Tyrone and I...
took this little girl (and her snoozing sister)
to the playground.
because it was beautiful
outside today.
They played
on the swings
while we waited on the boys to get home.
Then, they chased the boys
all the way home.
cherishing this
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
to the playground.
outside today.
They played
on the swings
while we waited on the boys to get home.
Then, they chased the boys
all the way home.
this is hard
I start to post something several times a day...and then I don't know what to say. I feel like always being happy-go-lucky is a lie and not a true representation of our life. But I feel like talking to much about our heavy hearts is not always right.....we are sad at times, but haven't lost our joy. And I don't want to overwhelm my blog readers with my (at times) overwhelming emotions....but I also don't want to not document this journey. I looked back on my entries leading up to Tyrone's first deployment and there was almost nothing of substance, nothing where my past self told my present self that I had felt this way before and made it through....so, here I am :)
I cannot say, of course, when the exact date is, but our time with Tyrone at home is short. Very, very short. Sometimes it is a little hard to breathe....I look at him and try to memorize what it's like....every nuance of him being here in this house. I imagine looking up and NOT seeing him there and try to do myself the favor of living in the moment and enjoying what I have right this second.
His deployment date has actually changed several times and one of the dates has come and gone already....which is hard. I love the extra time with him, but to prepare the kids and my own heart to say goodbye and then to have the date set, changed, extended, put back to the original, and then pushed to the right is wearing, although that is the military life in a nut shell....hurry up and wait!
Part of my anxiety is that I am having a hard time picturing what our life without Tyrone here is going to look like. He is so much a part of everything I do, and is, I feel, the cornerstone of our family, that our lives will look very different. We will find our balance, but it's nerve racking to have that looming on the horizon but to be unable to truly prepare for it. Last deployment we moved home, and securing our house and moving our things took a good month and distracted me for a while....I don't have any such huge projects now. Life as normal.
I think that, more than anything, I am dreading the first night. The night when I have to come back and be alone...well, with the kids, but alone. When all I will feel like doing is crying and screaming, but of course I won't be able to. The one night where an entire year still looms before me and my heart and soul are raw from sending my love, my best friend, to war.
After that, I think it will be okay. After that night, we'll start to find our new groove. We'll cry and we'll be sad, and we won't know what's going on in the world because the news is too disturbing, but we'll be okay, and we'll have started our countdown. But that one night....I wish I could skip over it.
I cannot say, of course, when the exact date is, but our time with Tyrone at home is short. Very, very short. Sometimes it is a little hard to breathe....I look at him and try to memorize what it's like....every nuance of him being here in this house. I imagine looking up and NOT seeing him there and try to do myself the favor of living in the moment and enjoying what I have right this second.
His deployment date has actually changed several times and one of the dates has come and gone already....which is hard. I love the extra time with him, but to prepare the kids and my own heart to say goodbye and then to have the date set, changed, extended, put back to the original, and then pushed to the right is wearing, although that is the military life in a nut shell....hurry up and wait!
Part of my anxiety is that I am having a hard time picturing what our life without Tyrone here is going to look like. He is so much a part of everything I do, and is, I feel, the cornerstone of our family, that our lives will look very different. We will find our balance, but it's nerve racking to have that looming on the horizon but to be unable to truly prepare for it. Last deployment we moved home, and securing our house and moving our things took a good month and distracted me for a while....I don't have any such huge projects now. Life as normal.
I think that, more than anything, I am dreading the first night. The night when I have to come back and be alone...well, with the kids, but alone. When all I will feel like doing is crying and screaming, but of course I won't be able to. The one night where an entire year still looms before me and my heart and soul are raw from sending my love, my best friend, to war.
After that, I think it will be okay. After that night, we'll start to find our new groove. We'll cry and we'll be sad, and we won't know what's going on in the world because the news is too disturbing, but we'll be okay, and we'll have started our countdown. But that one night....I wish I could skip over it.
jump
Emmeline got a jumperoo today and she is soooo loving it! She bounced and sucked on her fist and made eyes at the little bear toy until she went cross eyed and was ready to pass out!
Sunny
Friday, March 26, 2010
We got a dog today! This is Sunny. She is a Corgi...maybe she and Monty need a playdate!! She was at animal control and is a delight. She has beautiful manners, I'm sure her owner misses her, but they tried to find them and couldn't. So, she is ours now! The boys don't even know about her yet, they will be so surprised!
shiloh's daddy date!
