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By Alyssa, March 3, 2010 10:25 pm

I’m trading in my PB & J encrusted outfits (thanks to my 18-month-old) for boots and Army camo as I head off to train with my National Guard unit tomorrow.  I was going to write a long, witty post to keep you entertained for the next few weeks, but honestly, all I can think about is leaving my sweet little boys.  Hard to believe that three years ago about this time I was saying goodbye to then 18-month-old Bubba as I left for my second deployment to Iraq.  This time is definitely not as painful, but it still isn’t fun.  I’m going to miss Hubby and those boys.

*Sigh* If you want to count down the days until I’m home too, you can make a handy paper chain like this one:

Took Hubby three days to notice it next to the fridge.  He asked me who was going to read the notes to Bubba.  Silly Hubby, along with taking care of our house and the children and your job, of course, you’re going to read my little notes to our son.  He was excited… I think.  Anyway, 17 little paper chains until I’m back with my boys.  The countdown begins…

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By Alyssa, March 1, 2010 11:54 am

For some reason as a kid, I never got a temperature when I was sick.  This characteristic meant a lot more time at school than I liked.  I could be ready to launch my breakfast at any moment, but, unless I had a fever, my parents sent me off to class. Whenever I was feeling crumby, I tried to ensure a sick day by sneaking the thermometer up to my nightstand lamp prior to the verdict.  You know, the old “light-bulb-to-thermometer” trick.  ”Seriously, I don’t feel good, Mom!” I would lament as she dragged me toward the school bus, shaking a 107 degree reading. More than once, I remember getting to school super sick and having to be sent back home. Don’t think that a fever meant a doctor’s visit either.  You had better be half-dying before my parents took you to the doctor.

I rarely get sick, but because of my upbringing, when I do it takes a lot for me to visit a doctor’s office.  The Army didn’t help that cause either.  In order to go to the doctor, a soldier has to report to “sick call” in the morning.  Sick Call at the medical clinic starts at 6:00 a.m., conveniently right before Physical Training begins at 6:30 a.m.  Reporting to Sick Call means standing in line with a bunch of other half-awake peeps in wrinkled Army physical training uniforms, most of which came to Sick Call to get out of a 4 mile run at 6:30.

When you really are sick there is nothing worse than waiting a ridiculous amount of time before seeing a Physician’s Assistant (P.A.) that could care less how many times you threw-up this morning, assumes that you are hung-over, and sends you back to work right after giving the infamous Army get-well instructions. Drink water and take some ibuprofen.  I kid you not, there was a time in my life when I was crapping blood and the Army doc’s diagnosis was for me to eat more salads and drink more water.  Nice.  Probably more than you wanted to know about me, too.  The only time I was ever given quarters, a military term meaning you get to stay home for a sick day, was after I started working on an Air Force Base (typically Air Force doctors believe more whining).

Soooo, it would come as no surprise that after about a week of feeling awful, Hubby had to BEG me to go to the doctor yesterday.  Sprawled out on our bed, I moaned through a pile of pillows, “I don’t need to pay some dude to tell me to drink more liquids and take Advil.”  Because I am less than enjoyable when I’m ill, Hubby didn’t let up until I was out the door headed to the closest “doc-in-the-box”.  Imagine my surprise, when I walked into a very pleasant waiting room, saw the doctor in less than 10 minutes, and left with antibiotics. Seriously, you don’t want me to explain all of my many symptoms so I can convince you that my body may need more than water and ibuprofen? I thought as the doctor wrote my prescription.

Let me know if you ever want me to bring out my government health care soapbox.  Let’s just say when I walked back in the front door only an hour after leaving the house, I thanked Hubby for making me go and told him, “You know, it’s kind of good not being full time Army anymore.”

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By Alyssa, February 25, 2010 9:53 pm

So I’m nervous.  For the last year and a half, I’ve squeezed in Army one weekend a month.  I played Army with the National Guard two or three days out of the month before coming home to pick-up mom responsibilities.  Next month, I’ll be full time Army for two weeks.  Full time Army away from my family.  Full time Army in another country.

I’m pretty much set-up to go, packed up most of the Army gear, prepped notes for leaving the kiddos with Nana.  Now, I can’t help but think about all the possible ways I could screw up those two weeks full time Army.  I’m realizing that although I’ve perfected some great skills over the last 18 months, like how to juggle two toddlers and four packages in line at the post office or ways to reward your four-year-old for NOT throwing up on the carpet, they don’t really transfer over to Army business.

Do I still know how to give a good old boring Army briefing?  Can I even remember half of the Army acronyms or how to disassemble a 9mm handgun?  Am I going to be that Army mom that can’t shut-up about her kids and blah blah blah about potty training and teething?  I love raising my kiddos, but I’m not sure whoever is stuck with me in a secured bunker is going to want to hear all about it.

*Sigh*

I think the hard thing for me is that I’ve found I love this mommy gig more than the Army.  Can I make it two weeks without story time and morning snuggles?  I know there have to be other moms out there that dreaded that first day back at the office.  So tell me, what did you do to get back in the game?

