The Things We Can't Say

I think the biggest challenge for any blogger with kids is trying to decide how much is too much to share about their lives.

There is nothing more interesting to me than my children.  My life is intimately wrapped up in theirs.  They are my responsibility and their needs and problems shape my days and direct my thoughts and my moods.

But ultimately they are their own people with their own stories to tell, and as much as I feel as if their problems partially belong to me too, I don't really have a right to broadcast their private worlds out onto the web.  They don't mind my sharing certain events and general stories of trips and basic milestones, but then most of the time those stories are really about my own reactions, and not really about them.  Despite that, it means there are many things I can't say.

AAAARRRrrrggggghhhhhh!

This is just a quick, anguished cry in the middle of the night to say that I worked for DAYS on a blog post about our trip to New York for Easter and right when I finished it tonight my computer blinked out and rebooted for no apparent reason and the whole post is GONE.  Gone gone gone.  I don't understand why Blogger only has the intro I started a week ago and not anything I hit "save" on since.  None of the photos or the links.  Nothing.

I have so little time as it is, and to have all that work disappear making that writing effort a waste....   I don't know if I have the energy to write it all again.

Ugh.  

Revisiting the Fort

I recently came across a link to my old archive, which I thought was completely lost.  I'm feeling quite nostalgic for my kids when they were little after reading those old posts.  I do not miss the stress that came with my husband's deployments, but that has been interesting to remember as well.

For those who don't know, I started blogging at Babble.com back in 2009 with a personal blog called Holding Down the Fort.  Babble was a new kind of parenting site when it started a few years earlier, and my dad had sent me an article about it.  After reading that article I contacted them about writing an essay based on my experience as a parent whose husband was deployed.  My piece, called The Home Front, was rated their most inspiring in their first year online.  I did a followup piece when my husband came back from Iraq called Return to the Home Front, which got picked up in various places.

It was a good experience getting paid for my writing and interesting getting feedback from people in so many places.  Babble was quirky and surprising at the time, and the editors I was in contact with originally were great.

When my husband was called up for a second tour in Iraq I approached Babble about blogging my experience during that deployment.  The first deployment was incredibly isolating, and I thought blogging the second time around might help.  It did.  I enjoy the discipline of regular writing, and the personal nature of blogging and direct contact with readers is satisfying.  I loved my blog at Babble, and I'm still grateful for many of the contacts I've made through that site.

Although it started out fine, working with Babble was frustrating.  I was one of about a half a dozen personal bloggers at first.  The bigger names (such as Rebecca Wolf with her spinoff blog called Straight from the Bottle, and Katie Granju) didn't really involve themselves with our little community on the site, but others I felt close to, the way you do when you regularly follow a parenting blog and reach out through email.  Jane Roper I still actively follow on her new blog, and others like Dawn Meehan and Oz Spies are still at Babble in some capacity.  One of the best blogs I've ever read was Divorced with Kids, which was a spinoff of Irretrievably Broken, whose anonymous author is now one of my most cherished friends.  Our little corner of personal bloggers at Babble was a special place for a while.

Then the Voices started.  In preparation for the Disney buyout, Babble decided to create a wall of big name bloggers who were supposed to attract big numbers coming over from their already popular blogs.

Freedom Ringing!

Or something.  It being MLK Day that title just kind of naturally popped up, but in terms of the actual day I will just refer back to this particular post.

And my husband did fix our bell, so that's ringing again, but that's not what this post is about, either.

No, this post is about actual rings.  Over a year ago my husband lost his wedding ring at the Y.  He's been borrowing one of mine ever since, and I've been wearing a new one.  Periodically I'll ask at the desk if a wedding band has turned up in Lost and Found, and the answer has always been no.  Seeing as the Y is closing soon, I figured I should check one last time.

Three Plus Two

One of my original editors at Babble when I used to blog there (before the site was bought by Disney and turned into a useless collection of bland click bait) recently invited me to submit an essay for her current parenting site Mom.me.  She was looking for a parenting piece with a military theme for Memorial Day.  At the time we were in the middle of watching two kids for a friend of ours who was off doing two weeks of service with the National Guard.  I had started a blog post about it, so I just reworked that into an essay she could use.

If you'd like to read it, the piece is up on Mom.me already.

I've also recorded it for the local radio show Lake Effect for air on Memorial Day.  (I'll post a link when that becomes available.)  UPDATE:  My piece is at the 46:20 mark.

Mom.me was also kind enough to name me among their favorite military parenting bloggers.  It's a list I'm honored to be a part of.

Although, thankfully, my own personal experiences of late have been very dull on the military front and I hope it stays that way.  Ian recently finished his job as a military history teacher for ROTC at Marquette and is now with a unit that specializes in training other units in mechanical jobs, so it's not a group ever likely to get deployed.  Of course, when I ask him to say those words out loud to make me feel better, he can't quite do it.  He says our current situation with wars winding down and the Army weeding people out using things like renewed tattoo restrictions makes the odds of his being sent anywhere very low, but his actual position anywhere has no relation to what he can be asked to do.