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Soooo excited, giving me her cheesy face, waiting on Daddy to get ready!
Daddy's ready, about to walk out the door....
Daddy took her out to eat, just the two of them at Applebee's. He texted me this pic. She had so much fun!
Daddy's ready, about to walk out the door....
Daddy took her out to eat, just the two of them at Applebee's. He texted me this pic. She had so much fun!
first day of spring cookout
We had some friends over yesterday for a cookout....we ate, the guys played ball with the kids, and they even got some Xbox playing in. Nice way to spend a Saturday!
Shiloh was something of a ball hog...
Not sure what position Tyrone was playing?
Dawn and Josh even brought MJ, which is always fun. She is so patient with the kids, they love being able to play with her!
A Josh self portrait, lol
Shiloh was something of a ball hog...
Not sure what position Tyrone was playing?
Dawn and Josh even brought MJ, which is always fun. She is so patient with the kids, they love being able to play with her!
A Josh self portrait, lol
playing outside!
Thursday, March 18, 2010
It is a beautiful, sunny 50 degrees out! So, the girls and I went out back to play. This is the first time Emmeline has hung out outside not in the pouch, and she LOVED it, she was fascinated by everything around her.
Shiloh had so much fun blowing bubbles and running around! I feel like a new (still tired, but happier!) person after playing outside with my girls!
I love this next picture a lot!
Shiloh had so much fun blowing bubbles and running around! I feel like a new (still tired, but happier!) person after playing outside with my girls!
I love this next picture a lot!
the dogs
Wednesday, March 17, 2010
There may or may not be a point to this post, but I have been very nostalgic of late and felt like writing this. I may do more of these in the future, I'm not sure. I am using this blog as a record of our family story as well as a tool to keep in touch with far-flung family and friends, old and new alike.
*****************************************************************************
I was not terrified, although maybe I would have been right to be. The dog came tearing across our back yard and sunk his teeth into my father's forearm. The 80 pounds of pure muscle came off the ground as my father lifted his arm, the dog dangling by glistening teeth, growling in a low, gutteral tone that sounded like nothing short of the death of the man in his grip would satisfy him.
"BRAVO!" my father commended the dog, Bobo, a highly trained Belgian Malinois. Bobo instantly let go, my father smiling and Bo grinning, I swear. My father tossed a hard rubber ball for Bo, and took off his jacket and removed the bite sleeve that had protected him from serious dismemberment. "See, Bailey Sue? He all but bit through!" My father held out the jacket with the holes through it and the bite sleeve with huge gashes along it. He was proud, and I was pleased that he was showing me.
Bobo returned the ball to my father when told, and ran around the yard like a puppy, yanking on the rope that was wedged into the fork of a pear tree for his enjoyment. The dog could kill a man in an instant, and a child even quicker then that. I was only 8 or so, but I had no fear. I used these dogs for pillows when they were allowed in the house, and at that young age I was beyond certain that my father could stop any bad thing from happening, ever, anyway.
Bo was only the 2nd Mal that we had, but many more quickly followed. Drug dogs, cadaver dogs, bomb dogs, anomaly dogs. Bo even had a fun side specialty...he had been trained to alert on fatlighter. That was a fun surprise when walking through the woods with him, according to my father. The dogs were life itself, cleaning the kennels, mixing the wet and dry food precisely, adding everyone's medications....fish oil for everyone-a smell I can call to mind instantly although I have avoided it for years, aspirin for Bo (arthritis), lamb only food for Monto (allergies), and it goes on and on. Calling out commands in Dutch to your dogs and then having your friend look at you like you are nuts....all a part of being the kennel master's daughter.
An unusual part of childhood, but I enjoyed it very much. I have met interesting people, heard sensational stories, and been privy to "palace guard talk" that I could never divulge to my friends but that made me feel extremely special. When there would be drug searches at school, I loved the buzz around me "Bailey, isn't that your dad? Bailey, how does it work? Bailey, are those dogs going to eat my lunch?!" And I could answer those questions because my father had taken the time to carefully explain, and my mother had encouraged my interest, and, indeed, been interested with me.
The dogs also taught me about death. Those were hard losses, over and over again. Elvis had a heart condition, Bo got old. Monto was old and had been abused in Holland before we got him, Spock twisted his intestine and bloated grotesquely before our eyes and died shortly there after. Tessa had cancer. Reza, a tank of a dog, died of old age. Walden, my favorite. He was older then me. He lived and lived....he was 16 when he died, ancient for such a large dog, 100 lbs.
