green enough for me

stronger than the Army...

2012-05-23T11:02:00.000+02:00

There are moments in your life that you'll never forget.

I remember the day I met her- mom of two boys, a toddler and a little still-nursing babe in her arms.
I was a mom of one, almost two... my belly, still growing Cade.

She was a calm, loving mama of two boys, and had it all together.

I was run ragged, and wondering how I'd ever survive.

The seasons changed, babies were born, and deployment happened.

We celebrated homecomings, trudged through cloudy, gray days, and enjoyed sunshine at castles.

I learned her life was just as crazy-wild as mine, and ~~somehow, I survived~~ we survived together.

As I pulled away from her house for the last time earlier this week, she raised her hand- thumb out, two middle fingers folded down... sign language, for I love you.

I signed back and waved... averted my eyes to the road ahead.

I choked back tears, because my mom signs I love you to me, something I don't think I'd ever mentioned...

five years, five kids between us.
six, five, four, three, two.

strong husbands, by our sides.

friendships, stronger than the Army. (cheesy, yes. truth, absolutely.)

tschüß, dear friend.

can't wait to hug you in the u.s. of a.

leaving here

2012-05-16T16:27:00.002+02:00

David called asking for information for our ERD (Early Return of Dependents) paperwork.

My heart sank. This is all really happening.

The moving home this summer...

The ETSing (Expiration, Term of Service) from the military this fall...

The unknowns that follow that- job? roof? where?

He called again, said he needed a date. I asked what kind of date.

He said, a tentative fly date. "What's your preferred timeline?"

I blurted out a date in the middle of the summer.

I really wanted to say, never.

It's not the going home that's hard.
It's not the ETS that's hard.

It's the leaving here.

I know what going home means... It means family. It means familiar roads and laws, southern accents. It means hometowns, and cherry limeades, and no more international flights.

I know what ETSing means... It means no more Army bullshit, no more deployments, no more rank.

And while all of that will be nothing short of amazing...

I don't know what leaving here means.

This place, this post, this country has held my heart and my hand for a little more than half a decade.
This dirt holds our blood, our sweat, our tears.
These trees have seen our laughs and these walls have heard our anger.
My heart breaks here (deployments), but it also mends here (homecomings).
Our youngest was born here.
Our oldest has the perfect scar in the back of his head, sewn up by German hands.

I want to rip the paint off the wall and take it with us.
I want to dig up the dirt, the grass, the weeds and pack it in a neat little box and mail it back to Alabama.
I want to burn this fourth floor view into my eyes, so it'll never fade from my memory.

That Christmas my parent's visited, and my dad said this place was a different color green. I'd never said it out loud, because I thought it was a crazy thought... But I thought that, all those years ago when I first came to just visit...

I'm panicked. I'm heartbroken. I'm torn.
Our weeks here are numbered.

I want to drink it in, and not waste a drop.
I want to see and hold and touch.
I want to clutch this place in my arms and squeeze until it shatters...

I think, really...
It's just that...
In the future, a year or two, maybe ten, down the road...
If someone asks, "If you could be anywhere but here..."
There was a time, my answer would be, "Hawaii! Australia! ... London! Paris! Rome!"
I fear my answer will be, "Baumholder, Germany."

**I've tried for the better part of the afternoon, to find the words worthy enough... Our roots are in the South, naturally, that's home for us. But this place? It's magic. How do you leave magic?**

i promise they love each other

2012-05-14T17:08:00.001+02:00

from a few weeks ago, when they hid under the table, telling secrets

Austin climbs in a kitchen cabinet.

Cade closes the door on him.

Austin tries to open the door.
Cade pushes back with all his might.

The little kid is actually quite strong for a 3 year old.

The big kid screams, "Let me out! It's not funny! It's not funny, Cade!"

There are tears involved...

Then... Wham! The cabinet door hits the wall.

Austin caught Cade, distracted and weakened.

Cade flies across the kitchen and lands on his butt...