It's been interesting looking at my life from a military mom perspective again, however tangential that status may seem now.  I'm amazed how even stressful events can fade given enough time and new distractions.  I was reviewing some of my old posts from during the last deployment and was surprised what I'd forgotten.*  For instance, Mona used to panic every time I dropped Aden off at school.  I had the very clear sense that from her point of view we had dropped her dad off somewhere and he never came back, and reducing her family down further to just her and pregnant me was unacceptable.  She did not let her sister go without a fight every morning.  Until I reread those words on my old blog I had forgotten the intensity of it.  It was a good reminder.

Bad Guinea Pig

I had an epically bad psych teacher in high school who once randomly told our class that we had to decide how much we were worth.  That if we found a wallet on the street with $100 inside and chose to keep it, then we were selling our souls for a mere $100.

I get where he was going, but he used a terrible example.  My friends and I agreed that it was worth questioning where we draw the line for money, but it seemed to us the more you found on the street the more likely you were to return it.  If I find a nickel on the ground I'll likely keep it, and don't feel I'm selling my soul for a pittance just because I don't search for the person who dropped the nickel.  A bill I'd probably look around for evidence of where it came from and give it back if possible, but not feel bad if it seemed unclaimed and I decided it was now mine.  A wallet with any amount inside I would definitely return.  A bag with a million dollars?  Straight to the police.

But there are interesting questions to explore concerning money and integrity and feeling like you've sold your soul that are worth exploring.  I run into them every day when I make decisions for my business.  For instance, I use really nice strings on my rental violins.  It makes them sound better, which is important to me.  But none of the major stores in town do that because it's expensive.  They expect renters to buy their own strings if they want to sound better.  I think that's short sighted, because sounding good is the whole point, and what if they hate the sound and don't know it's the fault of the strings?  Anyway, I seldom decide what to do at the violin store based on money first.  I start with what's best and appropriate and what seems fair, and then factor in money enough to stay in business, and so far so good.  I will not be making the Fortune 500 anytime soon, but I'm happy and my kids are fed so we're a successful small business in my book.

When it comes to blogging I find the range of what people earn from it fascinating. 

In Real Life

Some blog posts I just dash off in one sitting because they need to go out in a timely manner to make sense.  Others I poke at for a long time before they are ready.  Always there are at least a few blog posts in progress in my draft folder to work on as I find time.  Which means sometimes things go out back to back that were conceived during very different frames of mind.

So if anyone found my thoughts about the value of online friendship and social media to be somewhat in conflict with the post that immediately followed about our family's relative lack of electronic devices, you were correct.  They were two sides of the same coin that I flip around regularly, and I started those posts at different times and for different reasons. (The second one I didn't even plan to talk about smartphones, that just kind of happened.)

In any case, this is one of those timely manner posts that needs to be dashed off before it gets away from me, and it relates directly to my post about virtual friendships.

I got to meet writer/blogger Jane Roper in real life on my recent trip to Boston.

One Year in the Quiet Corner

Today is the one year anniversary of this blog.  I like it here.

It's curious, and sometimes sad, to look at paths not taken.  When picking a major for college I decided of all the areas that interested me music was the most likely to deteriorate and not remain a viable option if I didn't continue it.  So I headed that way, unsure of what I would do with it since a performance career didn't appeal to me and at the time I didn't plan to teach.  When I stumbled on the idea of instrument making it felt like finding a home, and I'm glad it's something I pursued.  I'm unlikely to reach the top of my profession, but I appreciate the challenge of trying to earn a place there.

A different direction that I had the option to take was writing.  I love to write.  It was always the easiest thing for me in school.  I was one of those (irritating) people who could put off a paper until mere hours before it was due and dash off something that the teacher would not only give me an A for, but praise as an example to other classes.  But I only wrote as part of school assignments and that was it.  I didn't decide to take a stab at writing on my own until I was in my mid-30s.

Virtually Friends

I am very saddened by the recent death of Roger Ebert.  He may have been famous for his movie reviews, but in my mind he was a blogger.  When cancer stole his ability to speak he turned not just to writing, but to an internet community.  There is a difference between putting your writing out there, and being willing to make that an interactive experience with your readers.  It creates a connection that doesn't exist purely in a single direction.  It's one thing to read an excerpt like the one he wrote about his love for his wife in his memoir, but another to have it posted on his blog where people can comment.  My 'Happy Anniversary' wish may not have been memorable, but it was sincere, and there is something about knowing he saw it.  I will miss his writing.

Mr Ebert certainly never read my blog, and I'm not pretending he had any real connection to me at all, but on a smaller scale I frequently connect to others through blogging in a more mutual way.  There is a capacity to get to know people through this medium that to my mind is unique.

I read a post recently by one of my favorite bloggers that has stayed with me.  She announced that she and the father of her children were breaking up.  I am genuinely sad about it.

What surprises me a little, however, is that it hit me about as hard as similar announcements by people I actually know.  I've never met this blogger, but I feel I know her through her writing.  I know more details about her opinions and beliefs and what her kids are up to than I do about many people I see face to face who supposedly count as real friends by comparison.

11 Questions

Sharon Marie over at Finding Vanilla Octopus was kind enough to include me in her Liebster Award list.  It seems to work kind of like a chain letter that connects bloggers and brings awareness to smaller blogs.  To qualify your blog must have fewer than 200 followers, and if nominated by someone (tag! I'm it!) you are supposed to reveal 11 things about yourself, answer 11 questions, and nominate 11 more bloggers (not including the one who nominated you) and pose 11 new questions to them.