But he didn't just die. He turned gray, his muzzle and head almost completely. He stopped being able to climb onto the couch with me. A dog that could find an escaped convict in a swamp now couldn't always make it outside before going to the bathroom. Finally, it was decreed by powers higher then me at the time (I was 14 or 15, my parents were divorced and my father was out of town) that he live outside in a kennel. He could barely lift his head.
So I sat in the just-above-freezing temperatures in a light drizzle and told Wally all about the stories I knew of how he had helped people. With his head in my lap, I recounted the time he had found a farmer who had drowned in his cattle's water tank and the time a deer in the woods had leapt over him and landed squarely on my father's chest. When I ran out of stories I crawled into his little "Dogloo" with him and sang songs. Then I was just quiet. I buried my fingers and face in his coat...soft and thick, not wiry like some of the dogs. I had to go to school, and eventually I was made to come in out of the rain. When I went out next, he was still and cold.
The hole was already dug, and I buried that dog. I can't explain it, but I did a lot of growing up that day. I had loved this dog with all of my heart, watched him get old and sick, sat with him while he lay dying, and when the thing that made him Wally was gone, I placed his body in the ground and buried it myself.
Lots of lessons, some very hard, learned with those dogs. But I really loved that part of my childhood.
*****************************************************************************
I was not terrified, although maybe I would have been right to be. The dog came tearing across our back yard and sunk his teeth into my father's forearm. The 80 pounds of pure muscle came off the ground as my father lifted his arm, the dog dangling by glistening teeth, growling in a low, gutteral tone that sounded like nothing short of the death of the man in his grip would satisfy him.
"BRAVO!" my father commended the dog, Bobo, a highly trained Belgian Malinois. Bobo instantly let go, my father smiling and Bo grinning, I swear. My father tossed a hard rubber ball for Bo, and took off his jacket and removed the bite sleeve that had protected him from serious dismemberment. "See, Bailey Sue? He all but bit through!" My father held out the jacket with the holes through it and the bite sleeve with huge gashes along it. He was proud, and I was pleased that he was showing me.
Bobo returned the ball to my father when told, and ran around the yard like a puppy, yanking on the rope that was wedged into the fork of a pear tree for his enjoyment. The dog could kill a man in an instant, and a child even quicker then that. I was only 8 or so, but I had no fear. I used these dogs for pillows when they were allowed in the house, and at that young age I was beyond certain that my father could stop any bad thing from happening, ever, anyway.
Bo was only the 2nd Mal that we had, but many more quickly followed. Drug dogs, cadaver dogs, bomb dogs, anomaly dogs. Bo even had a fun side specialty...he had been trained to alert on fatlighter. That was a fun surprise when walking through the woods with him, according to my father. The dogs were life itself, cleaning the kennels, mixing the wet and dry food precisely, adding everyone's medications....fish oil for everyone-a smell I can call to mind instantly although I have avoided it for years, aspirin for Bo (arthritis), lamb only food for Monto (allergies), and it goes on and on. Calling out commands in Dutch to your dogs and then having your friend look at you like you are nuts....all a part of being the kennel master's daughter.
An unusual part of childhood, but I enjoyed it very much. I have met interesting people, heard sensational stories, and been privy to "palace guard talk" that I could never divulge to my friends but that made me feel extremely special. When there would be drug searches at school, I loved the buzz around me "Bailey, isn't that your dad? Bailey, how does it work? Bailey, are those dogs going to eat my lunch?!" And I could answer those questions because my father had taken the time to carefully explain, and my mother had encouraged my interest, and, indeed, been interested with me.
The dogs also taught me about death. Those were hard losses, over and over again. Elvis had a heart condition, Bo got old. Monto was old and had been abused in Holland before we got him, Spock twisted his intestine and bloated grotesquely before our eyes and died shortly there after. Tessa had cancer. Reza, a tank of a dog, died of old age. Walden, my favorite. He was older then me. He lived and lived....he was 16 when he died, ancient for such a large dog, 100 lbs.
But he didn't just die. He turned gray, his muzzle and head almost completely. He stopped being able to climb onto the couch with me. A dog that could find an escaped convict in a swamp now couldn't always make it outside before going to the bathroom. Finally, it was decreed by powers higher then me at the time (I was 14 or 15, my parents were divorced and my father was out of town) that he live outside in a kennel. He could barely lift his head.