Austin climbs out laughing.
Cade cries, "It's not funny, Bubba!"

give, and let go...

2012-04-25T18:56:00.001+02:00

I was hollering at one boy to get out of the road, nudging the other to pull his back pack onto his back before he dropped it in a puddle.

Quietly pleading with them both to hold my hand! stay on the sidewalk! stop splashing! don't wander too far ahead! CAR!

And I saw her, with her littlest one all snug on her chest. She was walking with a friend, casually chatting about their day. Two little ones danced around them and her free hands grabbed the hand of her oldest, and I knew that feeling all too well.

She saw me, too... Her eyes met mine, her arms wrapped tighter around the baby all snug on her chest, and a smile graced her face...

I smiled back, and stopped micro-managing our five minute walk home from school...

----------

I sold my beloved Ergo a few weeks ago at our yard sale...

I came inside and told my husband, "I, uh, just sold my Ergo."

"Why'd you do that?"

"I'm not sure exactly. She asked how much- I didn't even have it out to sell, I had it out showing our neighbor how awesome it was... She had a babe and a toddler and it's cold and windy and her arms were full... And I just blurted out a price, and when she asked, 'are you sure?' I said, 'yes."

And just like that, I ended our babywearing days.

Truth be told, it'd been a few weeks since I'd pulled the Ergo out of the back of the car. Cade is three and quite capable of walking here and there. Austin is five and wouldn't be caught dead on his momma's back in a carrier with a flower on it.

But both boys are well under the suggested 45lb weight limit and I can't imagine taking an international flight, trekking through airports without one of the safely strapped to my back...

Then there's the whole thing where we live in Europe for only a few more months and exploring European cities and castles is no fun with a stroller, and even less fun with a tired three year old...

And just like that, I ended our babywearing days.

---------

I mourned that dang baby carrier for ~~weeks~~ days. I couldn't think about it without a knot in my throat and tears in my eyes.

It stung to plan a weekend away, and know we'd need to throw a stroller into the car just in case.

We have to leave a few minutes earlier to get to school pick up on time. I can't toss Cade on my back for the walk there anymore. I have nothing to toss him in.

When he misbehaves and refuses to walk on the sidewalk with his brother, I can't discipline him by scooping him up to safety onto my back again...

We went on an exciting weekend adventure recently and we didn't miss the Ergo. We survived. The boys had an absolute blast and I quietly let my fears go...

---------

And so, when I saw her today, with her baby snuggled in on her chest, I smiled and knew that she already loved my Ergo as much as we did- her little one safe on her chest and her arms free to pull the older one to safety.

That was me, once, not all that long ago.

But time marches on, and it changes things...

Mostly, it changes you.

You learn to let them wander a little farther away.

You learn to let them walk home with wet feet because they splashed in that puddle.

You learn to let go a little...

look-a-likes

2012-04-13T13:01:00.002+02:00

Left: Austin (2011), Right: David (1980something)

Left: Cade (2011), Right: Sidnie (1980something)

No doubt about it... They're ours.
Who do your kids look like?

Happy Easter!

2012-04-07T17:23:00.001+02:00

Frohe Ostern!

(our last in Germany)

For everyone. And for no one...

2012-04-04T19:45:00.002+02:00

It's amazing to me- that there are those that think their opinion is the only one that matters.

I often hear,
"Your husband needs to re-enlist. You have a family to think about." We are thinking about our family.

"There's no jobs in the real world." I'm confident we'll both find jobs, any job. And I'm pretty sure the real world extends beyond your world.

"You'll struggle too much." We're struggling now. You're point?

"You're not ready to raise your family alone." I'm pretty sure I've never felt more alone than raising two kids overseas with a deployed husband. We got this.

I've also heard,

"Some people aren't strong enough." You are, or would be, or could be strong enough.

"Why would you do that to your family?" We did this to our family- whatever "this" may be- because at the time it was the right thing for us.

