Homecoming King

Before I had kids and became a stay at home mom, I worked as the marketing assistant for the Everett Mall. 

It was pretty much the coolest job you could possibly imagine. 

Most of my days were spent laughing with coworkers, writing, eating Mexican food from the food ourt and taking the occasional break to "walk the mall", AKA going shopping, because, did I mention I worked at a mall??

I could write an entire post about all the fun things I got to do in that position, but one very cool thing we did as the management office was go to Navy Homecomings. 

The mall was very involved in the local community, and we enjoyed working with the Navy base. So whenever a ship would come back from deployment we would set up a booth on the pier and hand out trinkets to the kids and coupons to the spouses as they all waited for their loved ones to disembark.

I loved going to the homecomings, you could feel the excitment in the air, and there was nothing sweeter than seeing husbands, wives, daddies and children reunited after months apart. I thought homecomings were great, I got to enjoy the fun celebratory day of everyone coming home, without having to experience any of the loneliness or challenges of the several months prior that they had all been separated.

I met Richard at one of these homecomings. He had just been assigned to his ship, and was waiting to board it on the pier, when we struck up a conversation.

In college I dated a guy who was in the Army, and for 13 of the 16 months we were dating, he was stationed in Iraq. To put it simply, it sucked. After that, I swore I would never date, much less marry a guy who was in the military; I just didn't want to live that life of deployments and separations. 

When I met Richard though, I fell hard and fast, and my "no military" rule went right out the window.

Now we are closing in on the end of our second deployment together, although this is the longest we have ever been apart.

During our first deployment he got to come home after four months on emergency leave since I was in premature labor with Ryan. He had to go back to the ship afterward, but not for long. By the time the ship came in on homecoming day, it had only been a month since I'd seen Richard last.

This is the first full six month deployment we have done, and I am so excited about his return that I sometimes feel like I could jump out of my skin. I am nervous though too, it's been nearly six months since I've seen my husband and the butterflies in my stomach are going crazy.

No matter what though, no matter the weather, or if Richard is the last person to disembark the ship, this homecoming is ours.

I can't wait.

Photo courtesy of Google Images.

Free Fall

Last week I had my first essay published at The Smartly.

And, because I am completely insane, I started off with an opinion piece.

I kind of doubted that they would even post it, and then, when it was posted so quickly - wow.

I was terrified.

All the sudden my head was pounding, my stomach was tight, I was breathing faster.

Did I really want this?

I read over it a few times. 

No. No, nothing is right. I need to revise. OMG! How could I have thought this was a finished piece of writing?!

I took a few deep breaths. It didn't help.

I took an Advil. It helped a little. 

I took the boys to McDonald's and snuck a couple of their fries. That helped a lot.

All my life I have wanted to be published, and this is such an awesome start for me; I was so looking forward to it happening. But, I didn't realize what it would feel like.

Jumping off a cliff.

No parachute.

No safety net. 

Just me, and my words. And everyone's judgment.

Some will love me. Some will hate me.

This is the risk.

And...I think I am willing to take that risk again. And again.

Flashback Friday - Recent Halloweens

I've always been a fan of Halloween. 

Sure, the candy is delicious, but my favorite part is getting to dress up every year. I was usually something predictable, like a pumpkin or a witch or a cat, although one year I was a Christmas Tree, and that was pretty rad. 

It was just so much fun trying to find the perfect costume, and then getting all the accessories for it, like face make up, creepy stick-on fingernails, vampire teeth, wigs, etc.

I was pretty bummed when my mom put the kibosh on trick-or-treating when I was 13. She told me I was too old and that people would be scared to have a teenager come to their door, and they'd all probably assume I was about to egg their house or something. So, from 13 to 18, Halloween really wasn't anything special. 

Once I went to college it got fun again, there was always an annual dance, haunted house and some sort of Halloween party going on. AND we got to wear costumes again. We were basically a bunch of over-sized kids getting to live out our Halloween fantasies one last time. 

Not to mention, since we could drive and had our own money, we didn't have to wait to go trick-or-treating, we could just go to the grocery store and buy as much Halloween candy as we wanted until we passed out from a sugar coma.

