make this choice but there were other things involved in this decision, like...

My arthritis (see, I said I'd get back to this topic).  I need a specialist and I need follow-ups and more follow-ups.  It's not likely to be a quick fix.  And I can't get it taken care of in Cairo.  I considered a medevac as an alternative option, but a medevac is short and may not give me all the follow-up I need.  My left hand already has a permanent deformity and I don't want there to be any more.  I'm not taking any chances.  Plus...

My required Army Reserves Annual Training has to be completed no later than October 1, 2013.  And while I could possibly squeak it in there sometime in August or September, we would be full-on-crazy-in-the-middle-of-a-move-back-from-Cairo.  Not to mention both the fab hubby and I would be starting new jobs during this time frame.  AND the kids would be starting a new school.  Planning a trip to Colorado to complete my Army training is the crazy icing on a crazy cake during August/September.  Nope.  It would be near impossible to do if I waited to return to the U.S. in August.

For months, I'd been receiving recruiter emails to work a travel nursing contract.  And I once was a travel nurse (2008 - I went to Bakersfield, CA on a ER contract assignment), and I loved it.  So why not consider it?  The contracts are good in the ER, the timing is perfect, and it gets me back to the U.S. to accomplish all the above items I need to do before we arrive in Virginia in August.  Arthritis specialist.  Annual military training.  ER re-certifications.

Is it hard to leave my kids and hubby for six months?  Dude.  Don't even ask that question.  Because yes!  Yes, it is.  Will my heart ache while I'm missing them?  Yes.  Will I cry? Yes.  But is it best for our family?  YES.  And that is what ultimately drives me (well, actually US) to do it.

How many of us have lived through our spouse doing a TDY for their job, whether 90 days, 6 months, or a full year in AIP (Afghanistan/Iraq/Pakistan)?!  It's done all the time.  (And don't forget - we've actually done it.  The hubby was in Baghdad for a year 2010-2011.)  This is just, well, slightly different in that I'm not going someplace crappy for 6 months.  Really, if you ask me, the fab hubby has the very short end of this stick - he's going to end up doing pack-out all by himself AND flying solo from Cairo to the U.S. with three kids.  Not to mention the six months of solo-parenting he'll be doing.  Ouch.  He's going to have tough job.  Truly, tougher than mine.

But wouldn't you know it, he's on-board with it 100%.  Because we both sat down and talked about it and realized this is what's best for our family.  August will be here soon enough, and we'll be back together as a family, just like we belong.

So there you have it, folks.  2012 in nutshell for us.  Some of it was bad, some of it was good, and some of it was a mix of both.  Just like every other year, huh?  So welcome, 2013.  We're looking forward to a new year.  Lots of changes for us are coming up, but we are ready for them.

Why Now? And Geeze the Toddler Turns TWO!

It took me three years.

In summer 2009, we were living in Los Angeles where the fab hubby was first assigned.  I love L.A., pretty much more than any place I've ever been.  The weather is nearly always perfect and we were fortunate enough to live close to the ocean in San Pedro (near the Port of L.A.).  Every day before my ER shift (I worked afternoons 11a-11p), I would stop by Starbucks, grab a latte, and head to the shoreline.  I'd run a fabulous 4 miles or so, sit and watch the ships weave in and out of port while drinking my latte and enjoying the smell of the salty air.  Then I'd head home for a quick shower before starting my workday.

It was that year that I truly began to love running.  I'd been dabbling in running off and on for years; first when I joined the Army in college, later as I tried to get in shape after popping out the first kid.  But I never really enjoyed it as much as I began to the year we lived in L.A.  Owen was five year old and Abby was three years old (and having baby #3 wasn't even a thought in our mind that summer). I could no longer claim 'new baby' as the reason I was out of shape.  It was the perfect time to dedicate some time to run and take care of myself.

It was that summer that I wrote out a personal goal and posted it on Facebook (remember when you could write "notes" on Facebook?).  I was going to run a marathon!  I had all the time in the world to train.  No newborn to keep me up all night.  A good work schedule and childcare.  Perfect weather with a perfect ocean view.  Yes.  A marathon.

And then my doubting brain took over.  I looked at training schedules.  16, 18, 20, 22 mile training runs? Heck.  I couldn't even fathom 10 mile runs.  FIVE MONTHS of commitment to train?  And even then, what if I didn't finish??!!

I backed out of the dream almost as soon as I posted my goal out loud.  Thankfully, I didn't give up on running though - because by then I absolutely I loved it.  I ran two half marathons while we lived there.  One in Malibu in October 2009 (and it was a beautiful coastal view) and one in Huntington Beach in February 2010 (also coastal and oh-so-beautiful).  A week after my half marathon in Huntington Beach, I found out I was pregnant.  A month later we returned to Ohio, the fab hubby went to D.C. for training and then on to Baghdad for a year.

My running buddy.
He's about 7 months old here.
BTW, this kid ran his first race in utero.  

Our son Kellen was born on October 20, 2010 (Two years ago! Oh My Gosh!  He's two today!!).  Just five weeks later, with newborn in stroller, and latte in hand, I hit the trails and began running again.  Soon I was up to three miles as he slept in the stroller.  I again began to dream about running longer distances - but honestly, even a half marathon seemed unlikely.  Three kids in tow, hubby in Baghdad, part-time job in the ER, and the weather in Ohio wasn't exactly accommodating.  I hardly even dared to think the word marathon - I *knew* it was impossible.

The fab hubby returned home from Baghdad in July 2011, and I was able to get a bit more mileage in.  Just before we left for Cairo the following month, I ran a 10K.  It was a great run but exhausting.  I couldn't believe the toll just a 10K could do.  I ached everywhere - knees, hips, calves.  I guess it was also time to admit that I was a bit older and, after three kids, my body wasn't exactly what it used to be.

So true.

