The Obama Girls are a lot like my kids

I was totally touched and inspired by Rebekah Sanderlin's comparison of the Obama Girls to military children. You can read this outstanding and insightful collection of brilliance on SpouseBuzz.

Broad stroke masterpieces like this are what has lead the American People (the world for that matter) to truly understand the life of a military family - and specifically military children. Where would we be without this carefully crafted generalization to motivate conversation and compassion for our lifestyle?

Being dedicated to this path of understanding I too have comprised a list of the way the Obama girls are just like my three military children.

1. They have hair.
While Sasha and Malia get their hair done by the best stylists, my children receive their trims and coifs in my bathroom... with walmart clippers.

2. Dental Hygiene.
I'm sure that like my little military munchkins, S & M make sure their breath isn't comparable to that of Maleficent (that's a dragon reference for those who are all what? Angelina?).

3. Hydrate or Die
Water - we all need it to live. While Malia and Sasha probably sip on something out of an overly expensive bottle, my little herd are drinkin' from the hose that's pumpin from a well. Nothing but the best for my babies!

4. Food. They eat it.
The girls? White house chef.
My kids. Ummm.. Me. ((pretty sure my food's better))

5. Homework
Theirs: from only the best private schools
Mine? Common Core math worksheets crammed down the throats of American children who's greatest sin is attending a public school.

6. They inhale.

7. They exhale.

8. They sleep.
Shall we discuss thread count?

9. They wear clothing.
The Obama girls wear only the best. Newest fashions, updated outfits for every occasion (meanwhile the future Queen of England understands how to wear something twice). My kids? hand me downs and blue jeans.

So there you have it. 9 actual ways Sasha and Malia Obama are like military children - and 9 general reasons they have nothing in common.

All of the above being said - I place no blame on Sasha and Malia. They are kids shoved into a position they didn't volunteer for (hey maybe they do have something slightly in common with a military brat)... I blame broad stroke artistry like the original piece.

Now if Ms Sanderlin was inspired to write this piece after absorbing the spirit of Jonathan Swift - I'll agree her reflections are as clear as a Mississippi swimming hole. Perhaps her piece belongs on Duffel Blog instead of SpouseBuzz... or maybe opinions like these are the reason why OSMW facebook pages are so popular (since they allow people to purge the most vile of opinions).

XO XO and Stuff,

Jinger

Counting Candles

Well I'm 36.

Yep. I've lived 13,140 days - give or take a leap year.

Traditionally people ask "what do you want for your birthday" or "what are you doing for your birthday". Well.. instead of counting candles I'm going to make every day count.

This past 365 was hard... too many people I knew and cared about died. Not got sick or lost a job or broke a bone. They died. Disease or tragedy took them much earlier than the norm, and it taught me something. Its cliche... you've heard it a million times...

 So, I'm going to make each day count. I'll set goals. I'll perform tasks. I'll be a doer not a dreamer.

Now cool your jets. There will be no Everest or mind blowing invention. Its just simple things. The words "I wish" will be the last on my mind instead of the sitting on the tip of my tongue.

This morning I woke up with a simple task in my mind - purge the kids wardrobe. ((I'm tired of doing laundry when I know it was already clean)). 2 down 1 to go.

I knew my FB would be exploding with "Happy Birthday" messages, so I've chosen to ask for donations to Team Joe - in honor of Joe Clunie who was taken from his family by Melanoma at the age of 35. His wife Crystal got me through my first deployment (the kids were 3, 2 and 7 months). Yeah... She is an angel and deserves to have wind beneath her wings.

You don't have to build a building ~ tear down walls ~ break the glass ceiling. Just live with purpose.

Here's to the last 36 ~ now its time to get back to living life.

XO XO ~

Jinger

Cute Litte Six

"I remember when you were six!
You were such a cute little six! 

Happy Birthday Ninner Baby Heart..."

Every.

Single.

Year.

"Thanks Dad."