Once I had kids, and I had to be more budget-conscious, I realized that I should pretty much just spend our money on costumes for the boys, despite the fact that I really wanted to get in on the fun of dressing up with them.

When I was single and didn't have to spend my money on diapers and milk and chicken McNuggets, I wouldn't have given a second thought to paying $60 or more for a Halloween costume. Things are different though now, and considering that the boys will wear their costumes for probably two hours tops, it just isn't fiscally responsible of me to spend that kind of money on any of us.

Fiscally? Did I really just write that? I think I've seen one too many political ads lately.

Anyhow, so for Jacob's first Halloween I just dressed him up as a pumpkin. Richard was on deployment, and I was pregnant, so I wouldn't have fit into a costume anyway. 

But last year? Last year was truly inspired.

 I actually got the idea for it in February 2009, and then ordered the costumes in August. I was so excited.

Sure, it took a little bribing (and maybe a little whiskey), in order to get my husband to play along, but I absolutely adore this photo of us.

So now I am struggling to decide what I will be this year. The boys' costumes have already been decided, and I would like to get in on the fun, but at very little cost.

Here is what I am thinking:

I could be Snooki, because she is culturally relevant right now, and I definitely have enough hair to copy her 'do, and then I just need to throw on like a pound of bronzer.

*Photo courtesy of Google Images.

Or!

I am also considering going as Bella Swan from the Twilight series. I already have the brown hair and eyes, and I live in Washington. So really, all I would need to complete the costume is a "Team Edward" shirt, and then walk around  all pouty and angsty like emo Kristen Stuart.

*Photo courtesy of Google Images.

 What do you guys think? Which one would you vote for? 

Or do you have a totally different suggestion for me?


UPDATED:

Jonesin' for more of my thoughts? Check out my post over at http://thesmartly.com/ today!

Online Dating

With our anniversary earlier this week, I found myself thinking about the road that got us to this point, and how my life truly did change in that instant when I met Richard. 

We talk about it often, and it still amazes us both how many things had to go exactly right in order for us to meet in the moment that we did. I think it was just meant to be.

Sometimes though, I wonder what my life would be like if I had never met and married Richard. I'm pretty sure I'd still be single. Living in my parents' basement, probably with five cats by this time, and watching romantic comedies every Saturday night before crying myself to sleep.

What?

I'm just guessing.

I'm thankful that I met my husband, because I honestly have no idea where you're supposed to meet your spouse once you get out of college.

In 2006 I decided to try my luck at online dating. The first site I used was eHarmony. Most of the guys matched up with me were older, uptight, without a sense of humor. I have no idea how we got matched because I love to laugh and I get so uncomfortable when I am having a conversation with someone who all but refuses to laugh or even crack a smile.

I went on one date with this red-headed guy who barely made eye contact with me the whole time, he was so shy. I remember thinking how ridiculous it was that my mom made me give her his full name and where we were going on our date in case I wound up missing or dead. Clearly, this guy couldn't even hold a conversation with me, I seriously doubted his ability to hold a murder weapon.

Another time, I went to dinner with a guy who was obsesssed - OBSESSED - with Mariners baseball. They're not even a good team! I mean, I root for the M's, cause I got hometown pride, but seriously dude, they're not a good team. Anyway, so after he had chatted about the Mariners for an hour, he was trying to describe himself to me and this is what he said:


Guy: You know that movie, 40 Year Old Virgin?


Me: Yes...


Guy: And you know that scene where they show his apartment and he's got all those action figures still in their original boxes? And they cover like every single inch of his house?


Me: Yes.


Guy: That's totally me. It's almost like that movie was about me. 

Then he smiled. Like that was actually supposed to impress me.

Then there was some preppy jerk from Bellevue that got matched up with me, and he just kept writing these long messages talking about how awesome and rich he was, and how lucky I would be if I got to go on a date with him. So I deleted him.

After I didn't have much luck on eHarmony, I decided to try Match.com. I heard about Match from a former coworker of mine who had been rejected from eHarmony since she was a four-time divorcee. She ended up meeting her fifth husband on Match and they had a "lovely Pagan wedding" or something crazy like that.