Cairo has definitely been a challenge for running.  Minimal green space, terrible traffic, aggressive street dogs, and of course the hot desert climate.  I ran off and on after arriving here, but with a full-time job and trying to adjust to a new country while also staying sane with three kids, I felt something had to give.  I started to give up on running.  At one point, I even considered quitting running forever.  Thankfully, the fab hubby was super fabulous and convinced me otherwise.  So I kept running.

Then, just a month later, I got an email from Nike about the 2012 Nike Women's Marathon in San Francisco.  Slated for October 14th, I toyed around with the idea.  Five months to train.  But all those obstacles...Cairo.  A toddler who wasn't sleeping well (and hence, neither was I).  Going to the U.S. for R&R in July.  Full-time job.  Fitting in my annual Army Reserves training. Not to mention San Francisco was a 17-hour trip.  With a 9-hour time zone difference.

Why now?  Why not wait a few more years?  The toddler would be older.  Maybe we'd be living in a running-friendly country.  Maybe I'd have more time.  Heck.  Even when I'd had more time three years ago, I hadn't done it.  Why now?

I couldn't shake it.  I had said it in 2009, and it still followed me.  If I don't do it NOW, maybe I'll never do it?  I want to run a marathon just once in my life.  I want to know I can do it.  Signing up for it was scary.  Once my fee was paid (it was hefty - $200), air flights scheduled, and a hotel booked, ALL OF WHICH WERE NON-REFUNDABLE, I was locked in.

But here's the thing.  All those obstacles - - the toddler, the kids, the job, the lack of green space, impending jet lag --- they aren't what really mattered.  What really were the issues were the doubts in my head.  What if I don't finish?  What if I CAN'T finish? Those were the ones that were truly holding me back.

One other real obstacle?  Committing myself to the time to run.  Committing myself to running instead of say, going out to lunch with friends, or dinner or the movies or even just hanging out with the kids and the hubby on a Saturday evening.  Most training schedules recommend running 4 - 5 times per week with at least one long run of 20-22 miles.  I knew I would only be able to run 3 - 4 times per week.  And I would only be able to get one long run of 18 miles completed just two weeks before my marathon.  But that was ok.  Because it had to be.

I should have done it in 2009 when we were living in Los Angeles and I honestly had the time to do it!  But back then, my fear of not finishing got the better of me.  So here I am three years later.  Technically at a busier, crazier time than it was then.

And I just ran a marathon.

It wasn't easy.  And honestly, I can't say I'll ever do it again.

The first 20 miles?  They were easy.  The last 6.2?  The most painful, most challenging 6.2 miles I've ever done.  I called the fab hubby at mile 20 when things were looking rough.  He and the kids cheered me on.  And he told me that he never doubted once that I would finish.

The cool thing?  I actually didn't doubt myself either.  It was hard; it felt impossible!  But it wasn't impossible, I kept telling myself.  I wasn't going to stop.  One foot in front of the other.  Keep moving forward.  Don't look back.

5 hours.  38 minutes.  41 seconds.

Nike makes it easy for me to be cheesy.

Post race.  Wearing the new bling.

San Francisco firemen in tuxedos passed out
the necklaces at the finish line off of
silver platters.  It was a nice touch.

And now for a sweet trip down memory lane.  Happy Birthday to our youngest, Kellen! He's two!  I know.  Every one says this - time sure does fly.  It seems like just yesterday I was this...

38 weeks pregnant with Kellen.  He was 8 pounds 8 oz at birth!

And he was really tiny (in comparison to now), like this...

One week old.

And I always love to put him in ridiculous shirts.  Like this...

You know this little dude is gonna love Starbucks, right?

Simply because this is amusing...

 He's always been bigger than the dog.

I hate first birthdays.  So messy.  Like this...

First birthday!  Finally.  He grew some hair!

And next thing you know, we've got a toddler. Dang.  He's cute!

This past spring.  He suddenly morphed into a toddler!

With Daddy.  Matching blue eyes.

Happy 2nd Birthday, Kellen!

Some Things Don't Change

It's been just a little over a year since I last slept with my iPhone under my pillow.  Back when the fab hubby was serving a UT in Baghdad.  Every night I'd check Facebook for an update; it was an eight-hour time difference, so as I was going to bed at night, he was getting up in the morning.

When I woke in the middle of the night to feed our newborn baby, I'd flip through the feed, checking to see if anything new had happened.  I'd catch up on the FS blogosphere and find out if something important had happened while I was sleeping.

Of course, there was always the fear that I'd get a call in the middle of the night, and if I didn't hear the phone, I'd miss it.  That's the worst feeling.  And so, really for this reason, I slept with my phone under my pillow.

Naively, I thought that when the UT assignment ended and we were together as a family in Cairo, my nights with the phone tucked under my pillow were over.  If you'd asked me last year if I thought our Embassy in Cairo (or any U.S. Embassy for that matter) would be breached by rioters, I would have given a resounding "Never."

But the truth is, those things that we push to the back of our minds, those things that we think will 'never' happen, those things that we plan for but assume will never be needed for anything other than a practice drill are a reality today.  As I watch the news feed with pictures of the very Embassy I actually work in with protestors burning our flag, chanting words of hate, and scribbling obscenities on the walls I pass by every day, I am truly frightened.  Frightened in a way I've never felt before.

It was different when I was in Ohio and he was in Iraq.  Because although I was worried for the hubby, I also felt removed from it.  What he was doing didn't directly affect our day-to-day lives.  The rest of our family was safe.  He had no reason to worry about me or the kids - we were far away and secure from what he doing.  I could drive eight miles and not be in the middle of a violent riot.  I didn't have to witness any of this first-hand.  I was proud of him, supportive of him, and so very happy when he returned home.

