Well, this sucks.

When I started this blog I never expected anyone to really read it. John, even as private as he is, considered this platform a blessing because it is a pathway to my thoughts. Thoughts that I probably wouldn't put in an email, but would blabber to the "world" in one of my random essays about how much deployment with two kids under two was crazy hard. So he would read my blog in port calls and probably compare my "we're doing great!" emails to "geez there isn't enough wine in the world" blog posts and just get an honest average of how we were really doing.

Then people started reading and people started recognizing me in our small little military world. I'm in no way famous, but as anyone in the military can attest to, this is a very small world. So become a blogger and a columnist in a small world and you quickly start becoming recognized. I have had a few creepy moments along the way, but none that would cause me to panic and delete the blog.

That said, with ISIS and threats to military families becoming more and more relevant in the last two years, I have often paused about how safe I was being. Now, I'm not going to dive into a bunker anytime soon and change my name, but I was aware of my own public persona possibly being a danger to the kids and I. Then Paris happened, John deployed the following day, and I felt a little scared. And then we discovered that someone had stolen the pictures from my blog and created "me" on Facebook. CREEPY. That was the straw that broke the camel's back. It wasn't me panicking because of one thing, it was a series of concerns with a gigantic cherry on top.

It isn't what I want. This is deployment where shit is real and where my readers get a glimpse into the crazy, hard, sad, fun, confusing normal that military families go through. I think it's important when 99% of the country has no "skin in the game" for some of us to talk about how it is to be in that 1%. Also, it's therapeutic for me to write and get feedback - positive and negative - throughout. So me locking down my blog was a sad thing to do. The plan is to open it back up when John returns, and hopefully the ways of the world will make it reasonable to do that next summer.

Anyway, if you are reading this, I appreciate it! Feel free to comment here now - nobody is reading except vetted friends, family, and military spouses. I do appreciate comments - even if they tell me to put on my big girl panties and deal with it. Sometimes I need that!

Cheers, everyone! Thanks for sticking with me.

Today.

Today I said goodbye. It was the day that we anticipated and dreaded for so many months.

Today I had to tell my heartbroken 6 year old daughter that it was more than 30 days, more than 100, more than 200 days.

Today I stood on the beach with my military spouse sisters and waved goodbye. To what they are flying toward we don't know, and what adventures we will have when they are away is also a mystery. But today we stood shoulder to shoulder as our spouses go to fight as brothers.

Copyright: Lesley Watt

Today and every day we are a family.

Today my 5 year old son asked me with wide eyes if he was the man of the house. And today I still don't know a good answer to that question. He wants to be a big guy, but today he is still so little and I want him to feel free from stress.

Today we listened to the familiar hum of the Hawkeye engines taking our loved ones away. Today we start the countdown and look forward to that sound again when they'll be returning safe and sound.



Today I am grateful. Grateful for the friends in my life who understand, who encourage, and who love without bounds. For treats left on porches, wine between friends, the sounds of our kids playing happily while we absorb and process the day.



Today it was me. Tomorrow it will be another family somewhere in the world.

Today is day 1. One day down.

We have been celebrating our squadron change of command this week and with that comes lots of tradition, parties, ceremony, and acronyms. COW (Commanding Officers Wife) is one of the most lovingly used yet greatly confused acronyms of all. Our new COW has been posting pictures on Facebook with her black and white gifts and decorated lawn. The comments of course ranging from happy congratulations to "why on earth are you celebrating being called a cow?!?" We realize that in the civilian world, calling your husband's boss' wife a COW would be not-such-a-good idea. In the Navy, it is invited and lovingly received.

I love the COW tradition and think it is a fitting and fun way to celebrate new command families. Our new COW works hard to make sure our squadron functions like a family. This is especially important right now as we are staring a deployment square in the eye.

On Saturday we had Kim's COW party. Our Officers Spouses Group (OSC) put a ton of time, thought, creativity and love into the ideas and gifts. We decided on a Moo-au - a Hawaiian themed COW party. A fun mixture of island colors and food, with black and white cow décor mixed in. It may sound like a hot mess, but our secret OSC Pinterest board quickly grew with amazing ideas and the party came together moooo-velously. There wasn't one person  that did everything; each person in our group contributed their skills, time, money, and creativity.