I was even further discouraged on Match. Most of the guys that lined up with my search requests seemed to already have kids from multiple previous relationships, or were divorced a few times over (probably lots of other eHarmony rejects, I assumed). 

But then. The last straw.

A guy I went to high school with found me on Match and started messaging me.

Oh holy lord of all that is embarrassing!

Not only was it a guy that:

A) I had never liked, let alone been attracted to, that was now trying to hook up with me via online dating, but 

B) I figured he was already starting a phone tree with all of our former classmates, telling them that I was a pathetic loser.

Reason #37 why I am not going to my high school reunion.

And that was the end of my online dating foray.

For the record, I don't think there is anything wrong with online dating. I have several friends who have found their true loves online, and I think that the internet has opened up the amazing ability for us to connect with The One, even if the The One lives thousands of miles away.

It just didn't work for me.

But I'm not complaining.

I think it all worked out for the best.

Third

Three years ago today...

 I married this amazing man.

 I kind of adore him.

It was a beautiful day. 

Simple. Sweet. Just my style.

We laughed. We cried. We ate good food. 

 

Our dads. Negotiating the Dowry...or something.

 And at the end of the day, I was married to the man of my dreams.

He's pretty much stuck with me now.

See? It's legal. I'm almost positive.

Now that we've been married three years, we know each others' quirks, we've developed traditions as a couple and as a family. Things just feel out of balance, when the other is not around. And in spite of deployments and things that can sometimes get in the way, I am happier than I've ever been.

I'm so proud of Richard's many accomplishments, and how hard he works for our family. I am amazed at the sacrifices he makes, and his ability to keep going in situations when I know I would just sit on the floor and cry. I'm touched by his love for our sons, and I adore the soft side they bring out in him. 

He is my hero, my best friend, my confidante, my heart.

I'm sad that we cannot be together to celebrate today, this is our first anniversary apart. But I know we will be reunited shortly, and that will be the best belated anniversary gift I could receive.

Here's to Year Four!

Camping

When I was a kid, few things were more exciting than getting to go camping.

I think I fell in love with camping because my brother was a boy scout, and he got to go camping all the time. In fact, when I was younger I used to want to be a boy scout. I even wished we lived in Canada, because someone once told me that in Canada, girls are allowed to join the boy scouts. 

And I didn't want to be a girl scout, because everyone knows they're super lame. While the boy scouts got to do awesome stuff like camping with mountain lions, archery and rafting, all we got to do as girl scouts was make shirts using puffy paints, and visit nursing homes.  

So, clearly, who wouldn't want to be a Boy Scout?

The only thing good about Girl Scouts are their cookies, but those aren't even available year-round.

So since I wasn't a boy, and therefore, wasn't allowed to go camping with my brother's scout troop, it was always a treat for me when we'd get to camp out at our house. This usually involved my brother, my dad and myself sleeping in our tent in our fenced-in back yard.

On rare occasions though, my parents would actually pack up the tents, and all of my brother's campsite cooking gear, and we would head out for a night of real camping in the woods.

I loved it. 

We would build a campfire, roast marshmallows and my dad would tell us stories that would scare me silly. I didn't mind sleeping on the hard ground, my head resting on a jagged rock for a pillow. 

I didn't mind using the campsite restrooms that didn't offer soap. Or warm water. 

I didn't mind waking up in the morning, freezing from the cold, and soaking wet from the dew that had leaked through the tent's sides. It was all part of the grand experience!

As I got older though, my love of camping waned. I preferred a warm, comfy bed to the hard, cold sleeping arrangements of the great outdoors.

When Richard and I were dating, I actually asked him if he liked camping, because the last thing I wanted was to marry a man who would make me go camping with him all summer long, and I'd have to pretend I loved it. Because like 15 years into our marriage we'd be having an argument one day and I'd be all, "Well ya know what? I NEVER liked camping!" And then his whole world would be shattered it would be just a big, ugly mess.

So I was relieved when Richard told me that he too, is not a fan.