This week, I've again found myself sleeping alone with my phone under my pillow.  I've waited and prayed for the "I'm ok" phone calls.  It's surreal, being so close to what's going on and yet going about my day (save for going to the Embassy) as if something really bad isn't going on just eight miles away.  The kids go to school.  I work at an off-Embassy Health Unit.  I ate at McDonald's today.  I run at the track.  Normal stuff.

I feel the guilt roll over me when I realize how normal my day was.  Because just eight miles away, those Americans working so hard at MY Embassy are walking through tear gas and hearing non-stop screams of hate.  They are witnessing the local staff so dedicated to our Embassy work to keep our Embassy secure from their own countrymen who wish to destroy it.  They witness the police colliding with the protestors.

My husband is there.  And while every fiber in my body screams that I want him to be home with us here, right now, I know that now is not the time for him to care for us.  No matter how close we are to him.  It's only eight miles.  How my heart aches at the reality of this.  We are so close to him, but his life is very different from ours at this very moment.

I'm proud of him and I'm proud that we serve our country in this capacity.  If you ask me if I regret coming here given the current circumstances, I absolutely say "No."  Bad things are happening, and bad things may continue.  But I know why we chose this,  I know what we represent, and I'm proud to be a part of this diplomatic community.

And so tonight I'll sleep alone again with my phone under my pillow, waiting for the calls and checking news feed updates.  But the circumstances are different now from what they were just a year ago.  I just wish I would have realized that it doesn't get any easier, even though we're not separated physically by distance any more.  His world is still very different from mine.

Am I Happy Here?

I've been off my blog for a few weeks.  Doing some soul-searching.  Trying to categorize the crazy swirling thoughts in my mind.

Cairo is our first post overseas.  And I like it.  I think.  It's hard to say.  Maybe I don't.  I don't know.  Yes. No.

I'm withdrawn, and I don't know that I can, or even should put it into words.  Because then I have to deal with it.  I haven't reached out to my friends about it.  I've kept it inside.  I feel lost.

I did talk to fab hubby about it.  A lot.  And he says blog.  Blog because when I write, it helps me sort out my feelings.  So here goes.

See, sometimes I think I love living here.  I sit on the porch as the call to prayer echoes through the city.  I hop in my car and zig-zag down the road, flowing with the traffic, honking, swerving, gawking at the sights.  I take in the view of the Nile River.  Sometimes you can see the Giza Pyramids all the way from the Autostrad while driving to Khan Al Khalili.  It's breathtaking.  I love bargain shopping at the souk.  I love that I've bought something like ten pashminas.  I love listening to my children count in Arabic.  I truly enjoyed our trip to Luxor.  I love my job.

But often I don't love living here.  I don't like Egyptian food.  Sure, I love the local bread.  But I don't like koshari.  I don't like foul (the Egyptian equivalent of refried beans).  I don't drink tea.  The garbage, the filth, the dust.  It makes me so angry.  It's piled everywhere - doesn't matter how nice the neighborhood is.  It's dirty.  And when I'm in a mood, the lack of traffic laws, the near-accidents, the ridiculous motorcycle-turned-uhaul that almost hits a kid on the road puts me over the edge.  It's hard to run outside safely.  It's hard to run quick errands to the store.  It's restrictive.  I can't walk alone at night; I've been warned about running alone through the streets.  Heck, I've been chased by street dogs.  We don't explore the city in the ways I thought we would.

I guess maybe we were sold on the Cairo of the 1990s.  Of the Cairo that was American-friendly.  The Cairo that was safe.  Maybe we weren't ready for the post-revolution Egypt.  And maybe my expectations were, no, are unreasonable.  Because, honestly,  who cares if I don't like the food?  We have  commissary that carries all of the grocery items that I need from the U.S.  There are plenty of U.S.-type restaurants here that I love.  Chili's.  TGIF.  McDonald's. Pinkberry's.  Starbucks.

And who cares if we don't get to explore a lot of the city?  We live in a nice neighborhood with the rest of the American community.  Really, everything we need is here.  The kids' school is fantastic. I love being involved there. Not to mention we have a great American club with a restaurant, pool, playground, and lots of green space for the kids to play in.  Should I really be so upset with the garbage everywhere else so long as my yard is clean?

But it's a bubble.  A nice little microcosm of all the American things that I love.  That really removes us far from the daily life of Cairo.  Which makes me just wonder - if the things that are making me most happy here aren't the Cairo things, but the American things, then why live here?

I'm sure there's some sort of research out there about mobile lives and happiness and the process we go through as we try to assimilate to our new nomadic lives.  But whatever the answer is, it's all got me in a funk.

I look at our time here and I realize, it's all so very temporary.  We just got here and we're going to be leaving to go who-knows-where in just a little over a year.  I like our apartment, but we didn't pick it.  It was picked for us.  The furniture isn't ours.  I don't even have pictures up on the wall.

My closest friend, who I've only known for six short months, is leaving post.  She's the kind of friend that I feel like I've known forever, and she's leaving.  It's a new feeling for me.  You see, I've always been the one who leaves.  We've moved three times over the past three years - I'm the one who leaves.  Not the one who gets left.

I'm sitting here typing all this out and the questions keep rolling over and over in my mind - am I happy here?  Is this what I thought it would be?  It sounded so glamorous.  We're going to live in Cairo.  We spent an entire year prepping for the move; we sold the kids on this idea.  What is it that I'm looking for? Why do I miss the U.S. so much when most of the stuff I really love about it is here?

And I beat myself up for it.  I feel the guilt rolling over me.  As I look at everything I have, everything I've wanted and I dare ask myself if I'm happy with this all?  What is wrong with me?

::deep breath::

I admit, I don't know the answer.  Maybe it's good that it's temporary - that the time we get is just enough time to find the things to appreciate about the culture, to learn something new, and then move on.  Maybe it's good that the stuff that makes me happiest is the American things.  After all, I AM an American.