"You chose this life, so you can't complain about it." My husband fought, is fighting for my freedom to complain.

"This life isn't for everyone." It's not that this life isn't for everyone, or that some people are, somehow, not qualified... It's that this life is for those who choose it, who sign the line- to serve, or to marry those who serve.

We, Americans, live in freedom, because people volunteer to take this on. To defend. to fight, to sacrifice. Because the families that are left behind, support their service members unconditionally.

This military life has hurt our family in ways I'll never share here.
But it's also given us a roof, a start... helped us find ourselves, and each other.

Want my opinion?
This [military] life could be for everyone.
At times, it's for no one.
But it is, and always will be, what you make it.
Then there may come a time, where you feel you've overstayed your welcome... and simply feel the need to move on.
There's nothing wrong with moving on. In the next breath, there's nothing wrong with staying put either.

As for us, we're moving on. We're choosing a different life. We're taking a risk.
Jumping, feet first.
We're confident we'll land on solid ground...eventually.

Ostermarkt

2012-03-25T21:54:00.000+02:00

Ostermarkt, St. Wendel

normal

2012-03-09T15:48:00.003+01:00

the one where we video chat in our own house, with each other.

Cade ~~asked~~ whined to call Daddy on the computer, because the phone needed to be charged.
I assured him that Daddy would be home for dinner, just a little bit longer.
But when a three year old wants to talk to his Daddy, he wants to talk to his daddy now...
except when he really just wants to play on the computer.

It hit me that the boys probably really missed talking on the computer.
Video chats were a weekly thing for us when David was deployed.
Most of the time, we chatted with David several times a week on the computer.
And then nearly two months ago, those video chats went away when he came home.

Today I made the boys a skype account (I'll *never* give them the password, promise!) and let Cade run to his room with the iPod to call me on my computer.
We talked for a few seconds, but mostly acted like monsters, and I'm reveling in this new normal...

This normal that has us video chatting in different rooms of this little apartment because we're all in one place. It has us stepping over each other and bickering... but when Austin comes home from school, he hugs his brother like he's been gone forever. And when David walks through the door after work, the boys hide and giggle until David finds them...

This new normal.
This normal I've dreamed of for years...

This learning, loving, dancing, living, and just. being. here. together.
Even if video chatting with each other in our (your?) own house is a little weird-
It can't be any more weird than David and I playing Words With Friends after we've crawled in bed at midnight on a Friday night...
Admit it. You do it too...

See? Normal.

steal a moment...

2012-02-29T20:51:00.000+01:00

The dishwasher is running. Dinner is only half-cooked.
I should be in the kitchen handwashing the sink full, and scrubbing counters down.
There's a load of laundry that needs to be folded.
I should ~~swap~~ rewash the laundry that's been in the washer for far too long.
Trucks zoom across the living room and hit the wall.
The boys are being too loud.
I should ask them to calm down, be gentler, use an inside voice.

Instead, I step over that pile of books, Cade's blankets, and the plastic animals that litter the floor.
I crawl next to my husband in his chair.
He kisses my forehead and wraps an arm around me.

I ask him about his day.
My head finds his shoulder and my eyes close.
I tell him about the funny things Cade said today.
We talk about what vegetable I should cook with the chicken for dinner.
I lace my fingers into his. I find his ring and spin it.
He hugs me tighter and we linger...There.
Here.

He's here.
I can touch him, and see him, and I fold his laundry.
I bicker because he marched into the house with muddy boots.
But. There's boots. Those boots are back in the middle of the floor and...
I don't care about the mud. Truly.

My eyes remain closed and I listen to his voice.
I remember what it was like to clutch a phone to my ear...
I remember tracing seam that runs down the side of the phone.
I'd trace it with my finger until my finger went numb.
My finger is numb now. I open my eyes and look... His ring. The line in his ring, I found it.

I smile.
I kiss his cheek.
I pull myself away.
Dinner needs to be cooked.
Bubba can help set the table, I think, as I pull four plates from the cabinet.

running late...