I'm game!  I love answering new questions.  I don't have a list of 11 bloggers to nominate since too many of the blogs I follow appear to have large readerships, but I'll do my best.

So here are 11 somewhat random things about myself that some of you know and some of you don't:

The Journal Paradox

I have tried several times in my life to keep a journal.  The idea appeals to me so much, to chronicle my thoughts and the moments both big and small that shape who I become.  Events and people I'm convinced I'll never forget fade from memory, and having some record of all of it to refer to later is reassuring.

Blogging has been my most recent stab at keeping a journal, and arguably my most successful in that I do it regularly, but it's not the same.  I like putting a pen to real paper and having something to store on a shelf that I can pull down and page through.  I often take a blank journal with me when I go on an interesting trip to jot down my adventures and to have a place to store things like ticket stubs or park passes, and reading through all of that later is incredibly satisfying.

But here is why keeping a journal always falls apart for me:  The moments when you have time to write are seldom the moments most worth writing about.

When I read through any of my journal entries from when I was in school they are all a depressing ramble about being a lonely misfit.  My plans fell through and I was stuck at home or in a dorm room feeling sorry for myself and there was lots of time to wallow in that and get it all down on paper in excruciating detail.  But what about the nights I was up with my friends laughing until I couldn't breathe?  Or exploring something new on campus?  Or working hard on a great project?  No time to write about any of that.  I was too busy living it.  And then it slips away and seems like old news by the time there is a moment to get it onto paper.  Even those trip journals skim quickly over any experience of the Eiffel Tower to go on about doing laundry in a youth hostel.  Finding the time to write skews what you write about.

Same thing happens with blogging now.  Between the kids getting out of school and Ian leaving for a couple of weeks of Army duty I've had no time to write.  And there has been so much to write about!  In my head I've started about a dozen different posts, some of which are on topics that will keep, but most of which seem time sensitive and are lost if I don't do something with them.

For instance, writing about Father's Day after Ian gets home and I have time to write about it is weird.  That will be around the 4th of July, and at that point I'm sure I'd rather write about that.  So, without any great detail, here is a shot of Ian and the kids on Father's Day on the bridge in front of the Milwaukee Art Museum where I was performing with the Milwaukee Mandolin Orchestra before Ian had to rush off to Ft McCoy:

I could write a whole post about the museum.  Or the art fair.  Or what the kids made for Ian for Father's Day.  Or whine about how the Army took Ian away on Father's Day.  Or playing mandola on stage.  Or how cool Lake Michigan is.  Or how Mona complains about squinting in the sun.  Or Quinn's butterfly shirt.  Or the state of the kids' shoes.  Or eighty-gabillion other things that I find interesting but I have no time to reflect upon.

I plan to write a post about Quinn's new Australia map that we made:

And I really want to write a post about my brother Barrett trying to give my kids a lesson in climbing trees:

But we'll see.

I'd rather enjoy a life well lived and forgotten than a worthless existence of navel gazing that is carefully documented.  Socrates may have thought the unexamined life was not worth living, but trying to keep a journal has taught me otherwise.  Self-reflection is a bonus, not an end in itself.

I have more to write, but a full day ahead.  I hope I find some time to tell you all about it.

Coda (Babble)

I have loved this blog.  I really have.  I’m sad to see it go.

This blog has given me a chance to approach my writing in a more consistent manner.  It’s given me an opportunity to share my thoughts on matters that interest me.  This blog has been a sounding board, a record of my life’s recent events, and a place to work out my feelings during some difficult times.

This blog has been my own little corner of the internet that felt like home.

But blogging here is also a business, and I don’t have the kind of numbers that make me a viable product.  The readership I have gained over the past few years, however, has been loyal to a fault.  Is it too strong to say I love you?  In a way that’s ludicrous, I know, but it’s hard to express how much it means to a writer to be read.  You, as the reader, are the last step in the process that turns the thoughts in my head and my choice of words into something finished, something real.  You have made my time here worthwhile.

I will continue to write and continue to search for an agent, and I will find another venue in which to blog.  I’ll only be a Google search away, so I hope you come find me.

Thank you for reading.  It’s meant more than you know.

UPDATE:  Check out my new blog!

D.C. al (Babble)

We just returned from a lovely week in Michigan.  The past several years we’ve spent spring break in New York, but that wasn’t a viable option this time around and we ended up instead in Detroit for a few days with my parents, and then at the cottage with my brother and his daughter.  Being in my childhood home and in the last place I still feel my grandmother’s touch has put me in a mood for reflection.

I also don’t like loose ends, so now is the moment to begin to wrap things up.
When I began blogging here at Babble in 2009 my baby boy was only two.  My violin store was a little younger than that.  My girls were preparing to go into full day kindergarten and second grade.  Ian was preparing for his second deployment to Iraq, and I was struggling with the dread and fear that accompanies what I knew my role in that would be.

It’s interesting to stand here in 2012 and look back on who we were, and who we are now.  I don’t have enough words to express how glad I am that my husband is home, safe and sound, working on his own laptop as I type and as we listen to our children laughing at their own invented games in the other room.