And my family - I couldn't love them more.  I get more time with the kids, more time to be involved in their school, more time with the baby.  The days I work?  I get more time with the fab hubby.  I even get to see him at lunch.  We work out at the gym together.  Carpool together.  All that time that I was missing him so desperately when he was in Iraq and I was stuck in Ohio with two kids and a newborn, all that time I was dreaming of the days we'd be together in Cairo, we have that now.  I wouldn't change that for the world.

I KNOW that I am blessed with all that we have.  I am grateful for this time we have, for the opportunity to serve in the capacity we've chosen, and for the opportunity to explore a new culture.  So maybe I shouldn't beat myself up so much about this all.

But the funk is there.  I'm knee-deep in it, and I'm trying to pull myself out of it.

I think that at least for now, it's ok for me to mourn what I'm losing - my friend going to another post.  But I know I've made a life-long friend.  Who knows?  Maybe our husbands will get posted together someday?  Maybe it will even be in the U.S. where we can laugh and reminisce about all the crazy traffic in Cairo while we sip lattes in Starbucks.

Maybe I shouldn't beat myself up so much for feeling this way.  Sure, it's temporary, our time here.  But that shouldn't mean it's not home.  It's my responsibility to make it home.  I'm going to put some pictures up.  Make it a bit more "ours." And celebrate that when my kids spill Kool-Aid on the furniture, I'm not the one who paid for it. (And be thankful that it's dark material!)

Maybe it's not exactly what I expected.  And maybe I miss the U.S. more than I thought I would.  That's what R&R is for, right?  We have ours planned for one month, starting in mid-July...a trip to Orlando for the kids before we head to Ohio to see family and friends.  All the stuff I'm missing, it will always be there.

And then maybe, just maybe, I'll realize what I miss about Egypt?  We'll see.

But there is no specific answer right now.  Am I happy living here?  Yes, no, maybe, sometimes, yes...

It's Just Regular Life. Really.

Mmmm...a delicious, normal, caramel
macchiato.  Just not a Starbucks.

We've been in Cairo a little over one month.  I think one more month and we're something like official veterans of Cairo.  At least to all the new people still arriving from other places.

I don't know what I was thinking when we lived in Ohio, but somehow I thought living in Cairo would feel more...exciting, exotic, exuberant, existential?  Like it would be one long vacation?  In any case, I really really thought it would feel different.

But the longer we're here, the more I realize it's pretty much regular life.  I wake up, take a shower, drink a coffee, harp on the kids about getting on the bus on time.  Kiss the baby, go to work, see some patients.  Each lunch or go to the gym.  Gripe about the 2:00pm "OMG.  I ate too much and I need a nap."  Don't get a nap, see some more patients, wonder what's for dinner.  Talk about the weather ("Sunny today, eh?"), eat a snack, pack up my stuff.  Go home, kiss the baby, eat dinner, help the kids with the homework.  Watch a bit o' TV with the hubby, set the alarm, go to bed.

Really.  Normal. Regular.  Day-to-day patterns.

Then I think about it some more.  Really, it is different, right?  I mean we talk about things here like vacationing at the Red Sea over the Eid (holiday), traveling to Luxor for a weekend, and flying to Cyprus next year (fingers crossed).  But we say it as simply as if we were flying to Walt Disney World for a week.  We make statements like "Call a driver so we can go shopping" and "Does our (seriously awesome) nanny/housekeeper take the baby to shop or does she have the boabs get the stuff delivered?"

But we also worry about the recent violence and the rioting the streets, checking our emergency radio and making sure we have supplies for a safe haven and a plan for evac, should the needs arise.

And on the flip side, I get to ride to work with the fab hubby every day and we get to eat lunch together.  After he spent that year in Iraq, I'm glad to have this kind of new normalcy.

I find myself saying "Alhamdulilah" (praise be to God) when things happen like...my espresso machine FINALLY arrives via USPS.  A full month after I shipped it from the States.  Sure, it was beat up and broken, truly destroyed.  But it arrived.  Or when the commissary has actual bacon in the refrigerated case.  Mmmm...bacon...Alhamdulilah...

And that dinner I'm wondering about around 4pm when I'm finishing up at work?  Our (seriously awesome) nanny/housekeeper makes the best stir fry.  Ever.  And seeing as how I am quite possibly the worst cook in the world, I am thankful every day for this.

Let's see.  I've observed pick-up trucks with slabs of meat stacked up in the flatbed with men sitting on top of it smoking cigarettes (apologies for not taking a photo).  While it was driving 50 miles and hour down the road, zigging in and out of traffic.  I've seen cars drive on the sidewalk.  I've seen women sit side-saddle on motorcycles holding on to children in each arm.  At first it was, honestly, a little shocking.  But now?  It's just part of the day to day.

Donkey carts. Camels. Goats in the street.  McDonald's, TGIF, Chili's --- all delivered directly to our house.  Drinking only bottled water.  Water shutting off, no water, then water forcefully spraying through the faucet and soaking me.  No cable; only satellite.  Riding the metro subway and trying to read all the signs in Arabic and relaxing when I realize that it's also written in English.

Oh, Alhamdulilah!  Lots and lots of chocolate and pastry shops.  And fresh local bread delivered to our door twice a week.  

Now lots of this sounds different, huh?  Like all exciting, and crazy, and hyped up!?  

But somehow, it's just not.  Somehow it all, the good and the not so good, becomes 'regular' life.  Normal.  Just...life.

Then I think, that maybe, just maybe...this might be the key to getting through and enjoying life in different countries.  We're only here in Cairo for two years, and who knows where two years from now*. 

If it's all exciting, crazy, and hyped up!, how will we ever get to just enjoy life?  It HAS to be regular, normal life.  It's not that I don't appreciate it all.  Because I do.  I really, really do.  I just think that I appreciate it more because it is regular, normal, day-to-day life.  At least for us.  

