This is a Test.

I feel like I am being tested. We are currently at the end of our first week of the first (and only) sea duty that Dave will experience before he separates from the Navy in November 2012. Tomorrow Dave has to work. He will be working 6 days (or more) per week until he leaves on deployment. I knew that this was what sea duty would be like, but the reality of it is depressing.

It depresses me that I won't have "back-up" two days per week. It depresses me that my husband is going to miss out on all of the fun we try and have on the weekends. It makes me sad for all of us. I love him, I want him to be home. Eventually, I won't even get a few hours in the evening and two days per week, he will be gone. He will be completely gone for a long time, he will miss birthdays, holidays, and milestones. Our youngest son may not even really know him when he returns.

I should be grateful. I should be happy that we have a steady income, a roof over our heads, food in our bellies, and an all-around nice life. I am grateful for those things. I just wish that they came with a husband who got to enjoy them too (and I wouldn't mind a better paycheck for all of his hard work, either). It's weighed on me heavily that lately I have seen my adult friends and Facebook acquaintances saying that they sleep til noon and "struggle" to find ways to entertain themselves all day.

I ask myself, "are these people kidding??" We struggle from paycheck to paycheck to make it. My husband's heart is absolutely broken at the thought of missing Puff's first birthday. It must be nice to do nothing and get paid for it. I wish that we could sleep til noon and wake up and go and play at the park as a family.

It's even worse on days like today. I fought with my three-year-old for most of the day. We had a forty minute fight over an apple and the apple is still on my table, turning brown. My dog threw up seven times on the way to the dog park. I had to miss out on a picnic for my husband's new command that I really wanted to go to because he couldn't leave work for a work function.

Today was not a barrel of laughs and I think that I have more of these days headed my direction. On days like today, I have to remind myself that this is a test. This is only a test. I have a habit of dominating tests. I wreck them and make them my own. I will do the same with this test. I can handle anything that the Navy gives me. My husband is my favorite person on this planet, and deployment will only make us stronger. Perhaps some people will be better rested, but they certainly aren't building character. I have what I have because I can pass these tests.

Happiness, Hear it Comin', Like a Train on a Track...

Today is thankful Thursday and I decided to do a morning post instead of an evening post because it's only 9:15 a.m. and I already have SO much that I am thankful for, that I wanted to document it.

First, I am BEYOND thankful that Puff slept eight whole hours in his crib last night. I have been a little under the weather and I really needed that full night of sleep.




Second, I am proud and thankful that my husband is on his way home to change into his dress whites because the water is off for the day and I wouldn't have been able to have coffee without him coming home.




Also, I am thankful that my husband is nominated for PC of the Wing (which is why he is coming home to change). I am so grateful that he has a job that he excels at and enjoys. He performed so well in his job the last couple of years that he got a lot of acknowledgment for it. I am thankful that there are others out there who recognize how amazing he is.



Finally, I am SO grateful for my friend Sarah. She comes over a lot and keeps me company. She works out with me, eats with me, and is just all around awesome. In the Navy world, it can be kind of challenging to find friends. You meet some awesome people, but also some not so awesome ones. It's hard to find that "good fit" in friendship and I feel like I have found it with her. That is something for which I am exceptionally grateful.

Angry, Lonely, and Drunk.

I was watching Celebrity Rehab with Dr. Drew just now (I love Dr. Drew, I wish he was single and I was his type) and someone on the show was talking and said, "if we don't, we will be angry, lonely, and drunk." It made me think of my mom, right away. I love my mom, and my mom is nowhere near the person she was a decade and a half ago. She has come a long way, but she was angry, lonely, and drunk for a long time.

It made me wonder about something that I often wonder. I wonder if I could have helped my mom with her anger and loneliness and if that would have led to her not being drunk as much. The rational, healthy part of me knows that this is not the case. My mom was my mom because she is my mom, period. Her drinking and drug use was not my fault and never will be. Then my train of thought kept on rolling and I went a different direction.

I began to wonder if my mom thought that motherhood would ease her loneliness. If she did, what would make her think that having a baby would accomplish that? Did having a baby who was a baby (and therefore not good company) make her feel more angry and lonely, and drive her to get more drunk? My answer? Probably. And then I started thinking even more and wondered how many other people that I know have unreasonable expectations of their children.

How many of us think that our kids are meant to be our companions? How many people think, "this kid is going to be my best friend," and how many people think that their kids will be their eternal companions? Probably a lot of us. It's something that I have to talk to myself about. I want to raise little people who will love their lives, who will grow to be successful, wonderful adults. In order for my kids to do so, they are going to have to leave me. My kids are going to live off of me for eighteen years, and then they will strike out on their own. If they do this, I will have been successful as a parent.

That is kind of hard to swallow, as a mom. Especially as the mom of an infant. I can't imagine my sweet, squishy baby leaving me. I cannot imagine not being the one who illicits the most brilliant smile from him. But the fact is that some day, he will leave. Someday, he will not really care about what I have to say. Someday, he will be a man and that man will not be my responsibility. And that is the way that it should be.

Ultimately, that is where my train of thought led me. My train of thought led me to where I decided that I don't want to be angry, lonely, and drunk. I want to have reasonable expectations for my kids. I want to encourage them to grow and do great things. My greatest success will likely be tinged with heartbreak, because my kids will leave me in their dust. But is that not the way that many great successes work? That's parenthood. Parenthood hurts a little from time to time, if you do it well.

Gratitude.