It didn't matter where I was in life. Dabbling in the party scene, off at college or deployed with the Army. Dad never fails to sing me happy birthday and tell me how cute I was at the age of six.

Now that I have a six year old daughter I totally get it. There's simple confidence in a little one that is contagious. Their excitement for life just fills a room, and they have so much to share with you. Everything is new, and yet they are starting to understand that they are a part of it all. They can make things happen!

Dad and I? Our relationship isn't one for TV movies. He was a pain and I was a jerk. I was irresponsible and he was batting clean up. We both made mistakes and calculated errors in life. So yeah, looking back. I can see how Dad got stuck on six year old me. I was probably much nicer back then. Definitely less of a hard ass.

Well tomorrow is my birthday. The phone will buzz, ring and ping with Facebook wishes and texts and calls. It will come and go. My kids will make me cards... there will probably be a cake.

I'll tell myself not to wait for it... that one phone call and the overly emotional mushy card with flowers all over it gushing with sentiment and Happy Birthday Daughter, with three little letters on the bottom... Dad - that card and that call won't come.

Dad's gone now, we lost him in January... but in the end I got to do what so many others don't have the chance to do. I got to say goodbye. I got to apologize. I got to forgive.

He's no longer struggling for a breath so he can use it to tell you some long winded story about something I did that was actually my sister (yep, still holding onto that one old man). He's no longer hurting or hungry. I'm no longer angry or frustrated.

They say (whoever the hell they are) that the sorrow of loss will hit different people at different times. That we cope in different ways. Well here's to the pain... you've got to feel it in order to respond and move forward. Dwelling in sorrow will not honor those who've gone before. 

On the outside I'm turning 36 and need a glass of wine... on the inside, I'm just a little six... who's missing her Dad.

I miss you Old Fart, Love Ninner.

Values v Value

I'm pretty freakin' opinionated. I'm also a bit judgmental. I'm ok with both of these traits and it isn't likely they will change. Those characteristics, however, can lead to disagreements with people who aren't of a like mind. Someone like my beautiful and amazing cousin Erin.

Erin and I could play ping pong with the opposite paths we've taken and political opinions we have. She went to college (like alot)... I joined the Army. She likes cats - I have a giant Rottweiler. I would say I am a social-moderate constitutional conservative libertarian. I suspect Erin (or at least some of the people in her social circles) would toss me in the "right-wing nut job tea party" column. They're probably more accurate than I'd care to admit. Erin's a liberal. I'd say flaming or bleeding heart - she'd claim moderate - she'd be wrong, but is totally entitled to her own opinion of herself.(he he he)

What's my point? Good question. My point is that two people can adore each other... respect each other... and TOTALLY DISAGREE!  I didn't sign up to uphold and defend the US Constitution just to suppress the rights of my fellow citizens (even those with whom I vehemently disagree).

Erin and I have spent many hours debating issues - and yet we've never once insulted each others intelligence or value as human beings. We've had disagreements about everything from teacher salaries to abortion. I think the only thing we agree on is marriage equality - but why does someone's political view point equate to their value? In my mind it doesn't and it shouldn't. I'd prefer to debate with an intelligent person than have people follow my lead bleating like sheep.

So - be who you are. Refuse to manipulate your beliefs and values to make other people comfortable. Truly MATURE human beings will accept you for who you are, be willing to discuss different view points and still enjoy your company. We are more than a check in the box at a voting booth.

I will ask that when you are forming your opinions you actually make INFORMED decisions. Think about the unintended consequences of your utopian aspirations. Consider the ramifications of anarchy.. be able to verbalize the WHY behind your beliefs with something more substantial than "you're a Fox news watcher aren't you?" or "stupid lib-tard drink the kool-aid" (that's a Jonestown reference Google it). Disagree with me all you want, but be prepared to defend your position with intellectual exchange not regurgitated rhetoric.

All of that being said - if you try to infringe on my constitutional rights you'll meet the business end of my favorite amendment.