2012-02-24T14:11:00.007+01:00

He got new shoes for his birthday. I cringed at paying full price; we usually wait for a sale. But I knew he needed new shoes, and they were orange, his favorite.

I tossed the size eleven shoes in the buggy and told Cade that it was a secret for Bubba's birthday. The first thing out of Cade's mouth that day when we picked Austin up was "Bubba! We have secret, super-special shoes for you!"

Austin's worn his new shoes every day for the past twenty-two days. That's how many days I've been the mama to a five year old. He bounces and skips and jumps and runs everywhere he goes. I have to remind him to turn your shoes off before he enters his classroom every morning.

I worry every morning that we'll be late for school. Most mornings we walk, even though we could take the car. Buckling car seats to drive would probably take more time than simply walking. So we walk, and those bright orange shoes somehow get us to school on time. Austin calms me, "Momma. I'm wearing my super shoes. I won't be late." I resist the urge to tell him to stop bouncing, to hurry, and to zip his jacket already!

I get a kiss at the door. I remind him to turn his shoes off and I walk back home. I look at the clock at 10:45... I feel odd, like I've forgotten something. I remember... A half day at school. I was supposed to pick him up now. Cade and I throw shoes on and run down the stairs. That short walk to the school feels longer and longer with each passing step.

Austin's waiting at his classroom with a friend who asked his Mama if they could wait, too. I'm thankful my boy has good friends.

We're only six minutes late... But to a little one, it's forever, I think.
He asked where we were and I apologized for being late.
"That's ok, Momma. You can borrow my shoes next time!"

Hold me, Mommy.

2012-02-18T20:19:00.003+01:00

Austin was in school. David needed to deal with an issue with his cell phone contract in a nearby village, the very same village Bruce Willis was born in. So Cade and I wandered the familiar streets early Friday morning. It was cool and we were bundled up and Cade cried every time I tried to drag him into a store. He wanted to be outside, in my arms... I wished for the Ergo. Longed for it, actually, but it'd been months since he snuggled down into it and the trek to the car was far too long for him to reject that too.

We made faces at David in the window. There was a line inside the store and my heart raced thinking I'd made a mistake wanting to tag along on this errand. We'd have to wait it out in the cool morning air. There's nothing more fun than a crabby child and a long line...

"Mommy. Don't put me down. Hold me."

So I held my baby, my three year old- until my arms grew tired of holding and my legs grew tired of standing, and my eyes grew tired of the annoyed stares of passers-by.

Several old women would comment, "süß," or sweet, as I bounced and loved and tried to calm the fussiness- in him, and me. I smiled and nodded, and smiled again when their eyes turned sympathetic to the poked out lip on his tear stained face.

Finally, I sat on the cold cobblestone and pulled my camera out of my bag.

His tears faded and his finger clicked away.

"Show me, Mommy. Show me."

We talked about where everybody might be going.

We talked about the dogs on the leashes, and the one in the bag... And the grandad that pushed a wee one in a stroller.

Cade pointed out a red scarf and a green hat. And there were three boys with that mama, when really there were only two... But it got me thinking, maybe she's carrying a wee one in her belly, underneath all those layers.... Because sometimes kids know those kinds of things...

Cade fussed again when it was time to put the camera away. We snuggled for a minute more and David came out to find us. Cade stood beside us as I closed my bag. I bent to pick him up again and he pushed my arms away.

"I'll walk, Momma. Hold your hand?"

[The pictures in this post were taken by Cade, autofocus/no flash mode. I held tightly to the camera strap, helped him point while he clicked away.]

b. e. d. time

2012-02-08T20:49:00.000+01:00

This is what my computer time usually looks like,

and then I mention it's b. e. d. time.

And then two silly boys turn into wild indians...

We scare the monsters away...

And Momma gets bedtime hugs from her sweet boys!

Most nights, we read books- tonight we didn't because we started bedtime way too late...
Tonight, we tucked them into bed and held our breath for about 20 minutes until they were quiet and settled and, hopefully, asleep...