Today my son is five and reading.  Mona is a second grade artistic marvel.  Aden is the tallest girl in fourth grade and has been to sleep away camp and can run errands to Target alone.  Ian teaches ROTC cadets at a nearby university.  My violin store now has two part-time employees and we’re expanding to include a teaching studio.  For our own little family life is looking good from this new vantage point with the trials of the past few years behind us and the future ahead looking bright.

My father is doing well.  There have been such frightening ups and downs with his health the past few years, in and out of hospitals, so much stress upon my mom.  But as of his most recent doctor’s visit there is no sign of cancer.  He gets around with a cane and lives a life at home, retired from his eponymous art gallery, and seems happy.  I think about how many times I worried that I would never have a real conversation with my dad again and am grateful for his level of recovery.

I miss my grandmother.  She had recently moved to a higher level of care in her nursing home in 2009 and I still can’t believe she’s gone.  Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her, or wish I could tell her about events in my life both monumental and trivial.  She loved me in a way that is gone from my world and that truth is still hard to accept some days.  She would have been pleased that we kept her cottage in the family and that her great-grandchildren are building new memories there, laughing, playing the same games I used to, and happily chasing our dog through the woods.

As I reflect back on these past few years and beyond I think my story is a nice one.  There is no other one I would have rather lived, and I look forward to what’s ahead.  But my story as it’s told here is drawing to a close, so if there are loose ends I haven’t covered or questions anyone has left to ask, now is the time.  (But don’t ask me what kind of wood violins are made of, because frankly that one makes me tired.)

Day of Little Things (Babble)

Today was weird.  Partially because after getting the kids to school I ended up taking an unexpected (but apparently needed) nap and then I had to take the dog to the vet.  (The dog, of course, became a picture of perfect health as soon as I secured the emergency appointment, so we will take that as a good thing even though SERIOUSLY DOG?)

Anyway, Tuesdays my assistant mans the violin store and I’m supposed to get other work done at home.  Things like violin making and writing and practicing.  I got to none of the big projects I was hoping to do, but wound up dedicating the day to small stuff.  The kind of stuff that crosses your mind in one room and forget as soon as you walk into another.

Today I wrote those things down and started ticking them off the list.  So I feel like I was completely unproductive and yet I got all these things done:



I found the invitation to (and called in the RSVP for) the first birthday party Quinn’s been invited to.

I dug up Aden’s permission slip for all her class trips this month.

Bought batteries.

I wrote down what Mona told me she wants to be when she grows up so I won’t forget.  (She’s considering Teacher, Chef, Vet, or Farmer.)

Looked at new dishwashers and finally ordered one to replace the one that broke last week.

Picked up a waste can with a lid on it for the downstairs bathroom (stupid dog being gross digging in the waste can).

Accepted an in invitation to a neighborhood Valentine’s party.

Canceled Aden’s lesson that conflicts with the Valentine’s party.

Got eggs and milk and bread.

Got more paper towels for the violin store.

Called the doctor about Quinn continuing to snore despite having his tonsils and adenoids removed, and refilled his prescription for antibiotics.

Emailed my mom about their plans to visit.

Emailed my brother about our plans for spring break.

Worked on getting Mona’s book club together.

Picked up a violin to lend to a friend.

Remembered to bring toilet paper upstairs before it’s too late.

Got the bags of stuff in the upstairs hall for Goodwill off to the donation center.

Called the insurance agent.

Called the appliance repair guy.

Aaaaaannd then just a bunch of regular stuff like picking up kids from school and walking the dog and helping the girls practice violin, etc.

Among the things that didn’t happen was writing a really great blog post.  But that’s the kind of day it was so this will have to do.

Tomorrow, darn it, I need to tackle something big!  (Although just thinking about that makes me want to take another nap.  Is it bedtime yet?)

A Good List (Babble)

There are lots of different reasons why I write the blog posts I do.  Sometimes I want input.  Sometimes I want to share news.  There are concepts that bump around my brain and writing them down helps me get better clarity on them.  Often when I write about my kids it’s purely to document something for myself so I don’t forget.  When Ian was deployed many posts were to keep him up to speed with how things were going here at home.  Now that he’s back, it’s more to help faraway friends and family to check in.  I’ve made new friends through this blog.  I’ve developed better writing habits.  I’ve made interesting connections.  I love writing this blog.

Today’s post is purely selfish.  As we reflect at this time of year about what we are thankful for, I realize I have more to be thankful for than in any other time in my life.  I just want to take a moment to jot down what many of those things are so that during the silly self-pitying moments that will inevitably creep into my life in the future I will have a place to refer to and remind myself to get some perspective.  So here is my list of things I am thankful for:


My health.  Health is always one of those things generally healthy people use as a last resort when trying to muster gratitude, but honestly?  Everything hinges on it.  And I have had numerous reminders lately from my dad’s struggles with cancer to simply a friend with pink eye to not remember to appreciate my health.  Because I am healthy I feel limitless.

The health of my kids and husband.

Aden’s kindness.

Mona’s creativity.

Quinn’s curiosity and interest in learning.

My husband is home.  In one piece.  When I was swimming this morning I was listening to some old podcasts of Fresh Air and wound up hearing their Veteran’s Day program.  I’d listened to it when it aired and was not in the mood to hear it again, but sometimes the buttons on my waterproof ipod freeze up in odd ways and I couldn’t change any settings.  So as I went back and forth in the pool at the Y I listened to the whole show again about soldiers injured by IEDs and the effects of brain injuries and PTSD and the number of suicides vets commit every day and the number of ways our country lets its soldiers down when they return home.  Those kinds of stories still affect me deeply, but don’t hit me with the stark sensation of abject terror that they did while Ian was in Iraq both times.  My soldier is home.  I wish every family with a soldier could say the same this Thanksgiving.