Whatever 'normal' is. We have it here.

Just another 'normal' nap.

[*Please let our next assignment be hot, near the ocean, and sunny year-round.  If you're reading this, State Department, make note of Heather's wish list.  Thank you.] 

Buh-Bye, Iraq!

After enduring more than 24 hours of travel, a turbulence-induced vomiting person sitting RIGHT BESIDE HIM, and a 3 1/2 hour delayed flight from D.C. to Pittsburgh...my much better half has finally arrived home.  Exactly where he belongs.

Lunch at Red Robin, who I have to give special kudos to --- our meals were on the house after they found out Jason had just arrived in from Iraq; a quick stop to treat a special girl at Toys R Us; and a drive home in humid rain.  And now home.  For a bit of normalcy.  We have six weeks of downtime to unwind before we fly to Cairo.  We all need it; time together as family can be hard to come by! 

For those who have asked me how I survived the past year with three kids and a hubby in Iraq (and don't forget those six months in D.C. for training!), I have but a list of five essentials.

1.Lattes

2. Antacids

3. Stash of Chocolate for late nights (or wine if that's your thing)

4. Running

5. Strong Support Network (friends, family, work)

In the right proportions, these will get you through anything.  Late night? Got to work an early shift at the ER? Triple-shot latte (actually, make it two).  Kids won't go to bed until 11:00pm and you have two more hours of stuff to get done?  Chocolate.  Lots of it.  Kid accidentally breaks one of your few adult treasures - a precious bowl from Tiffany's? [Sobbing] and a call to a good, good friend.  Stories about Iraq in the news makes your stomach churn in ways you never thought possible?  Antacids. And another call to a really good friend.  Stressed to the max and feel like you're gonna snap the head off of the next person who asks your for something?  Long, long, LONG run.  Maybe you can even run a race with some friends.

See?  This list of five is exactly what you need.

To everyone who's been through this with us - and you know who you are! - Thank you for your love and support.

And that's it for now...because I'm off to go see my favoritist person in the whole world, who's been on the opposite side of the world from me for far, FAR, too long.

My favoritist person.  In the whole world.
Where he belongs.  Abby and Kellen were so happy
to see Daddy!  Owen is at Cub Scout camp this week,
but will see him tomorrow evening at family night.

Finally. Just One Week.

I'm feeling melancholy tonight, thinking back over my husband's unaccompanied Baghdad assignment.  It's been nearly 1 1/2 years since Jason started the seemingly never-ending journey to Iraq.  Six months in D.C. for training; nearly a year in Baghdad.  And now, we have just a week. One teensy weensy week.  But the longest week.  Ever.  To get through.

In just one week...Jason will be home.  And I won't have to look forward to NOT looking forward to him heading back to Iraq.

Come to think about it, in just one week...

I alone won't have to bandage up boo-boos and wipe away tears when the kids fall and get hurt.  And I alone won't fail at mending broken hearts when friends hurt the kids' feelings.

There will be a real cook in the house.  One who makes meals.  That actually taste good.

Someone else will be here to carry the never-ending mountains of laundry down two flights of stairs to the basement.

I won't have to eat lunch alone in a restaurant reading a newspaper.

I won't have to walk through the house with the cell phone hoping for great reception in a room that won't dump our call into the black hole abyss of dropped calls.  Or hold my free hand over one ear while squishing the cell phone up to my other ear as tightly as possible so I can hear him better.  Because even a call that I can barely hear him is better than no call at all.

I'll be able to get mad at someone else, other than the kids, for using up all the hot water just before my shower.  Or for using my towel.  Or for forgetting to put a new roll of toilet paper in the bathroom on the dispenser.

We'll watch the kids as they catch fireflies with the sun drifting off into the horizon.  We'll both hear the baby as he tries to say new words and watch as he climbs into things he has no business climbing into.

We'll stay up late and talk about our dreams and plans.  And listen to the kids giggling upstairs as they pretend to fall asleep.

I won't go to sleep every night feeling all alone in a house full of sleeping children.

We'll be a family again.  All together, as we should be.  What a journey we've made to get back to exactly where we belong.

We'll both get to watch this little guy get into trouble.

Running Therapy

Sept 2009.  I had to dig this up from some old photos.
Rusty and me.  Long Beach, CA.
One of my favorite places to run.  And frolic.
Rusty always liked to do both, too.

Running.  It's one of my passions.  When Jason was home on leave, I was able to pound out some extra miles since I didn't have to run with the baby, increasing my distance in preparation for a 1/2 marathon I'd like to run in NoVA in August before our move to Cairo.  My fab in-laws are taking the kids so Jason and I can head out to D.C. together for a few days; he has some stuff to do for State; I'm just tagging along for fun and a run.  Of course, anything that justifies a nice little 4-day weekend away from home with the hubby (NO KIDS) is a great excuse.  We haven't had a vacation alone in years.

But once Jason returned back to Iraq in early-June, I found myself trudging along, just trying to get through the days.  It's been hard; the kids are out of school; I'm working a few more hours in the ER; somehow I'm buried in laundry no matter what I do; Owen has baseball nearly EVERY.BLEEPING.NIGHT.  (But I admit - I love watching him play, and I'm so very proud of him!)

I can overcome all of this; I've done it before.  But the biggest heartache for me is missing our dog, Rusty.

What I've never mentioned is that my last long run (8-miles) was the run I received the call that Rusty had been hit by a car.  I was 7 miles into the run, and more than a mile away from my car. I was high on endorphins and really enjoying my stride, only having had to walk a small bit of it.  Then the call came in on my iPhone.  I had to run as fast as I could to get back to my car.  And I couldn't do it.  I had to walk part of it, and I hated myself for not having the strength to get home to my family, to be there to comfort the kids, to get to the vet with Rusty faster.  It was the longest mile of my life.  My heart aches whenever I think about it.