And the day is done.
Good Night.
the end

Kinder Eggs, Part 3

2012-02-06T15:10:00.000+01:00

make a wish...

2012-02-03T10:43:00.000+01:00

I wonder what this five year old wished for.

I hope all his wishes come true...

a whole hand

2012-02-02T19:56:00.010+01:00

Five years ago, this little guy changed my life forever.

He made me a mother.

I sent him to the nursery around 3 a.m. that first night because all I was doing was lying awake, staring at him sleeping.

He's next to me, looking at the picture below and sees his cowboy blanket, (the red and tan blanket in the top left corner of that picture down there)...

He tells me, "See, Momma. I had my cowboy blanket when I was a little baby. I don't need it anymore."

Mind you, this is one of four blankets he sleeps with every single night. If I folded it up and put it on a shelf or in a box, he wouldn't last but a night or two before he was asking where it was and why wasn't it on his bed.

I hardly remember those days. I look back at pictures and can't believe he was ever that tiny.
I remember he was a good sleeper, but I think that was mostly because he slept in my bed.
I couldn't get him to sleep with me now if I bribed him with candy.

Now he bounces around this house like he owns it. He answers the phone if it rings, knows how to call people on web cam, and usually climbs on the counter to find bagels before he comes to wake me up in the mornings. He's a morning person. We're not sure who he got that from.

This boy is a brother, an international traveler, a military child, a tree climber, a snuggler, and a wild one.
He's a stubborn fighter. His favorite color is orange and he requested a lemon cake for birthday.
He loves school, and would go on Saturday and Sunday if they'd open the doors. He picked out his purple rock-n-roll shirt at the PX, and saved it specifically for his fifth birthday.
It's a size 5, and the sleeves are too long. He doesn't care, because he's five now.
He's fearless and he knows his way around an emergency room.

He'll tell you he's a whole hand if you ask him how old he is.

He's been on this Earth for five years- half a decade.

Where did the time go?

He rarely meets a stranger. He'll ask you questions until you have no more answers to give.
Most of the time, he'll ask you a few more just to make sure.
He loves with his whole heart.
And he holds my hand when we walk to school...

Happy fifth birthday, Bubba! You are loved as big as the world.

Kinder Eggs, Part 2

2012-01-31T21:22:00.000+01:00

newfound freedom

2012-01-30T21:20:00.002+01:00

He's been home for 17 days... It took me 17 days to find this freedom...

Her: I think the boys are finally asleep. I really want to fold laundry and drink a coke, but I think we're out. Of cokes. Not laundry.

Him: Did you drink them all? There's a root beer in there.

Her: Ew! You know I don't drink root beer! I guess I'll just drink tea.

Him: You could go to the store and get one....

[Also? Will you help Coca-Cola save the polar bears? Because I really ~~need~~ want the red cans back... ]

Kinder Eggs, Part 1

2012-01-29T19:35:00.000+01:00

dancing...

2012-01-25T20:10:00.001+01:00

It seems as though I dance through my days more often than I realize.

A few nights ago, in the middle of angry words and hurt feelings, my husband and I cleaned the kitchen together.
Our little kitchen is barely wide enough for us to stand side by side in;
yet, we somehow stepped around each other without bumping, without being in each other's way.
I unloaded the dishwasher and he scrubbed counters,
and we moved with grace....
but spoke without it.
When the counters were clean and the sink was empty,
I was amazed at how seamlessly we did that...
How could we argue so harshly, so hurtfully;
but clean a kitchen together so well...

Today, when Austin came home from school, the house was fairly clean.
In the time it took us to do homework, eat dinner, and play before bed,
it was all a disaster again.
We had a plan- David would tuck the boys into bed and I'd start cleaning...
The boys had a different plan- they wanted me.
So I stopped cleaning, and tucked them.
David and I danced through the living room picking up toys,
and clearing the dinner table, and returning a stray child to his bed,
and back to the living room to fish trains from underneath the table....
and back to the bed rooms to quiet and comfort little boys...
and back to the kitchen to wipe counters...
and back to the hallway to warn a child to settle under the covers....