I love our house and still can’t believe we get to live in it.  There is nothing like waking up every day in the right space.  And we just had a roof put over our front porch, so a nice place just got even nicer.

Our business is doing fine.  I’m proud of us that during tough economic times our small business can provide for our family, and that we can even afford a couple of part time employees.

I’m fortunate that the number of customers I’ve dealt with that have caused me distress or disappointment I can count on one hand.  The vast majority of people who walk into my store give me faith in the kindness and creativity in my community, from small children excited to start violin to their parents who are excited for them, to symphony players who dedicate their lives to beauty, to fiddle players who light up when they find the right bow….  It’s hard not to feel good about people in general when you meet them in a violin store.

I’m thankful that I still have both my parents.

I miss my grandma, but I’m glad we were able to keep her cottage in the family.  We’ll be making her recipe for orange jello for Thanksgiving.  I have her jello mold and the glass serving dish for it.  Normally it’s a Christmas thing, but my kids love it as much as my brothers and I did when we were little, so better to err on the side of more orange jello.  Grandma would approve.  I was lucky to have had a grandma like that even though it hurts now that she’s gone.

I’m thankful for music.  All music.  Some well meaning Christian ladies came into my violin store a few weeks back to give me some tracts about God and music, saying something about how awful certain kinds of music could be like that ‘heavy metal’ stuff, thinking they were on safe ground with such statements in a cozy shop that caters to classically trained musicians.  I smiled and said, “Oh, but I love heavy metal.  I think all music is sacred.”  They looked so confused and stricken, but I loved the hours I spent in college learning Fade to Black on my guitar.

(Quinn’s drawing of a radio playing music.)

I’m thankful for our new dog.

And that my husband still thinks I’m pretty and fun to talk to.

And that my kids still want my company.

I’m thankful for decent woodworking tools and having a room of my own in the house just for building violins.

I’m thankful for my hands.

I like the school my kids go to.  I like all of their teachers and am so impressed with the patience they show toward the kids.  It bothers me that people don’t value education in a community enough that our school had to cut both art and gym, but I’m still thankful that Montessori is an option in our public school system even with budget cuts.

I’m thankful for flashlights and Rubik’s cubes and for living within about two miles of nearly everything we need.

I’m thankful for having the two best brothers in the world and for the people they’ve brought into our family.

I’m thankful for every day that I get to do things that interest me, and be with the people I love most.

I’m thankful for being alive at this particular moment and place in the world.  I get tired of the gloom and doom and people who pine for some magical yesteryear that was not the sparkling land of perfection and innocence they imagine it to have been.  There is still a lot to work toward and improve, but I will take modern dentistry and the internet and my right to equal treatment under the law over anything you want to offer me from the past.  I still believe these are the good old days.

I am fed.

I am warm.

I have friends I can count on.

I’m thankful that my problems right now really don’t qualify as problems.

And I’m thankful for my readers!  You are the final step that turns what I write into something meaningful.  Thank you for that.  And I hope all of you have as much to be thankful for this season.  I wish you the best.

(I asked Quinn once this summer what he wanted to learn to write, and he said, “Everything!”  So I wrote down everything.  And I guess that sums up what I’m thankful for.)

Of Memories And Editing (Babble)

I’ve been using most of my writing time lately to edit the manuscript I’m putting together.  I’m compiling my husband’s and my email correspondence during his first deployment back in  2006 and 2007.  A friend on the receiving end of both of our mass emails at the time said the juxtaposition of our stories would make a really interesting book.  On the chance other people think so too, I’m giving it a go.

It’s fascinating to put yourself mentally back in a place you used to be.  I’m shocked at just how much I’d forgotten, or possibly blocked out.

When Ian was deployed the first time we only had six days notice before he had to leave.  I was two months pregnant.  The girls were two and four.  I had so many responsibilities with work and teaching and performing that my life was not set up to work as a single parent and I was sent scrambling to figure out what to do.  It was a long fifteen months.
Ian’s stories are fascinating.  He was on a general’s staff dealing with information that gave him an overview of all of Iraq.  I’d forgotten just how upsetting some of his accounts were.  While sorting through and editing some of his own emails Ian actually became somewhat anxious and unhappy again.  I told him I would do the rest of it.  I shouldn’t have asked him to relive the war for my project, but I did need his help identifying what information may not be suitable for print because I don’t know what the army would approve of or not.  Now I only share with him the parts of the book about silly and funny things the kids did, which strangely mirrors the way I communicated with Ian back at the time.

I’m surprised, reading back, at just how difficult Mona was.  I remember her as being challenging, and I can still recount certain vivid moments and character traits, but she has mellowed so much that I’ve long since let most of those feelings of frustration go.  It’s strange to imagine her again as she used to be.  She didn’t really connect through talking for a long time, preferring to go through phases of only making puppy noises or quoting certain cartoons.  I had completely forgotten just how many lamps she broke.

I forgot just how much time both Aden and I spent crying.

