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."

Pinkeye, Poop, and Puking...OH MY!

You'd never think six ounces of puke could cover an entire baby and adult...until it's projectile vomited on you.  But that was this morning, and there were so many other nasty body fluids to remember from this past week.  Here's a week in review for this Momma who desperately needs a shower.

How could so much poop and puke
come out of someone so little?

Monday morning, Kellen awoke angry, pulling on his ears, and with a low-grade temp.  I knew it had to be an ear infection.  I just didn't anticipate it being a DOUBLE ear infection.  A few hours later, we had visited the pediatrician and I was at Target getting his antibiotic filled at the pharmacy.  Kellen was asleep in his stroller and I was able to meet up with a friend for a quick lunch before heading home.  She said "you know it will give him diarrhea" - this turned out to be an understatement.  Kellen had the green-apple squirts from nearly the first moment his lips touched the pink pasty gooey medicine.

And it leaked through every diaper I strapped to his bum. I texted friends begging for advice on diapers.  My older ones are eight and six and so it's just been years of missing out on diaper development and improvement. I tried the Pampers Cruisers.  I should have just wrapped his booty in a few dollar bills for as well as they worked.  Money down the drain.  And the laundry!  It was never-ending.  And the sounds.  The explosions erupting from his derriere were like cannons.  He tolerated it well.  I did not.  But luckily by Wednesday it had started to subside and I had also found a diaper that could withstand the attacks.

Poop-Eye.

However, by Wednesday afternoon, my left eye was suspiciously leaking fluid and was reddened.  I convinced myself it was a corneal laceration, probably from accidentally brushing makeup into it.  On Thursday I awoke and it was redder and more swollen and more leaky.  I went to a training at work to get my ACLS (Advanced Cardiac Life Support) re-certified.  Everyone there saw my eye and avoided me like the plague.  I managed to squeak up to the ER and have one of the docs look at me before I had to leave to get the baby from daycare and he told me it was pinkeye.  Oh, the dreaded pinkeye!  The type of nasty disease you pass from one to another so easily.  My husband calls it poop-eye.  One bottle of eyedrops later and I was picking up the baby.

 I got home and all but incinerated every towel in the house (a huge transmitter of pinkeye - using someone else's towel, which the kids do all the time).  I threw away all my eye makeup.  I used the drops like a madwoman.

By Saturday my eye was better.  And (I hate to even write this, because it may be too soon to do a victory dance)...not one of the kids got the poop-eye.

Saturday afternoon Abby told me her tummy hurt. I got her some Pepto Kids and gave her a dose.  Along with some Sprite for the yucky tummy.  About 30 minutes later I heard "Mommy I still don't feel so good", followed by heaving and the dreaded puke sound.  In the living room.  She hit the ottoman and the floor.  Not the couch.  Good girl.  She ran to the sink and made it to bring up the rest of the pink and chunky goo.  She had a fever.  I had Zofran on hand and just one dose kept her from puking any more that night. She was able to tolerate a few tylenol tabs and I congratulated myself for being such a good mommy nurse (a rarity).

Distinctive Robin Egg Blue Box.
Gorgeous Tiffany Crystal.
Only party it will ever see
is in the garbage can.

And then...I was in the basement tackling yet more laundry.  I noticed some bubble wrap on the floor.  Actually a lot of bubble wrap.  Owen was down there and I asked him about it.  He said he and his friend Danny had found it in the blue box on the shelf. My heart sank.  Blue box...as in Robin Egg Blue Tiffany's Box...with my gorgeous crystal bowl in it.  I opened it, praying for a miracle.  The bowl is no longer a bowl.  It's worthless shattered crystal.  I have so few adult treasures, and this was one of them.  I  had never used it.  I had planned to bring it out when we moved overseas and (I know this is just dreaming, but it was a fun dream) hosted a fun party.  It was an item I had saved for entertaining, and now it will never be used.  Crushed.  My silly little dream was crushed just like that.  Owen felt bad and I wasn't mad at him (no kid can resist bubble wrap - I'll give him that), but it was painful.