Welcome to the Moo-Au










 


 
 

I've been downplaying our upcoming deployment by reminding myself that my children are older. They don't need me for everything anymore. I'm not breastfeeding, they can both walk, they can tell me what they want (which is a blessing and a curse), and diapers have long left my Amazon Mom subscribe and save list. The season of carrying babies, pushing a stroller, lifting, feeding, rocking to sleep for hours, up for 2 am nursing sessions, rinse and repeat has passed. Deployment will be easier. We have a new chapter now. One of school days, extracurricular activities, religious education, and... nevermind...

Parenthood doesn't get easier. It just changes. It is this crazy changing, morphing, challenging, fun journey that never quite gets easy. Just different. And so while this deployment won't be defined by diapers and naps, it will have it's own unique set of challenges and trials.

As I've been trying to piece the puzzle of my life for next school year together I am starting to have palpitations. And anger. And bemusement. How the hell is Kate supposed to dance twice a week, have soccer, go to her Catholic preparation classes, do homework, and have fun with her friends. And oh yea, I've got two kids. So poor second child gets nothing? So I sign him up for something and all of a sudden I feel like a failure because I've become that mom that overschedules her 4 and 6 year olds. No, I've overscheduled myself. I'll be doing this solo. Oh yea, I'm supposed to cook dinner and bath them and read books every day too. I'm already exhausted and I haven't completed one single day of this possible schedule.

I'll have more me time. Last time, I had not one hour to myself during the week unless I paid a sitter $12/hour. I did that once per week so I could occasionally run an errand alone or go to a doctor's appointment or just stare into a cup of coffee and drink it while it was hot. They weren't even preschool age yet. Connor was a chubby baby who couldn't crawl when John left - and walked only a month after he returned. Kate turned 2 a few months after he left. Those of you who read my blog back then know that many days I survived by the skin of my teeth. And wine. And some great friends who sometimes drove long distances to hold a baby while I took a shower longer than 5 minutes.

This time, I will have a first grader and a TKer (California lingo for PK kids whose birthdays just miss the Kindergarten deadline). They will both be at school M-F for about 6 hours. That is HUGE! I'll have time to run errands, keep the house from looking like a tornado blew through, and exercise.

But it is everything else that is giving me anxiety. How will I make sure it all gets done? And honestly, the other thing that's been weighing on me is that I feel really lonely already. In a perfect world, I do believe it takes two people to parent. Obviously it isn't that way for everyone. Women put on their big girl panties every day and make it happen for their kids. I will too. But as I stare at all of these screens to register my kids for various things, I want to look across the room and ask "hey, could you take Kate to soccer on Wednesdays at 5:30 while I make dinner?" or "Would you like to coach Connor's flag football team?" Normal, everyday parenting discussions. But that chair across the room is empty and will be empty for the better part of the next year. He's feeling awkward because while he isn't totally checked out on the things going on at home, he doesn't feel like his opinion really matters since it's up to me. All of it is on me.

And so while he's flying long days, debriefing at midnight, and tired the next day it is pretty hard for me to convince him that my worries over church vs. dance vs. soccer are important. But they're important to me. And also, in the midst of all of this caring for others (which is the name of parenthood, I get it), I wonder if I'll lose myself in all of this. Will he return to a shell of his wife because I spend the next 10 months literally living in my snazzy minivan going from point A to B to C?

Just things on my mind lately. Not sure how I'm going to deal with the gridlock I'm facing. If you have any words of wisdom, leave it in the comments.

Almost 10 months ago I stood on family beach at Point Mugu and watched a group of my dear friends and their kids wave goodbye to their husbands and daddies. They knew it was going to be a long deployment; one of the longest carrier deployments since Vietnam. And with the majority of the fight with ISIS being limited to air power, they knew their husbands were flying into the fight.


It was a strange experience standing on the beach with them. I was invited to capture those moments, but I still felt like I needed to keep a safe distance. Like an unwanted fly on the wall I was invading their intimate moment. I was going to go home to my husband, they weren't. What the hell was I doing there? So I stood way back, dug myself in the sand, and happened to get the lucky shot above.

Goodbyes seem to be more private than Hellos in the military. We all think about the homecomings; we love those photos, YouTube videos, and articles. Even though only 1% of the country serves in the military, 100% have watched the heartwarming surprise homecomings and reunions on television. But as they fly away, as a plane or ship becomes a black dot on the horizon, most have never seen or contemplated in their day to day lives. You don't see many photos of families sitting on the beach watching a ship steam away. It's sad. And as a military spouse myself, I find photographing the comings and goings of military personnel very draining. I've been where they are, I will be where they are again.