Even if the book goes nowhere, I’m glad to be getting that crucial period of time in our family’s history down in some form for my kids to see later.  Only Aden may have vague memories of that first deployment, but it shaped so much of how we function as a family.
I wish so much I could convince my dad to write down what he remembers of his family history growing up, but he just kind of dismisses the idea when my brothers and I ask.  There have been small attempts to wrangle information out of him here or there, but nothing I could easily recount to my own kids if they asked.  My mom has created beautiful art books about my grandparents and great-grandparents, but I want to know her own story most of all.

One of the things we may sacrifice a bit as parents is a sense of our own story having much meaning after a while.  My life prior to my kids doesn’t seem as important somehow.  I enjoy focusing on my kids and the future.  But when I think how much I want to know my own parents as the people they were before I came along, I realize how much my own history may mean to my kids one day.  I don’t know what kind of time I’ll ever have to document much of my past for them, but at least this period of war and the blur of small children will be something they may find interesting.

I think especially when you have your own kids it makes you stop and reevaluate your parents not as parents but as people in a way few events do.  My children may be curious in the future how I juggled all of them with their dad away, and the ways in which their dad did his best to stay involved despite the distance and circumstances.

The one thing they may not see in the edited collection of emails is just how often their dad and I said we loved one another.  Most of my editing is removing emails that don’t advance any sort of narrative, and after the third little note that just says, “I love you” I’m sure readers would get the point.  It’s funny, though, editing out so much love and leaving in the trauma, because it’s the opposite of how I try to live my actual life.

In any case, this process of immersing myself in my own past for a bit has made me both laugh and cry, as well as make me thankful for my family all over again.  We’re in a better place today than we were five years ago.  Many things are easier, I’m doing more of the things that interest me, Ian is home, kids are growing up….  The one thing that hasn’t changed, though, is Quinn would be just as happy spending all of his time in my lap today as he was as a baby.  And his laugh still makes me melt.

(Kids of the past:)

Forget Walking and Chewing Gum at the Same Time... (Babble)

I am blogging while walking on my treadmill!

Despite my hopeful attempts of late to get in better shape, getting out to exercise keeps getting interrupted by life.  The kids will be off of school or someone gets sick or I have to use my time to wrap presents because things like memorial services pop up.  I know these aren’t real excuses to some people, but I argue those are people who actually like to exercise.  I know several people who run, and not because they have to but they seem to like it.  I am not one of those people.  I wish I were one of those people!  The idea of exercising for the pleasure of it rather than as some time sucking chore is amazing to me.  I like the results of it, I understand it is something I must do, but I am infinitely happier reading a book or building a violin or cuddling with my kids, none of which burn calories or strengthen muscles.  Time spent exercising makes me want to scream.

But, my weight has reached proportions that make me physically uncomfortable, so I have to start paying attention and putting the task of getting into better shape on the front burner.  I can’t ignore it.  I want to be healthy and I want to be a healthy example to my kids.  I can’t be a role model that shows them exercise is fun, but at least I can prove to them I believe when something is important to do, you do it even if you don’t want to.  And whenever possible, be creative.

I saw a news story a few weeks back about a workplace that got rid of traditional desks and replaced them with treadmill workstations.  The employees could walk slowly while they typed and used the phone, and everyone was happier.  What an idea!  If I could combine my laptop time with exercise, that could work.


We have a simple, fold-up treadmill that had gotten buried behind computer equipment in Ian’s study.  I had him move it into my shop.  I am not crazy about anything invading my shop space that is not directly related to violin making, and the treadmill is being doomed to a sawdust covered existence, but it’s an out of the way room with enough space for it, so in it went.

My first thought was to construct a tall shelf thing with legs that would fit on either side of the treadmill, but then I realized if I faced the wall I could just screw a little shelf in right there.  It’s not very feng shui to have my back kind of to the door, but maybe I’ll just get a little rear view mirror.  (Or try turning my head.  That sounds cheaper.)

Anyway, so far it seems to work.  Walking somewhere at a pace between one and two miles an hour is easy, but I figure it adds up and it’s better than not doing it.  I walked a mile last night while writing emails and catching up on my favorite blogs.  Then I walked a little faster while watching a show on Hulu, and slowed down again when I wanted to type.  I’ve composed this whole post while walking on the treadmill, so I can actually consider blogging exercise.  And it doesn’t feel like exercise, and it doesn’t feel like wasted time.  This could be good!  The trick will be to see if I can write blog posts about anything other than walking on my treadmill.  We’ll find out soon.

Major Guest Blogger (Babble)

I am so fortunate to have spent over half my life with my husband, Ian.  I’ve written about him before in an introduction, a post about how we met, and another about our wedding.  He followed how we were doing here at home by reading this blog while he was stationed in Iraq for the past year, and now that he’s home he’s agreed to do guest post.  So here we go:

Er…uh…(shuffle feet)…is this thing on?
The first thing to know is that coming home is not one transition. It’s
about a dozen, and arriving home is actually one of the last ones. There
are the transitions from doing the job to turning in equipment and
preparing to leave, the transition to a transient existence during
movement back to the United States, the transition from the
Expeditionary Army with loaded weapons and real missions to the the
Garrison Army with funny black berets and lousy food and off-post
WalMarts, the transition back to a bureaucratic world of budgets and
important papers and Veterans Administration benefits, and finally the
transition from a unit -a temporary family- back to the world of
individuals and the real family I chose.