I can't remember which was my last camping trip: the one where my brother and I hiked down to the beach and got attacked by sand fleas, or the one where I drank too many Mike's Hard Lemonades, woke up at 3am, couldn't find the restroom and had to pee in the dark, bear-infested woods. Either way, I haven't gone camping in nearly six years. I think I'm done with all that out-doorsy stuff.

We have two sons though, and I was certain that around ages three and four they would probably get the desire to camp out in the back yard. 

But I think it may have happened sooner than I was expecting.

Recently, I ordered two miniature tents, which are meant for traveling with. I am planning to take them with is when we travel to Hawaii and then Illinois this winter. Since both the boys can climb out of cribs now, I wanted them to have something to sleep in that they cannot escape from, so that I won't have to stay up all night guarding our hotel door making sure they don't take off with any strangers...or let one in.

They love the tents. 

I mean, it must be some genetic thing in boys. Like, they just know they are supposed to be into camping out and roughing it and stuff. They were playing in the tents all weekend, so Saturday night I decided I would indulge them a bit.

And we camped out.

Mommy-style.

Their tents:

My tent:

 Okay, that's just my bed.

Our campfire:

(Battery-operated candles).

There were even wild animals roaming around the campsite:

 

It was some legit camping up in here.

Except that it was a pleasant 70 degrees, and I didn't wake up wet from dew, bitten from sand fleas, or hung over from Mike's Hard Lemonade. And my bathroom was two feet away, offering me more than enough soap and warm water.

I think I might just be in love with this whole camping thing again.

Distance

With Richard on deployment, we are definitely faced with the challenge of staying connected, and up to date on what's going on with both of us. I try to keep Richard informed with stories and photos of the boys, and news of all that is happening here so that he doesn't feel like he is missing out on milestones, or big achievements while he's gone. Even though we are separated physically by many miles, I want him to feel like he is still very much a part of our lives, and vice-versa.

I think we do a pretty good job of communicating and sharing, and just simply asking each other what's new or how we're doing. 

Every once in awhile though, I will make mistakes. This happened yesterday.

I got some very exciting news in the morning, when I received an email from the folks over at www.thesmartly.com, that I had been accepted to be a contributing writer for them. This is huge for me; the first opportunity I have had to publish my writing on a site other than my own blog. I was thrilled when I got the news, and quickly told everyone I knew.

Almost.

It wasn't until about 7 o'clock last night that I suddenly realized I hadn't told Richard. 

I hadn't told my husband. The person closest to me.

How could I have made such an oversight?

This was the biggest news I have had in a long time, and I couldn't understand how I had failed to tell him the moment that I found out. I instantly typed out an email to him. I told him a thousand times that I wish more than anything he were here with me so we could celebrate together.

It made me feel a little better, but not much. I try so hard to keep him in our thoughts and in our hearts. His photos are everywhere, and I check my email like every five seconds, hoping to hear from him. He is constantly on my mind, and yet, his absence all these months caused me to forget the fact that he should be first on my list of people I share big stuff with.

It's not easy, having the miles and distance between us. No matter how on top of things I think I may be, I was reminded last night that I have to continually work to make sure that the physical distance between us does not become emotional as well.

This is Totally Random

I'm kind of paranoid when it comes to my front teeth.

I'm always afraid that they're going to be knocked out from one of my kids head-butting me, or from me clenching my teeth so hard at night, I even had to get a night guard. Yes, I look super hot when I go to bed...a little something like Tina Fey from "Date Night", if you know the scene I am referring to. 

All kinds of hotness.

Anyhow, my fear probably comes from the fact that my front teeth have been knocked out several times in the past.

It started with my baby teeth. My brother is actually responsible for both of those.

The first time, we were on a family vacation in Florida in the spring of 1989, and we were taking a boat ride. I was laying on one of the benches on the boat, and my brother was leaning over the front rail, trying to get a good look at the swamp below. The captain told him he needed to sit down. So like any normal person, he just backed up, without looking where he was going, and he sat down.

Right on my face.

Tim: 1, Front teeth: 0.

I cried and cried, but then we went to Disney World and I forgot all about it.