XO XO & Stuff,

Jinger

There's a Pinch of Jinger, Under the Cape

Just want to clarify in case anyone is confused. I started a blog in August 2009 - Called "Super Mom - Under the Cape". Unfortuneatly, thanks to my craptastic memory and Googles insanely effective security measures I can no longer access the blog to update it or transfer its content...

Sooooo... I did it the old fashioned way. A little keyboard magic and my hard work in once again live on the interwebz.

If anyone has any concerns about the content - I promise it is all mine. From the froggy cupcakes to the poop eating future Miss USA.

Thanks - this ends our administrative interruption - you may return to your regularly scheduled entertainment at my expense.

XOXO

JB

ps - there are a few entries that I didn't transfer feel free to check them out http://underthecape.blogspot.com/

Climbing Up

I can't say 2010 was a great year. There were some amazing highs, but some jarring lows. I have lost faith in most of what I held closest, but resolved to let it build back up. It won't be easy or quick - but maybe someday I will move beyond all of this. For now I will take pleasure in the cursory aspects of relationships until a more solid foundation can be built.

I do not believe that anyone deserves a free pass in life. For everything you do there will be a reaction while at times there may be reward, in others there is reprisal. There is only so much any one person can take - or any one person can do before the curtains are pulled back and the truth is revealed. The main issue is when the curtains are shielding a mirror - and only when one's reflection is accepted can you grow and move on. Only then can you change the patterns of the past and find joy in the future ahead.

Can the past be changed? No. Can it be left behind? No. You are fooling yourself if you think it can be. It is a part of you. Every thing you've done to help people, educate yourself - endanger yourself or hold others down, is a part of who you are. You cannot spew loathing and cruelty without those of whom you speak finding out. You cannot move on without being contrite for the wrong doing. You can turn over a new leaf - but without facing the truth about what you've done or who you are - you will never gain the trust of the people in your life who've shared your journey, your pain, your joy, your past.

It is said that ignorance is bliss, I believe that true bliss is ignorance of self; Having absolutely no concept of your impact on others. What joy there must be for the bull who crashed through the china shop. Does he have any concept of the damage left in his wake; or was he just thrilled to get in a good run and escape unscathed? To be clueless of yourself. To have no concept of personal impact - must be nirvana for the individual, but what kind of hell it must be for those who must coexist in their world.

I cannot change anyone but myself. My sister asked me once how I show love.. easy. I don't lie to you. If you ask me if you look fat, I will tell you the truth. If you want to know what I think about buying a certain car... yep... I'll tell you what I think. Politics? Pull up a chair we'll be here for a while. Life in general? I will tell you what I think, what I would do... however I will not care what path you chose. In the end it is your life and you are responsible for your actions.

So here goes. This year is going to be about taking responsibility. I will no longer swallow miss deeds only to dish them out as resolution for past transgressions. I will not look harshly on the ignorant. I will not hold grudges and I will live in the moment.

I will climb up out of the darkness - and reach new heights.

http://underthecape.blogspot.com/

Wisdom...

...from a toddler.

Today we had the pleasure of taking Luke and Kadee to a joint well baby visit. Kadee screamed for about 90 minutes straight - and that was before the shots. Now onto the good stuff.

Apparently, at the 3 y.o. well child checkup kids are now expected to pee in a cup. Yep. A toddler pee'ing in a cup. In all of our brilliance Byron and I decide that I will be the one to take Luke to the potty to get the sample.

Now Lukey took a trip to the potty about 30 seconds before they called our name to go into the exam room. I knew it wouldn't be an easy mission, but I asked him if he was ready and he said "Yeah mamma I got lots a peepees."

We set off down the hall and Luke lets me know that he's "Gonna fill up dat cup to da tops with all my peepees." He reassured me "I can do it Mamma, I'm good at going poddy". I agree and we enter the bathroom. And Lukey gets down to the business of getting the business done.

To my shock and horror Lukey did have to go potty and it wasn't that big of a cup. As I begin to shriek "No, Lukey!!! Stop stop!! OH NO ~~ Baby STOP PEE'ing!!!"

with a giggle and a smirk he says "It doesn't work like dat, MaMa. You can't dop da peepees."