And then, finally, the transition to a lonely observer in a family that
seems weirdly familiar but pecks at each other in all new ways. The kids’
awe at my return lasted almost to the exit gate of the Army base. Then I
was no longer a novelty but a familiar friend-of-the-family for about an
hour. Then I was not-quite-Dad (perhaps Dad-but-like-he’s-sick) for a
couple days, present but not terribly useful, which I encouraged. Now
we’ve moved to somewhat-lazy-Dad-who-passes-the-buck-to-Mom-a-lot.
Finally, next week when school starts, the clouds will part and
independent, strong Dad will finally return and shine down upon the
Earth.

And most of those phases are deliberate. To prevent frustration. To
kids, a big man frustrated is frightening…and I play for the full
dramatic effect (yes, it’s one of my many flaws). It’s like being the
slowest kid in class all over again, the frustration of watching
everyone else in the house breeze along knowing things you are fighting
to just learn, and the kids don’t need that. The Army likes to assign
you a mentor and time for a transition. The family tries, but a
six-year-old just isn’t a great mentor about the new laundry system.
Older kids – lots of new rules and behaviors that I don’t know. How can
I control or discipline the kids fairly when I don’t know the rules?
When do they go to bed? What’s the routine? What do they eat? What
aren’t they allowed to eat? Who leaves the doors unlocked? Who sneaks
out the unlocked doors? Who showers and who bathes? Where are their
clothes? Where are their toothbrushes? Where are their shoes? Why don’t
they wear socks? Do they have socks? Where are their socks? Why doesn’t
Aden put her bike away? Who are their friends now? Who is allowed to
cross the street? Who do I need to watch most…and why?

New house – Kory knows where everything’s right place is, but I’m not
psychic and so forever looking in the wrong place for silly everyday
stuff like trash bags and towels. It took a week to find my old wallet
with my hardware store card. My old car keys -with my grocery store card
on it- are still missing (and I still miss them). Which new key opens
which door? What are the little tricks to each old door in the house?
Where does the floor squeak at night? Where are the light switches in
each room?

Why is there a drawer of weird light bulbs in the dining room china
cabinet? And which bulbs are for which lights? Why are they all
incandescent – what happened to my compact fluorescents? Why are there
two mysterious ‘utility’ drawers in the kitchen, with identical tools in
them? Why is Kory mopping the kitchen all the time? Am I supposed to do
that, too? What dishes aren’t dishwasher safe, and how can I tell? How
the hell do you program the washing machine? Am I supposed to be mowing
the lawn now? What maps and equipment belong in each car? How do you
open the garage door?

Who are all these new friends and neighbors? Who does Kory really like,
and who are we merely polite to? Who does Kory owe favors to? Who’s
garage door opener is that on the kitchen counter?

And we haven’t even touched on upcoming school, swimming safety and swim
lessons, meals and cooking, handling household bills, dentists, work,
car repairs, energy conservation, hobbies, holiday planning, exercise,
the weird list of projects (Why does she want me to move that pile of
rocks? They look heavy) and a thousand other important issues.
And over all of those thousand details is the most frustrating one for
everyone else at home: I simply don’t know what their priorities or
schedules are. Should I be mowing the lawn or feeding the kids lunch?
Should I be writing this blog post, or picking up the dratted crab
apples, or cleaning the kitchen, or moving those heavy rocks? I can do
them all, but which should be first? It takes weeks to learn the
*context* to everything again.

And finally, don’t forget that once I do learn everything, our family
might renegotiate it a bit. So there’s mild tension brewing. Much more
than you’d expect from normally dull issues like: Where should the
vacuum cleaner be stored? What meals should we plan? Can the treadmill
block this window in this room? Can these toys move to that room? When
should our exercise times be? We’re discussing change to The Way Things
Should Be to several family members…but I have definite opinions too.
So that’s what Transition Back To American Life is like – after many
changes even before coming home, it’s a balance between the frustration
of learning a thousand things you think you should already know, the
frustration of relearning the context of your spouse and family’s
priorities, and the frustration of learning it all -despite the best
efforts of my fabulous family and friends- mostly alone. But as I
approach the end of the transition, I have these amazing kids who can
read and draw and ride bikes and swim and want me to go with them, and a
spouse who still claims to like me enough to let me continue sleeping
with her…but she’ll like me even more once I get those heavy rocks
moved. So get to it, Hercules.

Kory has been amazing, giving me plenty of time to get adjusted. Trying
to get the family on more regular sleep cycles. Feeding everyone.
Keeping the household clean and running while I lumber along trying to
learn how. Telling me it’s okay to back off and rest. She understands
that it’s hard to learn. It’s hard for everyone else, too, to adjust to
this familiar man suddenly in the house.

Being in Iraq, and the transition to/from home life is neither easier
nor harder than being a parent. They are different, and most comparisons
are false. For example, the Army makes sure soldiers get plenty of
regular sleep, food, exercise, and other ways to counter stress (better
than parents), but very few parents get blown up by roadside bombs or
mortared in their bunks (better than the Army). Sure, I lost weight in
Iraq, and did good work fighting corruption…but I was also under a lot
of stress and in cramped quarters with other stressed out people, and we
had terrible food and lived in an atmosphere among the Iraqis of
complete uncertainty and hopelessness. It wasn’t harder than waking up a
2-year-old in midwinter to bundle him up and pick up older kids at
school at 5 below zero, but it wasn’t easier either.