P.S. Let’s pray I’m healthy before I head out.  Everyone in this house is currently on antibiotics, but I’m powering through with a slight head cold.  Immuno-mom prevails!

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By Alyssa, February 23, 2010 11:03 pm

Seed Catalogs

Missed Part I?  Click here.

I almost broke the first rule of beginning gardening.  START SMALL!

As the seed catalogs came in the mail, I found excuses to visit my backyard and dream about my future plot of greenery.  With every visit, I had a new idea. I’d build this and then move that and then buy this and… yeah, I got a little out of control.  Thank goodness I’m married to the most logical, non-emotional decision maker I know.  Hubby looked over my plans, listened to my ideas, gave small suggestions, and then, when I mentioned the cascading ivy, wild flower sanctuary, and waterfall, he put his foot down.  One vegetable garden this summer, one, uno, that’s it.  I persuaded, then ranted, then threw a mini-fit, followed by a major fit… and, well, did the only thing I could do in this type of situation.  As the mature one in our relationship, I stormed out like a teenage girl, thought about everything for a bit, and, decided he was right.  I’m such a great wife.

If I want to set myself up for gardening success this year, I have to force myself to start small.  This means no herb garden and half the garden size I originally intended to grow. Check out the new plan (Yes, I used red to show my bleeding ideas, killed until next summer.  Can you say, Drama Queen?):

I’ll still be building the kid’s sandbox (well, er… assisting Hubby in the construction) and moving the doghouse, but everything else is going to wait until next summer.  I know at the very least I want to grow cucumbers, tomatoes, and squash, but I’m still rethinking the smaller garden.  I did narrow down the seed catalogs to heirloom seeds only and decided to use Seed Savers Exchange.  To be honest, the only reason why I chose Seed Savers is because Barbara Kingsolver, my absolute favorite author, uses their seeds in her garden.  Quite the logical decision, right?

I may have lost the war on my ridiculous garden plans, but I did win one battle.  Hubby’s buying me a pretty sweet composter from Costco.  It’s his logical answer to yet another one of my crazy ideas.  Wait, did I just put sweet and composter in the same sentence?  I’d say it’s time to go to bed.  Garden plot plans coming soon!

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By Alyssa, February 19, 2010 8:46 pm

Step 1:
Order a new, unshaped beret from some Army website and forget that you can now order pre-shaped berets for only a few dollars more.  Argghh.
Step 2:
Purchase, or dig out from under your bathroom sink, several disposable razors to shave beret. With firm strokes starting in the center and circling toward the outside of the beret, shave beret until wool is smooth without fuzz.

Step 3:
Repeat Step 2 for at least 45 minutes as you think of one hundred and fifty-five more important things that you could be doing instead of shaving a wool cap. Discard your dull razor and dig out a new razor as you continue Step 2.  Wool fluff pile should be the size of a softball at this point.
Step 4:
Turn your beret inside out and use disposable razor #3 to shave the inside of your beret. You don’t want those little fuzzies in your hair after taking the beret off. Verbally chew yourself out loud for not purchasing pre-shaved and shaped beret while attempting not to wake napping toddlers.

Step 5:
Wet down beret with warm water in the kitchen sink.  WARNING: VERY HOT OR BOILING WATER WILL SHRINK BERET.  Do not soak, but moisten enough so that wool appears pliable.  If shaved correctly, a slight circular pattern should appear on the beret, like this:

Step 6:
Wear wet beret around the house while it forms to your huge noggin.  Explain to your four-year-old why you weren’t smart enough to purchase a pre-shaped beret as you make him lunch with wet beret on your head.

Oh, and take unattractive self-portrait documenting progress.
Step 7:
When beret feels only slightly damp, place on counter or area out of 18-month-old’s grasp and allow beret to dry completely.

Step 8:
Several weeks later, remember that you still haven’t finished beret for drill in the morning. Oops.  Quickly sew on unit flash (you know, the little patch that goes on the front of your beret?).  If sewing machine is unavailable, find someone that has one (takes a little less than 38 seconds to sew on), or get ripped off… ahem, pay an alteration shop to sew yours on for $5.

Flash stitching view from the inside of beret

Step 9:
Label your beret tag and cut off remainder of tag so your peers will never find out how fat your head actually is (7 and 1/2… seriously???).

Step 10:
Finally, tie beret headband string into a knot and cut off ends.  If you used really hot water and find that your beret is now a size smaller (Awww, MAN!), cut off knot and pull on headband praying the leather will give a little for your gargantuan cranium.

Now celebrate a good wasted four hours by impersonating that Sergeant Major who always tried to look tough by wearing his beret like this…

Or wear your beret like that almost worthless 2nd Lieutenant that you despised training…

But really, you know that you’re supposed to wear your beret like this (ignore the “not-in-regulation” hair and earrings)…

Hope you had as much fun as I did!  Now to bed.  Gotta earn this maroon airborne beret by jumping out of a plane in the morning!