Have I ever mentioned how great a super mom cape is for quick clean-up?

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Precious Moments

There is something special about a daughter. She is sweet gentle... and just different than her brothers. The boys will spend the entire day raging like baby tigers looking for a fight. If they aren't fighting with each other - they make up imaginary beings to wage battle against. It is amazing the amount of violent energy that comes from a boy.

On the other hand. My baby girl will sit in the middle of their firestorm of terror playing with stacking blocks, a piano... dolls. Blissfully unaware of the furry surrounding her. She coos and sings, giggles and talks to herself.

Well, today was no different. The boys were creating "actions" (accidents) with their thomas the train engines. The trains would fly through the air like little red, blue or green hand grenades then crash into the pile of trucks & tracks below. The boys wailed with laughter - jumping and screeching with happiness at the destructive results of their "action".

Baby girl toddles over to me, crawls into my lap and coos something in Kadee-Talk then kisses mommy sweetly on the cheek while a train car goes racing past her face. She strokes my cheek... bats her eye lashes and farts like an elephant on my leg.

He brothers approve with an impromptu dance of joy. I guess they have been teaching her a thing or two.

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A Dream is a Wish Your Heart Makes

and sometimes they come true.

This past week. Byron and I hosted our closest family and friends for a week of fun and to be part of our vow renewal and reception.

I dreamed for DECADES of my wedding. As fate would have it... Byron and I married in 2005 in the Doo Wop Diner at the Viva Las Vegas Wedding Chapel. Not exactly Princess Diana Part 2. I told everyone in my life that we would be having a "real wedding" someday, and that vegas wasn't "my wedding". ~~~~ As they finally finally figured out I wasn't kidding.

This past Saturday, with 70 friends and family present we renewed our vows then hit the dance floor to celebrate our love and 5 years of marriage. I could NOT have asked for a more perfect or beautiful day.

The ceremony was fun filled, and written by our close friend Jessie Frost. My Uncle Paul officiated the event. The reception was amazing, food outstanding and music kept everyone on the dance floor.

A wedding/ vow renewal... whatever you call it... is NOT about the BRIDE!!! It is NOT about a dress... it is not about being a DIVA or a PRINCESS! It is about the bonding of two families, the joining of two lives and the JOY and CELEBRATION of two people becoming one. For 5 years I listened to people ask me WHY we needed this day. Then as our guests arrives, the festivities began and the days passed by I didn't have to answer anymore. Everyone understood.

My stepfather is planning a fishing trip with our best man Sully. My cheerleaders partied with our Sailor buddies... I danced with my dad... I don't have to explain to my Mom what my Mother In Law is like. This is what it is all about. We are now one... He and I, and our family and friends are joined forever by the memory of that day!!!

Thank you all for joining us. I have to give a special thank you to Erin Rondeau and Jill Sullens. These two worked soooooo hard to make every detail perfect for our day. From programs to candles these two made such a huge impact on the day. Without them so many little things would have fallen through the cracks. LOVE YOU!

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You Get What You Get...

and you don't throw a fit!

Ahhh, the wisdom of preschool etiquette.

Here at the Brinkley house we have a simple, but fun tradition in reference to our birthdays. By "our" I am referring to my husband and I. We let the kids design our birthday cake. They tell the opposite parent what they want and we surprise them with it.

Byron Duke and Luke have been planning my birthday cake since Byron arrived back from Iraq in early November. I was a little concerned because everytime I inquired about the cake my husband would smirk and laugh with a quiet "You'll see".

Well, today the moment arrived. He ordered the cake from a friend of a friend (thanks Crystal - Winky did an awesome job) drove an hour to get it and arrived home with the creation in hand. As I walked across the kitchen with my camera in hand my mind flashed to all of the things the kids could have focused on this year...

