Fort Hood

I was driving home on Thursday, listening to my daughter tell stories about daycare. I had the radio on quietly. Suddenly I heard a news story about soldiers. I turned up the radio and time froze. An attack on a military base, in the US? I couldn't think straight.

At home I stood in front of the TV, trying to understand what they were reporting. I went through all the soldiers and wives I know and tried to think if any had a connection to Fort Hood. I would have been glued to the television all night had my daughter not interrupted my trance. She walked in front of the TV and then hugged my legs and said, "I love you, too Mommy."

I turned off the TV, but the story stayed with me. I thought about the two times my husband has gone through SRP. I don't know what that stands for, but I know its military talk for, "hours and even days of waiting around and getting everything in order to deploy". I know for young soldiers it can be exhilarating and terrifying and even boring. Hours of waiting for dental appointments and eye exams and appointments with legal representatives and lots of paperwork. Then paperwork gets lost or filled out wrong, so it needs to be done again. Then there is the completion of the will. Everyone is probably nervous and scared, but trying not to show it. For families, this time that our soldiers are at SRP means that deployment is imminent. Couples have started the emotional pull apart in an effort to desensitize and gather strength for the send off and deployment.

So, when I hear that the Fort Hood shooting occurred during an SRP I can't help but picture the room full of young men and women ready to serve our country. They think they are summoning strength and courage for a deployment away from their families. They are bored of sitting in that room. They are counting down the minutes until they can relax and see their families again or make a phone call or have a cigarette or even board that plane and just get this thing started. Some of them are observing the ridiculous disorganization of military ways. Some of them are perfecting their, "hurry up and wait" skills. Wives are at home overwhelmed with the idea that soon their husbands will deploy. They are mad at themselves for the annoyance that they feel towards their husbands. He's already distant. He's already handed over too much responsibility on the home front. They wonder how they'll do it. They are wishing they could treasure the last few moments but they can't stop crying or yelling or pretending to be helpful and supportive.

Then tragedy strikes. The emotional challenge that everyone was gearing up for would have been so much easier. Easier to cope with. Easier to understand. Easier to recover from.

It's not my story, yet I can't get it out of my head.

By Friday I found out that I had overlooked someone. I have a connection to one of the victims. He is a graduate from the school I teach at. I remember hearing he had joined the military and was stationed at Fort Hood. I didn't know him, but his brother is in the classroom across the hall from me. His wife graduated from our school, too. She just moved to Fort Hood with their children.

It's still not my story, yet I can't get it out of my head. This has nothing to do with fear that it could be me and my family. It has everything to do with sadness that it happened at all.

My thoughts and prayers are with the victims and their families. May they someday feel peace again.

You know your husband is deployed if ...

...your toddler leaves a video message for Daddy about her latest potty training accomplishments.

...you wake up in the middle of the night because your computer is making noises that could be incoming chat messages, but are really automatic updates.

...your toddler sees soldiers in uniform and says "That is my Daddy."

...the dog barks for 20 minutes at bunnies, but you let him because you want him to continue scaring away anything or anyone that's outside the house.

...your toddler changes the song "Three Blind Mice" to "Three Blind Camels" (She REALLY did this. Those were the only 3 words in her whole song, but she sang them over and over!)

Don't catch it

Sometimes deployment just sucks and there isn't a positive spin. For the sake of honesty I'd like to write about that tonight. I haven't blogged in awhile and thought maybe I should wait until the funk passes. But why? Its not truthful when I ALWAYS give my posts a silver lining, a happy ending, or a funny twist.

Sometimes the distance feels greater. Sometimes the communication is nonexistent. Sometimes the everyday stresses feel more stressful. Sometimes life feels darker. Sometimes there is a strange kind of joy found in the unhappiness. It happens.

I've learned this mood can be contagious. Just look on Facebook and you can track the general mood of the day. Lots of people complaining about the weather, feeling sick, being overwhelmed lately. Or is that just my interpretation? Could be. Unhappiness finds unhappiness.

Time to attack the infection one pathetic thought at a time. Time to fight off the depression. But I really don't want to. Why does the nature of depression make us hold on so tightly to the misery? Why do our minds sabotage us into staying depressed?

My Orders Arrived

The smell became overwhelming. Every time I walked into my house I smelled them. I didn't actually notice the stench anywhere else in the house, just the entryway. Friends thought wet basement. Parents thought stinky garage smell seeping in. I knew. The mice were back and they were living in the crawl space below the entry way. Once you've smelled them you don't forget. The deployment curse strikes again and this time it cannot be ignored.

My parents unscrewed the plywood wall my husband had put up between the closet and crawl space. Whew! Knocked over by the smell. Yup. Mice. My dad saw seeds stockpiled for winter. I saw droppings from their months of late night parties. The crawl space used to have standing water, but my husband fixed the leaks. Now it is a dry, warm party room for a colony of mice. They had gone undisturbed for many months. I hadn't heard them or seen them. They stayed out of my sight. The plywood wall worked so well they hadn't even traveled out into the closet. But then the smell hit and gave them away.

I called the exterminator. He came today and I signed a 3 month insurance plan. Usually its a one time visit and then return visits only if needed. He'll be back.