And we did this dance in and out of their rooms, into the living room, into the kitchen,
moving around each other, and turning together...
without even really knowing that we're doing it...

But we are.
We're doing this.
Together.
This dancing.
This living.

I hope it lasts forever.

then and now...

2012-01-18T10:47:00.000+01:00

Then, after a 14 month deployment to Iraq:

May 2009
Austin is 27 months old. Cade is 7 months old, to the day.

Now, after almost 11 months in Afghanistan:

January 2012.
Austin is a few weeks shy of 5 years old. Cade is 3 years, 3 months old.

airing our dirty laundry...

2012-01-17T09:45:00.006+01:00

Since I've already aired our "dirty laundry," I thought I'd also tell you that my husband came home to a broken dryer.
Last week, our housing office had sent someone to fix it. It couldn't be repaired, so we set up a time for it be replaced.
I sent two loads of laundry home with a friend and borrowed my neighbor's dryer for a few loads... Thank goodness for good friends; we wouldn't have clean underwear and towels without them!
But let's face it- Laundry is the last thing on my deployment to-do list, and it piles up.

Along with a broken dryer, my husband came home from deployment to a hallway piled high with dirty clothes.
Somewhere in all those dirty clothes are the socks he left here, that I've been wearing for the past ten months. I think it's time I buy myself some socks...
Yesterday, our dryer was replaced, and today, I must tackle the Mountain of Dirty Laundry... one load at a time.

bringing the war home...

2012-01-15T15:01:00.002+01:00

I mentioned yesterday that sometimes the real battles begin once the Soldier returns home...
R&R and Homecoming are often thought of in the light of romance and rainbows, and while yes, that is true, there are other feelings, emotions, and issues that can interrupt the happiness.

I want to share our lives with you; I want you to understand me, my actions, and my love for this wonderful man and the family we've created together. I want to be honest here in this space, but I also need to protect and respect our family's privacy.
For you to understand even an ounce of our life as a military family, I have to open up and let you in a little more than I have....

R&R was a rough two weeks for our family. What should have been a fabulous getaway to the beach, quickly turned into two weeks I don't even want to think about...
On day ten of our R&R, I made a decision that will forever affect our family. I packed my things, I packed the boys' things and we left the condo.

My husband spent the last four days of his R&R alone, in a condo at the beach. He had to take a shuttle to the airport to catch his return flight to Afghanistan.
I won't go into detail; I won't defend my actions- nor, will I defend his. In the same breath, I can't deny them either.
I will say that I know, get, understand what someone means when they say, "Soldiers never leave the war." I also understand what it means to say, "Soldiers leave one war and come home to another..."

David and I have spent the last five months trying to salvage our marriage and our hearts. We're both hurt and broken and co-dependent. We've tried to take things one day at a time, but really, we were holding our breath until Homecoming.
Our lives were on hold. There was nothing we could do, even if we had known what we wanted to do. Any decisions had to wait until he came home....

Yesterday, he marched into a gym and my eyes searched for him. As the sea of people dispersed, I still did not see him. I couldn't find his stride, nor could I find half-tilted patrol cap.

I stood there defeated, as families reunited around us. I stood in the middle of a crowded gym and could not find our Soldier.
My heart sank.
Where was he? Is this how our deployment ends?
I didn't want to move from where I stood in the middle of the gym floor, but I had to find him.

And then, after minutes of wondering what the hell was going on, he showed up- with a smile on his face and hugs for all of us.
(He was in the back of the formation and when he didn't see us, he walked outside to see if we'd wandered out there.... He found another soldier and called the house, when we didn't answer at home, he knew we'd be at the gym and he went back inside to find us.)