Disney, flowers, the beach, the zoo... but one kept flashing in my mind and filling me with dread. Lukey and his love affair with his pecker and his obsession with Thomas. I was SURE that somewhere on this cake there would be Thomas the Tank Engine pulling along a freight car of you know whats! He'd promised me one for Christmas and wasn't very happy that Santa didn't hook me up (thank God).

Ok, back to the B'day cake. I cross the kitchen, steal myself for trains and hoo-ha's then BAM!

There's the cake. In all of its laundry basket and bowling goodness! That's right a laundry basket with clothes hanging over the side and a bowling ball and pins. The cake was SOOOOO good and pecker free! I am a lucky B'day girl!
















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Lord Forgive Me

This morning started like most of the American Easters in the past. Children up, running around to hunt the pastel eggs hidden by a giant rabbit. Mine came on down the stairs around 7:30 which is actually pretty late for them.

They ran through the house, collected their eggs and after doing a triple check that there were no eggs remaining the insanity pursued.

I remember ripping through my Easter basket shoving as much chocolaty, sugary, marshmallow filled goodness into my mouth as I could before my mom shoved me into some pastel colored, flower covered ruffled monstrosity.

Not my kids... (((as I hang my head in shame)))

Kadee went upstairs to play with her toys, the boys however sat down to sort the Easter eggs they'd found. Once the Easter Eggs had been sorted by color, they were then counted and inventoried for contents.

Once the contents had been removed from their original eggs they were sorted according to wrapper color and candy type (i.e. gummy bunnies by color, mini snickers by wrapper color).

Following this step the candies were reassigned to their new egg chosen, of course, to coordinate the correct candy color within. Blue gummy bunnies go in light blue Easter eggs - mini snickers inside blue wrappers are housed in dark blue eggs.

When Lukey had the audacity to SAMPLE some of the candy Byron Duke reminded him, "Luke, it is not time for eating we have to get organized first"

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Don't Call Me Ma'am!

Don't call me Ma'am - Its Drill Sergeant.

Well, I did it. I set my mind to something 7 years ago, and on March 20th I accomplished my goal. I had a great time at school - and faced some frustrating moments as well.

I'd say one of the most amazing things I saw was the transformation in my roommate SSG V. During our first day she was quiet and lacked confidence in her run times. By the conclusion of the school she was marching the entire class and smoked me in the run by a full minute.

Our platoon, while not always happy with each other, saw two of our members graduate with the highest honors in the class (Dist. Honor Grad and Honor Grad) and one of our three Drill Sgt. Leaders be selected as the DSL of the cycle.

I was asked to return as a Drill Sgt. Leader Candidate once I do some time on the trail. I was honored at the request and hope to fulfill it at some point in my career. ~~ That all depends on the NAVY as you know ~~

My handsome husband and my father attended graduation. Byron had to leave the next day for a short training mission, but it was hard to see him go. The kids and I are getting back in the swing of things... well except for the flat tire, dead battery and plethora of other Murphy moments.

My new hat looks pretty sweet with my cape.

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Unintended Consequence

In the Army we learn about "Unintended Consequences". The Army Field Manual (FM 22-100)which explains our Leadership doctrine tells the story about a time change and the resulting scheduling hardships on a Soldier's family. Something the command didn't take into consideration - an unintended consequence.

How does this relate to Mommy Land? Well, I have a habit of turning everything my kids do into a song of some type. Dancey Dancey dancey dancey! I make all of their names into a tune same melody just different lyrics. Baby B my little baby B or Kadee Baby Kadee Kadee Baby and Lukey Lukey Lukey Bazookey!

So where does this lead? To bathtime. It was hard to get all of the kids ready for a bath - so I made up a little song. Forgive me but it goes like this... GeeeeTTT Naked Get Naked Get Ghe Ghe Ghe Ghe Get NAKED! Iiiiiiit's Bathtime it's Bathtime its Ba Ba Ba Ba Ba Bathtime! (repeat until all three are ready for the bath and headed for the tub)

Well, this was all fine enough when the kids couldn't talk or undress themselves. Fast Forward 'til today. Byron Duke and Luke without missing a beat will drop their shorts, sing the song and dance their naked little bodies all over the house. Kadee follows suit by attempting to remove her diaper while shaking her little toosh to the rhythm of the song.