I didn't run or work out once the entire week after Jason left.  I kept telling myself I was too busy.  Too much going on.  Not enough time.

And I realized I was just making excuses so I could avoid running.  I was trying to forget that moment when I was running and the call came.  Of saying "Hey, honey, what's up?" and Jason telling me I needed to get home as fast as I could.  Oh, awfulness.  If I ran, would I keep reliving that moment?

My mom came over this week for a few days and stayed with me and the kids.  It was nice outside and I could feel the pull, the lure of the pavement.  My feet were aching to move.  I wanted to put on my headphones and stretch out my stride.  Feel the sun on my shoulders.  I laced up my sneakers and told mom I'd been back in about an hour.  That's what it took; I allowed myself that hour to work out my feelings.

Because sometimes you have to look heartache in the face and acknowledge it and accept it. I couldn't avoid it any more.  I hurt; the thoughts tumbled through my mind...Jason had to leave the next AM on a plane back to Baghdad.  Our family didn't get to heal together.   I hurt whenever I think about how the kids reacted when we told them Rusty died.  I hurt whenever I accidentally call our new puppy (Starbuck) "Rusty."  I feel guilty that I love the new puppy so much and that I love her so easily.  I miss my husband terribly, and we've only got a few weeks to go, but the days drag by so slowly at times.  I don't feel strong all the time; sometimes not at all.  And it just hurts.  All these feelings; they washed over me on that run.  But it was so much better than trying to feel numb like I had the preceding week.  I always tell the kids it's not good to bottle up feelings; why do I so easily allow myself to avoid my own thoughts?

I finished five miles that afternoon.  I don't remember it being difficult or easy; I just remember feeling that I had worked out some things in my mind; I remember feeling good.  The next day I laced up the sneakers again, and this time it wasn't so melancholy.  I hit a fast stride and pounded out a quick three miles.  I took some photos along the way, and enjoyed the trail.  I suppose running for me is the best kind of therapy.  I can use it to work out my feelings or my thoughts; I use it to celebrate, or to mourn.  Sometimes I just run to enjoy the run.  Just me, my music, my sneakers, and my thoughts.

Millcreek Park, somewhere between
1/2 and 1 mile into my 3-mile run.

The most inviting trail.

Beautiful running trail.

Almost to the end.

After I finished my 3 miles.
Awesome feeling.

It's Just Six Weeks

Jason returned to Iraq yesterday.  I dropped him at the airport and it's the first time I managed to do so without sniffling into tears as soon as he walked into the terminal.  To be fair, I always wait until after he's out of the car because that kind of emotional reaction is beyond wrong.  Emotional blackmail.  HE'S the one who has to go to be without his family.  In a foreign unwelcoming country.  Alone.  He knows I get all weepy, but I still make sure not to show him.

It was especially hard to see Jason leave this time.  Or beloved chihuahua, Rusty, was hit by a car in front of our home the day before Jason left.  Jason and I took him to the emergency vet clinic and found his pelvic was fractured in three places.  It was one of the hardest decisions we ever had to make.  He was put to rest by the vet and didn't suffer; I know we made the right choice.  But now we're left with another void. 

Jason found Rusty for our family when out shopping at a sports store when we were assigned in Los Angeles.  There was a local rescue shelter holding a pet fair outside of the store and there he was.  We adopted him within a week. Rusty spent sunny days with us at the dog beach in Long Beach.  He slept so far under the blankets with us that you wondered how he could breathe with feet next to him.  He vigilantly watched the kids while they played outside.  He was territorial but friendly once he knew you were welcome in our home.  He made the long car ride with Jason (while I cruised high above in a plane) from L.A. to Ohio and then to DC with Jason to enjoy some time with him and keep him company while the kids and I stayed in Ohio and he finished up his pre-Iraq training.  And now our sweet family companion is gone.  

It's just six weeks, and we've done 12+ week separations so many times before. But it's wearing thin and I fear these last six weeks will seem like an eternity.  In the past three years, we've really had only 10 months together as a family. We're very ready to get to be a family again.  And while Cairo will certainly be a different venue, it will be the most normal of family togetherness we've had in years.

It's time.  We've been waiting for our first family accompanied overseas assignment for so long.  Cairo was in fact one of our top choices and we really are so excited about it!  We actually have orders and can start planning travel.  We applied for passports - both regular and diplomatic - while Jason was home (Goodbye, $760).  I am in the process of applying and interviewing for a job in Cairo.  I've finished the applications for the kids' school.  And we're awaiting housing assignment, and trying to figure out what to pack in our UAB and HHE.  I'm about to hit Target and stock up on the wipes, diapers, and formula we use.  I know we're lucky - almost everything we need can be purchased locally in Cairo or shipped to our APO box (Love you, amazon.com and target.com!), but I like to be super prepared before we get there. Plus, the shopping and the stocking up and the planning take my mind off Jason's return to Baghdad.

And there it is again.  A reminder that we still have six more weeks until he comes back to us.  Permanently.  So we can start our life together.  Again.

It's just six weeks, right?

Long Beach, Valentine's Day 2010.  Rusty was
such a good companion to Jason.

San Pedro tide pools, New Year's Eve 2009.

You can't see the kiddos in this photo but he was vigilantly
watching over them and their every move.

He was the perfect companion for the kiddos.

The three men I was likely to find
in my bed this past year...

Dating Again

Soon.  Jason's unaccompanied assignment is almost over - the date is set, July 20th!  But, the better most-immediate news?  He's home on Leave (his final Leave!) tomorrow.  Right now he's over there, awaiting transport.  I know how grouchy I was this past weekend with my mere 6-hour travel day from Colorado-to-DC-to-Pittsburgh-to-home for the Army.  I can't even imagine how tough his Baghdad-to-Air Force Base-to-Kuwait-to-DC-to-Pittsburgh-to-home two-day ordeal must be.  Yet, he always comes home excited (but exhausted) and relieved to be home for a bit.  Even though he knows that at the end of his Leave, the two-day travel ordeal is the reverse and without us to meet him at the airport.