Wednesday morning, after what seems like yesterday and a million years ago at the same time, I was lucky enough to photograph the fly in of the VAW 116 Sun Kings. Because Point Mugu is the ultimate military fish bowl (love it or hate it!), I have gotten to see many friends go through countless ups and downs this past 9 months. They have all done amazing things and really thrived. They have all had days where they wanted to throw stuff and drink all the wine.

Some of the kids have grown so much that they are almost unrecognizable; something that makes me so sad that I can barely write about it. My own husband has left a small baby and come home to a toddler. It really is one of the most bittersweet moments describable when a service member comes home to a child that he or she misses desperately, but that baby has grown and changed. Time does not stand still.

Homecomings themselves can be bittersweet. They are happy, but they are also sad in their own way. They are a relief from anxiety and worry but a reminder that not everyone gets homecoming. And they are the beginnings of reintegration, a piece of deployment that all too often isn't discussed or taught. Photographing homecoming shouldn't be about getting "happy happy happy" (which is often how the media portrays it). It should be about attempting to illustrate the immense emotional experience that happens when your loved one returns from war. It is messy and complicated and beautiful.



 

Thank you, military spouses.



In the sea of "I don't know how you do its", you are the ones who say "you can do it!" You know that empathy beats sympathy every single time.


While the rest of the world forgets about a deployment or a detachment (because most can't fathom how long they are really gone), you are the one with the wine, chocolate, and shoulder. Often and always. You understand paper chains and M&M countdowns. Homecomings aren't just youtube videos to you.


You are the easiest friends I have ever made. You are the most generous, thoughtful, and wonderful.


You are adventurous. Most people can't fathom your organizational skills, creativity, and willingness to move across country or around the world into the land of the unknown. With an open heart and an optimistic outlook you learn new cultures, deal with rejection, and celebrate the first time you drive on the "wrong" side of the road. Even if you do mistake the windshield wipers for the turn signal the first 10 outings.



Your friends list is never full. You don't discriminate. You are a master of all trades. You know that Murphy's Law is TRUTH and can fix a dishwasher, change a tire, and rock power tools.


"You just wait until your dad gets home" is not a phrase you ever utter. You handle it. While you aren't a single parent, you are a professional solo parent.


Most importantly, you are the light. You hold down the fort. Your children know you are their constant, your friends know you are dependable, and you absolutely are a vital part of the military complex. Without you, believe me, things would quickly fall apart.


Thank you, military spouses. Today and always. You are the best sister wives.

Four months ago I blogged about this year being "the year of workups". We've been pretty lucky in that things have started slowly and we have a few shorter periods of time away before things get crazy. Like a slow drip drip drip to prepare for the deluge that will inevitably hit us later this spring and summer.

Work ups inevitably stir up memories and anxiety for me. It is pretty easy to live my life day in and day out without a care in the world and then *bam* I remember why this life can make me jittery and things start to unravel a bit in my mind.

Almost exactly 7 years ago, in the midst of work ups almost exactly like these, a helicopter went down in Fallon, NV during a training exercise that my husband was flying in. It was my husband's first brush with death up close - in the plane they were there, communicating and participating - and then *poof* no contact. And it was his first experience planning a mission with a group of guys that didn't come back for the debrief. A learning experience both for him and for me. It was also one of the first times I saw a headline and held my breath because the type of aircraft (Seahawk) just happened to share a name with my husband's squadron at the time (the Seahawks). A coincidence that was absolutely and totally paralyzing while I wasn't in contact with John.

I've said it a million times, writing this blog is cathartic. I have come to appreciate the military spouse following I have and I do try to keep everything pretty upbeat and (hopefully) helpful. But I am also a real military spouse, and as we inch closer to deployment I can't promise everything will be neat and brave. I get scared. And when I get scared, I often write.

Thanks for listening, I appreciate you all out there.

Yesterday a bunch of my USMC friends messaged me that a blog post I wrote last year about CACO notifications and social media was making the rounds again in the wake of the helicopter crash in Florida. It isn't lost on me that because of that post my blog gets very "popular" when tragedy strikes in the military aviation community. And honestly, I have very mixed feelings about that. On one hand, I don't want to become the face of loss in our community. I write this blog for many reasons - some selfish (it's therapeutic for me to write and reflect) - and some because I hope that every once in awhile someone reads my words and goes "me too!" or "thank god I'm not alone!". Not to be the one who pops up on Facebook feeds when the worst happens. That truly gives me the heeby jeebies in a macabre way. But I also think the message is important and worth hosting so I am coming to terms with the fact that this may become something I have to be okay with.