After reuniting with hugs in the middle of a now nearly empty gym, we buckled our boys into their carseats and we went home. Together.
If I'm being honest, I should tell you that a few months ago, I didn't know if yesterday would happen. I didn't know if we'd be in Germany for his Homecoming. I didn't know if he and I would hug and kiss in the middle of the gym floor, or if he'd simply scoop his boys up in his arms and that be that.

Some Soldiers never leave the war. My husband is one of them.
His Homecoming yesterday was filled with romance and happiness, but it's also filled with apprehension and worry. Our battles started yesterday, and I'm not sure when they'll end.

So while this deployment may be Praise! The! Lord! over, the hardest part has just begun....
Today? is Day 1.

[The photos above from Homecoming were taken by a dear friend. I, also, wanted to share that Kim Kravitz, a photographer and military spouse, was at our homecoming through Operation Love for a friend. She shared some amazing photographs of our family and the emotions I've shared here. ]

Welcome Home, Soldier.

2012-01-14T17:55:00.001+01:00

Deployment = Survived!

After (approximately, you know- who's counting?) 10 months, 14 days, 12 hours, and about 30 minutes, our Soldier is home. We shared our joy LIVE today through the MilFamHomecoming hashtag on Twitter. We are so blessed to have our Soldier home safe. Thank you to everyone for supporting us through this journey. Please continue to pray for those families that are still separated because of this war, and remember that sometimes the real battles begin once the Soldier returns home....
Much, much love, from our hearts to yours.

*the following was originally posted in february of 2011. nearly one year ago...

My left hand holds my rings.

While my left arm stings.

Permanent color of

A yellow ribbon, and

Liebe means love.

A testament of

faith, and strength.

Pain that means

something better is coming.

A fear of goodbye.

A longing for hello, again.

A love that started

with friendship.

A friendship that grew

into love, and love that

grew into family.

A soldier packs.

A family waits.

Permanent color of

a yellow ribbon

and Liebe.

Reminding me now

that love will pull me through.

Reminding me later

that if our friendship, our love

can survive deployment,

our friendship, our love

can survive anything.

We've survived it before.

We'll survive it again.

Even if it means,

I wear my heart on my sleeve.

nothing to do with strength

2012-01-09T20:16:00.004+01:00

Most days, I don't know what I'm doing. I think I've said that here before.

Saturday proved no different.
We spent four hours in the ER, because I thought Cade needed stitches.

Turns out he pretty much just cut a hunk of skin out of his finger.
A nurse practitioner cleaned his wound, applied ointment, and mummy wrapped his hand.
As we left, I felt embarrassed.

I could have done that.

I could and can do a lot of things.
But in the heat of that moment, in the thick of it...
I needed help.

I needed the reassurance from a medical professional that his finger was ok.

I need someone to tell me it's ok.
I need someone to hug me tight when I feel like breaking.

A few months ago, I needed a friend to sort through my laundry and show me where to put the clutter.
I had gotten so caught up in all of it, that I just couldn't see any of it.

I need to take Austin to school every day, because it means I get out of the house- twice a day.

Who cares that I throw clothes on and walk out the door... The point is that I walk out the door.

Deployment teaches us a lot about ourselves... about who we are and who we hope to be.
I hear, "I admire your strength," or, "You are so strong," more times than I care to count.
The thing is... It's not about strength. We all have the strength to survive anything.
It's just buried deep inside.
It's about asking for help when you need it, and just simply getting things done.
It's about perseverance and the will to keep going.

Here we are in the middle of the eleventh month, and I'm second guessing myself.
I'm tired and worn out.
So much waits for us on the other side of this deployment-
and I'm not even sure how I'll get there...

But this I know...

Cade needs a clean bandage twice a day.

Austin needs to be walked to and from school Monday-Friday.

Groceries need to be bought.

Bills need to be paid.

Playgrounds need to played on.

Friends need to be hugged.

The coffee shop will always sell me coffee.

Bedtime will come.

And this deployment will end.

I just gotta keep going....