Preparations for his arrival home must be made!  Yesterday, I spent two hours at the grocery store stocking up on all the snacks and food he loves but can't get in Baghdad.  The kitchen is ridiculous right now - I bought far more than we will need for the 18 days he's home.  And the cleaning.  I know, Jason could care less.  Yet, I'll spend tonight scrubbing and organizing and getting things just right, so that when he walks in the door it will look naturally clean (as opposed to the "look I just scrubbed the house top-to-bottom!" kind of clean). Like it's always clean (riiight).  It's totally unnecessary, and he knows it's not the norm, but I always do it anyway.

In fact, I'd say the days leading up to his arrival home feel almost like I'm getting ready for a big date. Like we're newly engaged and not married for...nearly 13 years!  Today it was the primping.  Hair highlighted, new cut.  Picked up my new glasses at the optometrist's office.   I've layed out a new outfit and got some new make-up.  Heck, I'll even shave my legs.  Not to mention, I've lived exclusively on TicTacs and lattes the last three days in hopes of dropping those last two stubborn pounds (without success, of course!).

Kids are cleaning their rooms and getting everything in order like I've instructed them.  For them, it's more like Christmas Eve.  Daddy's coming home! They look forward to that as much as opening presents from Santa.  And Daddy always brings home some nice gifties for the kiddies.  They're not going with me to pick him up at the airport this time, because we've planned a vacation to the Laurel Highlands, Pennsylvania that takes them out of school (the last day of school - yup, I'm THAT mom!) for a day.  

I'll stop on the way to the airport for a latte for me and a chai for Jason, and then I'll wait [im]patiently for his arrival.  I can't wait for that moment when he strolls in with the rest of the arriving passengers, and I see him from across the way.  I'll try to look cool and not overly crazy seeing him, but I'll inevitably fail, getting a bit misty-eyed as my heart thumps through my chest loudly; it's really that wonderful seeing him each time he comes home.  Our son, Owen, calls it "icky love stuff".  And he's right, because this is the stuff love is made of.  Good stuff.

The final Leave.  With a promise of all this - the crazy, the unaccompanied assignment, the separation - to be over.  Soon.

No one ever said the primping part
was glamorous...

The final outcome - blonder, shorter,
and new specs.

It's Time to Ask for HELP!

Einstein was right.  Time is relative.  One year in Los Angeles?  I swear it was much shorter than a year.  It flew by.  A year with a hubby in Iraq while I [im]patiently wait it out in Ohio with our munchkins...an eternity.  Except when it comes to getting all the details of planning a new life overseas while said hubby is off in Iraq.  Obviously, I didn't take time into consideration.  I SWEAR it seemed like I had forever to get everything accomplished to get us there.  An entire year has to be more than enough time, right?!?!  I mean, what exactly would I need to do?

Passports.  OOPS.  Kids and I don't have them.  Nope.  No one but Jason has a passport.  Before we left L.A. we had the photos done.  But not the passports.  And it takes both parents to be present to get passports for the kids, unless Jason can send me a notarized statement practically saying I'm competent enough to handle it on my own.  However, by the time the mail would come in from Iraq to Ohio, I would be in Colorado (more on that below).  And then when I'm back form Colorado, Jason would be arriving from Iraq on his final leave (!!) and we could just go and do it together.  So that's where this stands.

Medical Clearance updates.  OOPS.  Apparently Kellen didn't actually exist in the State Department's eyes until I could prove otherwise.  I faxed a copy of his birth certificate and thought that was all that was needed.  Luckily, Jason found out that a medical clearance was also required, and our pediatrician dutifully filled out the required forms for us quickly.  But this lack of knowledge on our part still lost us weeks in getting any sort of travel orders for my husband.  Because until Kellen is added as a dependent we can't do anything.  We're still waiting on this to be accomplished - Kellen officially exists in medical clearance but not as a dependent just yet.

Which means we can't get visas to enter Egypt.  We can't get arrangements made for any pack-out.  We can't get arrangements made to ship our car.  We can't get airline tickets.  We just...can't.  You get the picture.

And then I looked at the Medical Clearances we have for the big kids and for me.  OUTDATED.  Yup. Expired as of April 2011.  OOPS.  

Now, I have to be in Colorado Springs, Colorado at Ft. Carson for my 2-week annual military training the first two weeks of May.  I work as an RN for the US Army Reserves and it's my yearly duty to fulfill.  Honestly, I am looking forward to it.  After a big hiccup in planning (my mom was injured at work, and while she is doing well now, she can't watch the kids for the first week of the two I am gone), childcare has been fully arranged for the two weeks I am gone.  I can't tell you what a planning nightmare that was!  Special thanks to my in-laws for taking the kids for nearly the entire two weeks (I will be buying them some very nice bottles of wine in CO!) and to my friend Suni for taking a couple days to help out as well (the kids love 'Aunt' Suni -- "She always brings us sweets!").  This will be a great assignment for me this year - should be working in the ER at Ft. Carson and I fully intend to sightsee in Colorado Springs on my off time!

But the two week annual training couldn't come at a worse time.  After realizing that I have to get MY medical clearance achieved BEFORE I leave, I will be spending all of Monday getting poked and prodded in some uncomfortable places by multiple MDs.  Luckily, I was able to get the kids taken care of last week.  Poor Abby.  She has a serious phobia of needles and well, even a small finger prick for a hemoglobin sent her over the edge.  The doctor, me, and a nurse had to hold her down.  She screamed and then kicked the pediatrician square in his goods.  MORTIFIED.  Thankfully, he's dealt with kids for 30+ years, so he wasn't shocked.  We managed to get her finger prick done and she actually screamed at us:  "THAT WAS IT!  THAT WAS IT!!??"  Then I took the kids out for ice cream.  And a Starbucks for me.