A few months later we were back home, and Tim and I went to the park one day with friends. We were throwing a football around. I don't think Tim really wanted his little sister hanging out with him and his buddies, so when I asked him to pass me the ball, he threw it a little too hard and it hit me right in the mouth.

Tim: 2, Front teeth: 0.

Only, that tooth didn't get completely knocked out.

I walked home, with my mouth bleeding, tooth hanging by a couple of nerves. My dad had to pull it out with pliers. I'm thinking I must have blacked out or something, because all I remember is him showing me the pliers, and then nothing after that.

So a few years went by and I had my fancy permanent teeth. It was the fall of 1993 and I was playing outside with my dog. The ground was wet and I was wearing Keds - not exactly known for their traction.  The bottoms of my shoes were wet and I didn't realize that I was literally walking into the perfect storm of slippery shoes meeting cement flooring.

I ran into our garage, and had only take a couple steps when I slipped and my face smacked against the cold, hard floor. I immediately knew something was wrong, and I was terrified. My mom made me open my mouth, and I could tell she was trying to control her reaction, so as not to upset me more. She later told me that she thought my teeth were irreparably damaged.

My two front teeth were broken, so that there was a gap that looked like a large, upside-down "V". It was brutal.

Thankfully, my dentist opened his office that Sunday evening, and was able to put fillers in, so that it looked like I had normal teeth again. I had those fillers until 2003, when I finally got veneers.

While my teeth look and feel real, I know that they are not as strong as actual teeth, and every time that I bump a glass against them, or Ryan knocks his head against my mouth, I think that they're going to break.

I try to be cautious. 

I avoid Gobstoppers and peanut brittle, and when I eat an apple I cut it into thin slices, rather than eating it whole, and I keep my dentist's number handy. I also remember as a kid hearing that if your tooth falls out you are supposed to hold it in place while drinking milk? Or something? I don't know, but I always make sure we have milk in the house too. Although, I'm not sure if the milk thing would work since my teeth are pretty much just tiny pieces of fine China.

Oh, and I don't let my brother get anywhere near me, with or without a football.

Tweezer Ninja

It doesn't take much to scare me.

A horror film, a book about ghosts, a creepy story told around the campfire - any number of things can get into my brain and when night falls, and I am alone, my imagination starts to run wild.

At the beginning of this week I was met with a few frightening tales I read online. The internet is a scary place, my friends. I read some unsettling stories of other bloggers having photos of their children stolen from their sites and used for various reasons. Then I read a horrible story of a Navy wife who was murdered while her husband was on deployment. With her killer still at large, the internet adds a whole new dimension to the case, since she was active on social networking sites. 

Being on Facebook, Twitter, MySpace, Flickr, or having a blog, and taking advantage of the awesome networking possibilities that the internet has to offer is so much fun. It can be easy to forget that there is a dark side to all of it though. There are bad people out there, with bad intentions. 

So these are the things that have been on my mind all week. 

Last night I kept hearing strange noises in the house. I'm pretty sure it was just the kids moving around in the cribs, but OMG it is so much louder at 11 o' clock at night! 

I couldn't sleep. I went out to watch TV, but the only thing on at that time is the news, and all they want to talk about is people getting murdered. 

And I hate that we have these big windows on the side of our house, and I haven't put curtains on them, and the outside light burned out like three months ago, so I can't see out the windows once it gets dark...but you can totally see IN.

So I naturally assume that there is always some serial killer or home invader just standing outside the window, dressed all in black with a hoodie pulled over his head - super creepy like - and he is staring at me. 

His gun/knife/nunchucks gleeming in the moonlight.

And he just watches me. 

So I act really tough when I walk by the windows, to give off the impression that he totally can't handle THIS.

Sometimes I yell toward the bedroom and have a super loud, pretend conversation with my husband and I mention how he is big and scary and has military training on how to kill people, so you should just move along to the next house, Mr. Serial Killer, because we are definitely not helpless victims for you to prey on.

Last night, just to prove this point, I brought my tweezers out to the family room with me and waved them around to show that I have some seriously sharp tweezers and I know how to use them.

So if any bad persons are reading this, and considering doing harm to my family or me, you would be wise to forget it, because this is one tweezer-wielding chick you don't wanna mess with.