Today it dawned on me -- Have I turned my babies into little strippers? definitely an Unintended Consequence.

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Living Up to the Standard

It makes me laugh... when people call me "Super Mom" in my mind Super Mom has it all together, never breaks a sweat and is the image of style (in a hot mom way).

I am none of these things. I thank God that I have a two story home -- which allows me to host friends without having to hide the 3-5 loads of laundry waiting for my attention. I can have two dirty bathrooms and one left to welcome my guests. My car is a disgrace and only the very close or very brave are offered a ride, and if you think for a moment that I am the image of fashion ummm... yeah. I am wearing flannel pajama pants and my hair is in a bun.

Is it really about meeting a standard or living up to what other people think you should do? At the end of the day when you look in the mirror is your reflection looking back at a liar? Are you living your life as a fiction story - or is your's a story with nothing hiding between the lines?

bla bla bla... my point? Be who you are - don't hide, don't try to be someone else.... be YOU and do not pretend to be anything other than that. When you muddy the waters of your identity you do not allow people to invest in the person you are. They love and admire an illusion -- when the smoke clears there is discontent, confusion and pain.

So, am I a super mom? No. I am a woman who survives day to day and does my best to make it work. When people come to my home I clean like crazy, and slap on some make-up. Wanna see chaos? Come to my house at 0900 when I am trying to get the kids out the door for Pre-school, show up 10 minutes before dinner is supposed to be on the table. I scream, yell, cry -- and lose my cool.

but at the end of the day -- I see who everyone else sees looking back from the mirror. There is no confusion, no question... no wondering if I can keep it up or what people think of me.

Just my thoughts on today - take 'em or leave 'em. Oh, and go look in the mirror.

http://underthecape.blogspot.com/

All I Want for Christmas

Welll, I am pretty simple really. For Christmas, on one hand I like things that sparkle and on the other hand I like Diamonds. Oh wait... sorry that just slipped out.

Today I was using the bathroom and like most moms I wasn't alone. ((this is a joy of motherhood you always have a potty buddy)). Our three year old, Luke, is in the final stages of potty training. He is very interested in what everyone else is doing in there and wants to SEE the results of your efforts -- he's not weird he knows that he gets ice cream for #2's and he wants to share that secret with you.

Aaaaanyway, today he walks in and says "Mamma wha you pecker?"
I say, "I don't have one baby, I'm a lady."
He replies, "Ahh Mamma (very sad), you la you pecker?"
I inform him "No baby I didn't lose it, I never had one"
He says, "Oh, Mamma." and gives me his sad puppy dog face.

He walks out of the bathroom for about 3 seconds then RACES BACK IN!

"Mamma, Mamma!! I buy lou pecker for Frissmass!"

"You're going to buy me a pecker for Christmas?"

"Uh Haaa! A grrreat greeeaaaat BIG ONE"

Lucky me!

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The Turkey Rule

I am truly blessed. I have a set of in laws who are welcoming, funny, humble and fiercely loyal.

Having said that I am totally gonna sell out my mother in law and tell you ALL how she dropped the ball - and not just any ball this one has wings.

Kim, (my mamma in law) uses this really great method to cook the Thanksgiving turkey. You fill the turkey with root vegetables and then surround it with brown paper bags. (confused? so was I check the link).

Well, the morning started nicely. The men were outside playing with weapons and BBQ grills. Kim and I ran around the kitchen doing prep work, cutting veggies and potatoes. She set the oven and got the bird going. As time passed the house filled with the aromas of the holiday. Potatoes were mashed, pies were made, dressing was prepared. It seemed like forever and then it was the moment of truth... the turkey was ready.

Kim opened the oven and pulled the centerpiece out. All around the room people drew in their breath as the beautiful turkey appeared. We all got a great look at it as it sailed through the air with grace and skidded to the floor like a jumbo jet liner heading into JFK.