Theresa and I are both glad people are still reading her message about being gentle with social media and speculation in the wake of incidents in our community. The article was written to be read and spread and thought about. It is also meant to be discussed and debated. I still get emails from people who either strongly agree or strongly disagree with the message that Theresa and I are trying to spread. Some think that raging against the machine of social media is fruitless and we should all just accept that finding out via Twitter or Facebook that our loved one is missing or dead "is what it is". Some find comfort in the idea that we should try and remain quiet and sit on our hands until we know families have been notified properly. Opinions and debate are healthy and good. As for Theresa, she has been working hard with Gold Star Families to try and remediate the outdated and slow CACO process and bring it into the 21st century reality.

Last year I wrote an article for Military Spouse Magazine regarding social media and CACO notifications. Theresa helped me by generously sharing her thoughts and opinions (again) with the hopes of making this horrific time a little easier for the next men and women who will have to endure it. I never linked it here, but in light of the incident Tuesday I thought it was relevant.

Article in full: http://militaryspouse.com/coping/racing-facebook-respecting-the-power-of-social-media/

My thoughts and prayers are with the families and friends of the 11 service members killed Tuesday night. May they rest in peace.

Happy New Year!

I hope all of you are doing well and setting into the fresh new year. It is a balmy 81 degrees right now (at 10 AM) and I still haven't quite gotten used to the no season thing out here in California. Don't get me wrong though, I love it. Aside from a grumpy October (too hot for my "basic bitch" pumpkin spice lattes) I have just adored the idea of always being outside, having windows open, and enjoying unlimited Vitamin D.

Every blogger I know wrote something about resolutions. I don't have any resolutions, really. As I become older I realize that resolutions never really stick for me and it is just a matter of making changes as they present themselves. I've started a 365 project to help keep me active with my camera, and hopefully, assuming my lovely editor doesn't fire me, will be writing more at "Military Spouse Magazine" this year. So my two favorite hobbies of writing and photography will grow this year.

The biggest change this year will come in the form of work ups. Or should I say Work Ups. It feels heavy on my heart so I feel like I should pronounce that phrase with more emphasis. Maybe in some spooky font.


There, that's better.

Work ups are the typical training rotation that happens before a Navy unit (air wing, carrier strike group, etc) deploys. The general public tends to think that the units are either home or away. Lots of fanfare over departures and homecomings, but not much about the long cycle of in and out that precedes them. It isn't just deployment that turns family life over on it's head and means a lot of time away. It is the preparation for said deployment that is really tumultuous. As of my veteran Navy wife friends said to me a few days ago, "if you can survive the tempo between now and November, deployment will be a piece of cake." Sadly, that's true.

This isn't our first rodeo. John has done three previous deployments and we've done work ups before. But as our kids get older and more aware of the presence of their daddy, the ins and outs of training and exercises tax them more and more. Which, of course, taxes me more and more.It sounds cliche, but the burden has shifted from me (mental and physical task of getting two babies through the last deployment) to my kids.  Connor, our four year old son, will call out for John in his sleep when he's away. Kate, our five year old, just pretty much wants her daddy around 24/7. Even the work day is an inconvenience to her. I've become more seasoned and definitely don't pine away for my husband (sorry, sweety!) the way I did when we were 23 year old newlyweds and facing down our first deployment, but having to carry my kids through this experience is going to be a new emotional experience.

I won't be changing any diapers but I will be wiping many tears.

And so 2015 will pretty much be defined by the ins and outs of work ups. It's condensed and complicated; he'll likely be gone a total of 6 months between now and the end of the year when they are scheduled to deploy. And then we have the, ya know, actual deployment. Right now that is scheduled to be about 8 months. Don't count all those months, it literally makes me nauseous to try and digest that all at once. One month at a time, one thing at a time.

I started writing this blog when John deployed in 2011. This was my safe place, a place to write it all out at the end of a marathon day. I love looking back on those posts. Hopefully, this place can be that haven again. Hopefully you will all bear with me. I'll be looking for silver linings, for growth, gratitude for the great community I have around me, appreciation for the fact that I live in a neighborhood that does my yard work, three cheers for two kids who will be in school daily. Lots of things I know not everyone has. I promise not to be a damsel in distress.

My friend Karen's husband left her a gift when he was going through an equally challenging time in the Army. Just a patch on the kitchen counter with a message that I will be using to help me through.