He looked into the crawl space a little more thoroughly than my parents and I did the other night. He stepped back in amazement. Then he took pictures to show the other exterminators. Seriously. Pictures of the scene might be posted on their website. You know its bad when the experts are taken aback.

He set many snap and glue traps. I vacuumed out the whole crawl space. Then I bleached my vacuum. I am ready for the battle. Or so I thought.

Tonight I returned home to find a mouse in one of the traps in the garage (yup they're in there too). It was still alive and struggling to get out. Not the image I needed to start this battle. Now I'm feeling sorry for them. I wish they could read an eviction notice or peacefully agree to my terms (move out and you don't have to die). I don't want to be a soldier. I hate deployment.

Through the Eyes of an Elementary Student

I told my class about my husband's deployment today.

Their first questions:

What's deployment?

When will he be back?

What would happen is he said he didn't want to go? (I explained he can't say that)

What would happen if he quit? (Again I explained quitting isn't an option)

Yeah but, what would the consequences be if he DID quit?

How long has he been in the army?

All questions that have gone through my head at some point.

Their next questions were uniquely kid questions:

Does he have to shave his head?

What if there was a girl in the army would she have to shave her head?

Does he fight people? (From a child with a sparkle in his eyes who waited to ask the question until I walked past him. He knew he shouldn't say it in front of the class, but he just had to ask.)

How long does college take? (From a kid who is easily distracted. Not sure what path his brain took to get here.)

One more thing to add to the lesson plans. Accurate information about soldiers with some more Q & A time. And I guess I should talk about college too.

Small Stuff

Yikes! Its been a long time since I posted anything. I'm adjusting to being back at work full time and I'm trying to find time for things like blogging and sleeping. Here's something I wrote at least a week ago and then forgot to post.

It's the small things people do that give me the energy to keep going. My friend that comes over every Thursday night. We make dinner together and she hangs out with me and my daughter. One night when my 2 year old was trying out underwear and peed all over the kitchen floor, this friend cleaned it up. Another friend leaves me cheery messages on my work phone. She remembers all the important or stressful days in my life and finds a way to help start those days out right. Sometimes her voice mails are the first adult voice I've heard all morning. Or my fellow Army Wife friend who announces she's coming over on a Friday night to watch movies and sleep on my couch. My family who makes me food, brings it to me, walks my dog, and hears me out. Or another Army Wife friend who hung out with me while I cooked and cleaned. Its nice to have company without expectations. I can be me. Stressed out, over worked, legs unshaven, house a mess, too tired to have intelligent conversations, can we sit together and stare at the TV?, if Jason calls I'm temporarily ditching you. Thanks everybody!


I believe that God gives us the people we need to get through hard times. I'm pretty sure that any future kids will be way more difficult than my first born. She's normally pretty easy and cute. She talks nearly as much as I do because I'd be so lonely without that. Between the two of us there is rarely any silence.

Thank God for the people in my life. All of them.

Sunday Morning Breakfast

Lizzie and I are eating a leisurely Sunday morning breakfast. when the computer starts ringing. “Daddy!” I nearly knocked over the table trying to click “accept” before the ringing stops. All the while Lizzie is demanding, ”Push me over”. I push her high chair over and pull up a chair for myself just as his face appears on the screen. We haven’t seen him or talked to him in nearly a week. Lizzie is full of stories. “We saw a mouse going in a hole.” “Look at my muffin!” “I can turn on the light in the bathroom” “I’m a big girl”. He carefully listens and enthusiastically responds to her stories. Sometimes I have to serve as interpreter and explain what her story is about or repeat his questions so she can hear them. She sings parts of songs. Her excitement takes up so much room I can’t get my face into the view of the webcam. I just shout my thoughts or explanations from the sideline.

Between stories, Lizzie finishes breakfast and wants to get down. I clean her up and let her out of her high chair. She plays peek-a-boo with Daddy on my chair. Actually she demands that I move out of the chair, but we compromise and share the space. She still thinks people can’t see her when her eyes are covered. So she covers her eyes with her sippy cup and then peeks over it. As he acts surprised she giggles and does it again. She is also giving me orders, “Mommy, say ‘where’s Lizzie?”

Eventually she gets down and wanders off to do other things. Her short attention span works well because then we get a chance to talk. Soon, she’s back in the living room, out of view of the camera, but hiding from Daddy. He asks, “Where’s Lizzie?...Is she on the couch?” I have to answer, “No, she's not on the couch”. He keeps guessing and finally figures it out. I remove the camera from its mount on the computer and pull the cord as far as it will reach so he can see her crawling out of the hiding spot he has discovered. She is giggling again. Then she finds other things to do and we continue talking.

Eventually I have to call Lizzie back over to the computer. “Daddy has to go now, say goodbye.“ She’s in the middle of “changing” her own diaper (she knows I’m busy and not paying enough attention). She waddles down with her pants around her ankles, but diaper still intact- thank goodness! She climbs up on the chair and starts waving her arms around like she’s conducting a world renown orchestra. These are gestures reserved for talks with Daddy. As she waves her arms she yells, “bye Daddy! bye Daddy! bye Daddy! I love you too!”