The friend with whom I run when I run with another human started a blog about gratitude. It can be found here. Today she "featured" me on her blog and I was beyond flattered. I was flattered for two reasons:

1. being blogged about makes me feel edgy and cool.
2. being blogged about as something that is a positive in some one's life makes me feel like I am doing something right.

Before my big, blog debut my friend asked me if she could use one of my pictures and I told her that she could. I also expressed to her that I loved the idea of a blog that was all about gratitude. It was at that point that she told me that stealing her idea was totally legit.

Unfortunately for you, dearest readers (all 1 of you), I have decided NOT to steal her idea. I have, however, decided to give it a place on my blog. I will be doing a gratitude blog at least once per week.

I think that it is obvious that I am grateful for certain things in my life. I am grateful for losing weight, running, and my family and I say it a lot. The fact is that those things are at the top of my list, but I have so, infinitely much more to be grateful for.

Today I am grateful for:
1. Camp- which gives me a 3 hour break from my three year old, three times per week.
2. Beer- which is delicious and an indulgence that I think that I deserve.
3. Cake Batter Pancakes- which I will eat tomorrow and NOT feel guilty about, because I deserve them and I ran 6 miles today, AND I will be carb loading for a race on Saturday.
4. Friends- who motivate me to go out and do things I would normally shy away from (Brooks) and who hang out with me despite my weirdness (all the rest of you).
5. Distance- which separates me from things that I need to be separated from. Being isolated has its perks from time to time.

What are you grateful for?

Bliss.

Bliss is only having one pair of pants that fit, because all of the rest are too big.

Bliss is waking up next to a milky baby, with a half smile on his face.

Bliss is Dave.

Bliss is the memory of my Papa on what would have been his 78th birthday.

Bliss is being able to run 6 miles, at a decent pace.

Bliss is the sound of a tantrum occurring downstairs.

Bliss is not feeling guilty about eating a slice of cake.

Bliss is pumping 4 ounces after a feeding.

Bliss is feeling beautiful.

Bliss is the thought of seeing my mom in a couple of weeks.

Bliss is inhaling when I hug my grandma.

Bliss is the thought of a meeting with my father, who I haven't seen in almost a decade.

My life is blissful. I am blessed beyond measure.

A Run with a Friend.

The day before yesterday, I ran with a friend.
We kept a good pace. We talked the whole time.
We ran on grass, we ran on pavement.
We ran past the body of a small bird.

We talked about people, places, and things.
We talked about our pace,
We talked about our route,
We spoke of God and Faith.

There were lots of trees,
More than a few cars passed us by,
The people in one yelled something out the window.
We couldn't hear them.
We were too busy, conquering and talking.

We both had on headphones,
But I know that I didn't use mine.
She sweats less than I do and
I think she runs with more grace,
But she still wants to run with me.

We finished our run
and we realized
we had gone farther than we thought.
We beat the roads and the trails and the cars.
We beat our goals.
I'm very lucky to have run with a friend.

Regarding the Ownership of Lefty and Righty.

There are very few things in this world that are all mine. I have to share pretty much everything, and that is even more true now that I am a mom. Nothing is my own, everything is ours. I spent a long time thoroughly convinced that my breasts were my own. They are, after all, attached to my body. Three and a half years ago, when Archer was born, I found out that I was wrong.

My breasts belonged to him for twenty six months. He pulled them, pushed them, pinched them, laid on them, held them, snuggled them, and made basically every decision regarding my breasts. He decided if and when they should be whipped out in public for a feeding. He decided the duration of their exposure. The only thing he didn't decide was to name them Lefty and Righty, but that's only because he didn't know how to talk. There is nothing in the world that Archer loved as much as he loved Lefty and Righty. For twenty six long months, he knew that he could count on them to help him out if he was hungry, thirsty, tired, hurt, sick, crabby, or just plain lonely.

Then, as he got older, he fell in love with our dog and began to make friends who were people, rather than breasts. He started seeing less and less of Lefty and Righty. Eventually, he decided to forfeit ownership completely. I was thrilled. After twenty six beautiful months of breastfeeding, I was ecstatic to have my body to myself again. I figured that I would really enjoy actually owning myself for a little while. Imagine my surprise when a mere two weeks after Archer fully weaned, two little pink lines populated a screen in my bathroom.


Once again, I had to forfeit ownership of myself. I knew by then, that I would not regain my body after forty weeks, sure I would have my uterus back, but Lefty and Righty would not be returned to me until the new little fetus decided that he or she was done with them. I also knew that Lefty and Righty were a little bit concerned about being used and then discarded. They hadn't weathered the storm too well the last time. But, they were also excited to have a new little friend that they could count on.

Forty-one weeks later, along came Olwyn. My brown eyed baby boy immediately loved his new friends. He's been with us for six months and he has spent the vast majority of his time building a relationship with Lefty and Righty. He is not even remotely shy about asserting his ownership of his favorite duo. He pinches, pulls, hugs, loves, and cares about his boobies. They are 100% his, and he always likes to be within range of them in case he needs a snack. Lefty and Righty bring him comfort when disaster strikes (getting stepped on by a two legged or four legged sibling is the most common calamity) and they fill his belly morning, noon, and night. He knows that he can always count on the contents to be both nourishing and refreshing.

As for me, I have surrendered. I know that Lefty and Righty were never truly meant to be mine. They were always destined for greater things than a casual relationship with the woman whose chest they call home. If I love Lefty and Righty, I will let them achieve their destiny. They're in their prime now, livin' the dream.