A Question for Readers (Babble)

My husband, an excellent writer and now home from Iraq for one week, has agreed to write a guest post for this blog.

So, my question is:  Would you rather he just write about whatever he feels like, or are there more specific things anyone would like to know?  I can’t guarantee he will answer all questions seriously, but it might help him to know what interests people before he starts writing.

Any thoughts?

Censored! (Babble)

I have now been officially blogging for one year.  I’m really enjoying it, but wonder if once my husband is home from Iraq my story will hold anyone’s interest.  I hope so, because I feel like I have more to say.  I was a bit wary at first about the idea of dealing with unpleasant comments, but almost everyone has been so supportive and kind that I feel connected now to many thoughtful people who I will likely never meet but am glad to know are out there.  (The only really unfortunate comment that comes to mind was regarding this post, but I don’t suspect she ever read anything else of mine, and every time I think of it I actually worry for the commenter a little and hope she’s okay.)

In any case, last summer when I told people I would be writing this blog, several family members took me aside to express concern.  My mass emails that were the forerunner of this blog had ventured into some pretty personal territory.  Should I be sharing such details about my kids?  Was it wise?  Was it safe?  Was it something a good mother should do?

I assured everyone that I was sensible enough not to embarrass my children (more than I do in public normally anyway) or share details of our lives that would be dangerous out in the interwebs.  I figure the blog is about my experiences, and I’m entitled to talk about myself all I want.  I’m not entitled to tell other people’s stories without permission, so I run posts by people I describe and show my children any pictures I post before I publish them.  That seems fair and it’s how I would like to be treated.  There is enough stuff in my own life to explore in writing that I never suffer writer’s block, and I have no problem being honest with strangers and friends alike, so I shouldn’t need to delve into certain areas that could be problematic to others.

But the truth is that by necessity I have to censor myself.  Some of the interesting aspects about my children I’m not at liberty to share, as much as I may want to.  Some things are just not mine to tell.

However!  That doesn’t mean I’m not busting at the seams to get certain things out.  I feel the need to over share, so I’ve come up with a solution.  Holding Down the Fort Mad Libs.  I’m going to spill it all and take out the incriminating bits and you can fill them in with whatever makes you laugh, cry, or think I’m brilliant.  Here goes:



I love Aden.  I really do.  But she still __________ and it makes me crazy!  No one can figure it out.  We’ve been discussing it with the ______ for years and she says ________ and _________, but nothing has helped.  We keep hoping she’ll grow out of it, but how many years can you keep saying that?  In the meantime her _________ is _________ and I have to __________ twice a day sometimes to keep up and it’s wearing me out.  I try to explain that the real issue is the ________, but she can’t separate that from the _________, and I’ve tried everything.  Neither the ________ or the internet is any help, because all the suggestions for solving the problem involve ____________ and Aden is not _________.  Who knows?  I’ll just cross my fingers and hope she really will ___________ eventually and we will look back one day and _________.


Quinn says ____________.  I’ve struggled with exactly how to handle this, and it’s so _________.  He could be ________ or ________ or _________, but he’s so young it’s impossible to know.   I’ve had several people I respect, including ________ and ___________, tell me that my job as a parent is to make good decisions for my son.  He doesn’t get to choose about being ________or where we _______or all kinds of important things that impact his life, but where do you draw the line?  It seems to me Quinn should have a choice about _______ even if he’s young because _________ is not ________ and I don’t get to __________.  It could impact _________ later, but kids change so quickly it might not matter by _________.  I think about it every day, but at least I’m sure that no matter what, Quinn is ________ and that’s what’s really important.


Mona is pretty much an open book.  The only thing I could reveal than would potentially embarrass her is that she ________.  It horrifies everyone.  But when I tally up the things about myself that I should change it’s way more than _______ so really, she’s ahead of the game.  But when _________ loses its appeal one day we will all be glad for it.  Especially my _________.


One of the hardest things about Ian being deployed is there are a lot of things it doesn’t make sense to bother him with.  He’s busy.  He’s _____.  So I can’t tell him ________ or ________ or how his ________ is __________ and then I __________ and then ________!!!!!  It’s probably best that I’m the one __________ is __________with, because that way Ian is still ____________, and really that’s the way it should be, but it’s still tough.  Another thing that makes it hard being away from Ian so long is that I wish _________ and __________ and that I could _________ all ___________ and ___________ with ______________, and even get out the ______________ again to ___________ with.  (If Ian’s reading this he’s enjoying that last censored bit.)


And just because my mom is always worried that I’m going to write some weird negative book about her for some reason, let me tell you about her!  My mom is __________, makes a mean _________ and can __________ like you wouldn’t believe.  And she’s _____! And ______! And incredibly __________!  I can’t believe when I was little that she __________, but now that I’m a mom I know that __________ was __________.  And I will always feel that way.


Well that feels good to get that out there.   Thanks for reading.  (And looking, because you can pretend there were some simply shocking photos with this post while you’re at it.)
Have a great day and may your ______ be ___________.  I really mean that.