No matter how I look at this, the overwhelming feeling is that we are drowning trying to plan it all out.  Information is scattered and hard to find.  There are multiple agencies to coordinate our move.  And we aren't yet familiar enough with the the big machine of all this.  I feel especially isolated in Ohio - I mean, I can't just drive to HR at State and get things processed (although, even if I was in D.C., I have no idea how I'd even find it.  Or if I'd find the right one!).  Yes, yes.  It's time to ask for help.

So, after a long email to a fellow spouse who's been through this before, I have been pointed in the right direction(s) to get the above achieved.  She got me the appropriate HR contacts and made a step-by-step how-to for me to follow in getting passports.  Literally.  Step-by-step!  All I had to do was ask for help.  Which, from my past blogging noting that I was going to go childbirth all alone, you'll realize I'm not always so good at.

Stress is definitely taking it's toll on me.  I've had non-stop heartburn for days (thankfully, TUMS are a great way to get calcium, right?!?), my sleep is short and fitful, and I am ingesting far more caffeine than any human body should ever attempt to take on.  I was terribly worried about my mom (again - I reiterate - she is doing well!  I'm just not ready to write about it yet.), fretting about planning my training in Colorado, and getting nowhere on all the things we need to get done for Cairo.  Where did time go?  It seems like it's been FOREVER since Jason left, and yet, I feel like I haven't had enough time to get anything accomplished.

But the stress stops here.  From now on I vow to ask for help every time I need it.  I vow to reach out to those who have experience and knowledge about what's going on when I have none.  And I will vent when I am frustrated!  I will work on things ahead of time (umm...ok, this may be a lifelong challenge for me).  But really.  This new life is crazy and chaotic and I just need help figuring it out!

On a final note.  After a long 12-hour shift at work yesterday (but a great shift), I picked up our little man at 11:30pm and we went home.  Owen and Abby were at the fab in-laws for the night.  Anyway, Kellen fell asleep in his carseat and being the exhausted Momma that I am, I just carried him upstairs in it and let him sleep away the night comfortably snuggled in the carseat.  I collapsed into bed and got a decent six hour stretch of sleep until Kellen woke me.  When I went to change his diaper, which had been changed last at daycare just before I picked him up, I found the funniest thing written on it.  Check out the photo.  The nickname on the diaper reminds me to relax, have fun, and enjoy life.  All this stuff will get figured out somehow (especially if I'm willing to ask for help).  

"Uncle Fester" - what our wonderful daycare
jokingly calls our very VERY bald baby.  Gave me
the best giggle of the morning!

It Never Gets Easier

We're now nine months into the Baghdad separation and well over a year since Jason left for D.C. to complete his training before the trek to Baghdad.  I keep thinking it will get easier.  But it never does.  No matter what happens, no matter how long it's been, no matter...it just doesn't get easier.

Our big guy had baseball practice yesterday.  And as I watched him ride his bike down the street to go to practice, backpack and bat strapped to his back, I thought about how much he needed his dad right then.  Dads are supposed to get to spend time watching and helping their sons learn the game.  It's very much a guy thing.  It's not cool having only your mom tagging along to the practices and games, and that's what Owen has right now.  I talked with the coach about our unique situation - dad's not here but it's not because of a divorce or because he's a deadbeat.  It's that right now his service is needed elsewhere.  Coach gets it, and he really works well with Owen.  But it's not the same.

And our little man.  He's going to be six months next week.  All those months of development and learning and growth.  Jason only got a taste of it - just a glimpse - and then he was gone right after Kellen was born. He got another smidge of a view in February when little man was three months and he was home on leave.  And then he was gone again.  I regularly update my facebook page with pics of our sweet baby for my husband to see his growth, but we know it's not the same.  We do what we have to do to get through it.  But it never gets easier.

Our daughter always seems to be the one who's the strongest.  But nighttime is the toughest for her.  That's when Daddy tucks her in and sings her a favorite song.  Mommy tuck-ins just don't cut it.  All of her stuffed animals are from Daddy, and she makes a special little blanket spread for her 'daddy leopard' and 'baby leopard' that he got for her at the San Diego Zoo.  Kids really do show their emotions if you watch very closely.  Abby kisses those animals good night and snuggles down under her comforter after every one of her stuffed animal treasures is also tucked in.

It's not that I can't do this.  Like I've said before, if there's anything I've learned from this experience, it's that I am strong enough to get through this.  But some days are harder than others, and lately they've honestly been harder.  Especially at night.  When the house is quiet and everyone else is asleep and I'm desperately trying to get to sleep myself.  It's lonely and I've missed out on sharing those special moments throughout the day with my hubby - the inside jokes, the special knowing smiles when the kids do something outlandish or amazing, the hugs, the kisses, the deep conversations.  We've made such an amazing life together and it feels like a good bit of it has been on hold for the past year.  I still do all the things I love to do - run, work, hit my favorite Starbucks, catch-up with friends, love my kids.  But there's a void with Jason gone and nothing fills it, even at my happiest of moments.

I know why we do this, and I DO love the life we've chosen. This year of separation is part of the requirement, and we knew it coming into the foreign service.  Jason's assignment in Baghdad teaches the kids about the big picture - Duty, Honor, Service, Loyalty, Sacrifice.  What better example of a father could they have?  We live by what we teach.  But there is no denying that it is hard.  And like I said, it just never gets easier.

My husband has a motto he lives by, and I alway keep it in the back of my mind, especially during the most trying of moments.  "Nothing worth doing is ever easy."