I took some laundry upstairs and then....stepped in dog poop.  At the top of the stairs, our chihuahua had left me an unwelcome gift.  I nearly had a meltdown.  Thankfully, it was on the hardwood and an easy clean (he is a little dog, so it's just a little poo), but the timing was terrible.  It was all I could do to get the kids into bed.  We called Jason and he gave them Daddy tuck-ins over the phone.  They fell right to sleep.  I went downstairs to drown my sorrows in chocolate, and there was none to be found.  Just one single little 60-caloried chocolate-flavored Jello Mousse cup.  Sad.  I had hoped to find a lone Hershey's Kiss or a Peanut Butter Cup in the  freezer.  But no.  I got a sugar-free jello. 

And getting to this morning.  Ragged after the week that was.  Kellen woke up early (6AM) and I fed him.  He was overly excited to eat and downed the bottle way too fast.  I saw it coming, heard it coming, and all I could do was hold him while he heaved nearly six ounces all over himself and me.  I wiped him up, changed his jammies and tucked him into the [miracle] swing. I changed my clothes, and crawled under a cozy blanket on the couch for an extra few zzz's.  

Now the kids are up, and I can smell the baby vomit on myself.  I'm going for a shower.  My pinkeye is all but gone, Abby is feeling better, Rusty (our chihuahua) is doing his business OUTSIDE, and Kellen is still blissfully asleep in the swing.  

But that beautiful bowl is still broken.

Two Dozen Crickets...Unaccounted For

Yesterday, I went to the pet store to purchase LIVE crickets for Owen's lizard and two frogs.  They ONLY eat live crickets.  Nasty.  Disgusting.  Repulsive.  This is actually a weekly purchase.  Owen gives me $1.00 of his meager weekly $8.00 allowance and I purchase $3.30 of live crickets.  We wanted him to be at least partially accountable for the crickets, so we set up this system last summer when we purchased the lizard and frogs.  He's since asked for another lizard and frog; we told him it would be an additional $1.00 per week for the additional crickets.  He balked at this idea.  Whew.

Lucas the Lizard.  I like him best.

Anyway, I purchased 30 (actually 34) LIVE crickets yesterday.  After being hit-on by the oh-so-young (and frankly out of his league) cricket keeper at the pet store (He actually used the line - "I gave you 34 but only charged you for 30, so now you'll have to be my friend.  How old is your son because you don't look like you could be any older than me!" [19ish???]), I quickly paid for the crickets and left the store.  I met a friend at the mall, but couldn't leave the crickets in the car while I shopped because it was 30 degrees outside.  Crickets die in this weather - trust me, it's happened.  So, I had to carry the little buggers all through the mall while shopping.  Imagine how chic I felt pulling the bag of crickets out of my purse to get to my wallet...

Jail-Breaker point of exit.

When I got home, I went to the basement and emptied the crickets into their habitat.  And was unhappy to find it was broken.  One of covers on the long tubes was broken off.  I found the broken piece and placed it over the end, making a mental note that I needed to secure it with duct tape later.  Haha.  Right.  I didn't even give that a second thought.  I had more shopping to do that day and a birthday party to finish planning for the next day.

So here I am.  It's now day two since I purchased the 34 crickets.  I went to feed the pets tonight and was NOT HAPPY to find the cover gone.  And nearly all of the crickets gone.  Hasta la bye-bye.  Missing.  Not even a chirp in the basement to be heard.  No skittering of little cricket legs.

I did a quick count:

Two never made it.

34 initial crickets

6 fed to pets yesterday

2 dead on the bottom of the habitat

2 in the other long tube (The idiots!  Now fed to the lizard.  I like him best.)

That leaves two dozen missing crickets.  I scanned the bottom of the frog cage thinking Owen had fed them to the frogs (he likes the frogs best).  No dice.  Not a single living, moving cricket.  Just two sets of giant hungry frog eyes staring at me.

He claims he has no clue where they went...

I went upstairs and asked Owen if he had noticed the cricket habitat was broken.  He had.  But he didn't know what happened to the other two dozen remaining crickets...

It's a mystery.  With any luck it will remain such.  And here's hoping they don't figure out how to breed!