So I sat in the just-above-freezing temperatures in a light drizzle and told Wally all about the stories I knew of how he had helped people. With his head in my lap, I recounted the time he had found a farmer who had drowned in his cattle's water tank and the time a deer in the woods had leapt over him and landed squarely on my father's chest. When I ran out of stories I crawled into his little "Dogloo" with him and sang songs. Then I was just quiet. I buried my fingers and face in his coat...soft and thick, not wiry like some of the dogs. I had to go to school, and eventually I was made to come in out of the rain. When I went out next, he was still and cold.
The hole was already dug, and I buried that dog. I can't explain it, but I did a lot of growing up that day. I had loved this dog with all of my heart, watched him get old and sick, sat with him while he lay dying, and when the thing that made him Wally was gone, I placed his body in the ground and buried it myself.
Lots of lessons, some very hard, learned with those dogs. But I really loved that part of my childhood.
Gabe's night with Daddy
Monday, March 15, 2010
Today Gabe's turn with Daddy rolled around! They went to the mall, ate dinner together in the food court (Gabe's choice!) and went shopping for a movie. Then they came home and we watched the Gabe's movie. And, yes, Tyrone looks seriously hard core in this pic, but he wasn't mad or anything, lol.Oh, and Gabe's excitement was contagious....
more pics...
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Here are the rest of the proofs I have from the photo shoot yesterday...I'll have all of them later this week, I can't wait!
time marches on...
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Yesterday, I received the phone call that gave us the 4 day window for when Tyrone will be leaving. It's soon. In less than a month. So, we are gearing up for that. Tyrone has been packing his bags, loading up Kevlar and green socks. I have been slowly, oh so slowly, finding ways to do more on my own. I went to the grocery store with 2 of the kids, including the {fussy} baby. I've started doing the bus stop on my own with all 4. I'm making a formalized chore chart for the older 3. Planning meals and stocking the freezer. It's a start.
Emmeline is now 9 1/2 weeks old and is more easily entertained. Not only do I have the pouch, I can put her down to play in small doses for the things that I can't do while wearing her. She is on....well, not a schedule, but a basic routine. She is more predictable, and I am able to mesh her routine and Shiloh's without too much trouble. The weather is getting pretty, so I can take her outside more. All of that helps.
I have come to accept that I am going to spend every day at full speed trying to meet everyone's needs for the next year. But, there can be a contentment in that....knowing that when I tuck my kids in to bed, I have done my job well and was the best Mommy today that I know how to be. That is my goal for this deployment....peacefulness and contentment. I certainly won't meet that goal everyday, but it is what I am praying for and striving towards. If you want to pray for me, that is what I am asking you to pray. But, above all, Tyrone's safety, please!
We've been hearing scary stories coming out of Afghanistan, and I have been fighting a panic that rises when I let my guard down. I am doing my best, and mostly succeeding, in just being still and enjoying the time that we have left, and looking forward to starting the count down until we will all be together again. So, for now, we are just soaking in time together...
Emmeline is now 9 1/2 weeks old and is more easily entertained. Not only do I have the pouch, I can put her down to play in small doses for the things that I can't do while wearing her. She is on....well, not a schedule, but a basic routine. She is more predictable, and I am able to mesh her routine and Shiloh's without too much trouble. The weather is getting pretty, so I can take her outside more. All of that helps.
I have come to accept that I am going to spend every day at full speed trying to meet everyone's needs for the next year. But, there can be a contentment in that....knowing that when I tuck my kids in to bed, I have done my job well and was the best Mommy today that I know how to be. That is my goal for this deployment....peacefulness and contentment. I certainly won't meet that goal everyday, but it is what I am praying for and striving towards. If you want to pray for me, that is what I am asking you to pray. But, above all, Tyrone's safety, please!
We've been hearing scary stories coming out of Afghanistan, and I have been fighting a panic that rises when I let my guard down. I am doing my best, and mostly succeeding, in just being still and enjoying the time that we have left, and looking forward to starting the count down until we will all be together again. So, for now, we are just soaking in time together...
"c'mere bubba. shiloh brush your hair!"
Monday, March 8, 2010
He put up a good fight...
But, victory was Shiloh's.
But, victory was Shiloh's.
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