At first we all stared mouths gaping but as reality sank in, the star of the show was laying in a heap on the ground, we took action to rescue the day. Heavy guns (a.k.a. my husband) were called in to lift the bird and replace it on a roasting pan. The bird was placed back in the oven to recover and brown for final presentation at the table. The floors were mopped and horror was replaced by humor and understanding.
Fortunately for all of us since Kim uses the brown bag cooking method the bird never actually came into contact with the floor. The only casualties were the pan drippings and a wing lost due to the collision.

Turkey Day? 100% a success and a story that we will share and enjoy for years to come. Although instead of the 5 second rule -- we now call it "the turkey rule"!
(p.s. Kim is a great hostess and she kept her calm during an event which would have crushed a less seasoned holiday hostess with the mostest! She took it with a grin and laughed off the what could have been a turkey tragedy)

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ITS OVER!

WOW! What an amazing journey the last 7 months have been. On April 15th I watched my husband board a C-17 aircraft bound for Iraq. He and his fellow Sailors were going "over there" and we were left behind to - worry, wonder, hope and pray.

I did my fair share of all of the above. The kids kept me crazy stupid busy, and thanks to the support of friends and family I didn't lose my mind. It got close at the end, but I made it through.

On November 3rd the calls and emails started flying. Homecoming was upon us and the dates and times were changing faster than a newborn's diaper. By the 5th I'd had enough and decided to ignore all further calls with "more information" on homecoming. My thoughts - "Just tell me when he's home - I can't take it anymore".

So, we get the "final" call that he'll be home Friday evening. I clean like a crazy woman, wake up on Friday clean babies, change clothes, confirm my hair appointment and hang banners. I am about to walk out the door when the phone rings. Its HER. The woman who calls to tell me he'll be home later not sooner. I brace myself and say hello. She tells me there is a time change - He'll be home sooner than later.

I call Andrea the OpLove photographer to let her know our time has been pushed up, and I pray that she can still make it. She's IN! I pack up the kids and head to the terminal ---> its time to Go GET DADDY!

We wait, for two hours we wait. I meet up with Andrea introduce her to the commander's wife, the ombudsman and she works her magic with the camera.

Then we hear the intercom "Ladies and Gentleman in the terminal your flight has cleared customs, your Service members will arrive shortly"

My heart races. I get in my spot "Babe I'll be in the back to your Left. Just look for me I'll be there" we'd planned it out, talked about it -- focused on it when we thought we wouldn't make it through. It was happening. He was about to be home.

A Master Chief from the command took up duty as "Bird Dog" and told us he'd let us know when they were on the bus and headed to the terminal. As we saw his boots coming down the stairs voices rose and the room filled with anticipation. We saw their shadows pass the doors and knew our boys were home.

The kids and I stood to the rear of the crowd (small room - large crowd) and off to the left like we'd planned. The doors opened and the first Kegbuster was welcomed home. The room cheered, we all clapped and waited for the next face to appear...

"Its HIM Its HIM!! Baby I'm here! We're here!!! It's HIM!!!"

I heard my voice yelling above the cheers of my fellow Kegbuster families. Saw the joy in my husbands eyes as he found us in the crowd. I choked back the tears in my eyes and my heart flooded with joy and relief. My Sailor is HOME! He is safe and we are complete as a family!

I watched as he knelt down to kiss the boys and pull them close, kissed his lips and told Kadee her Daddy is home. As a family we embrace and the last 7 months disappear all that remains is joy.

special thanks to Andrea of Andrea Leigh Photography for capturing our homecoming and making such happy moments last a lifetime!

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Its DUNKIN DONUTS!!!

Its Monday and I load up the kids for preschool in less than 30 minutes. This timeline allows me one precious stop on the way to the haven the children know as school (which mommy reveres as 3 hours of calm with only one child to worry about).

Anyway, we roll on down the road and pull into our Dunkin Donuts drive through for a treat for the kids and the required lifeline for all humans over the age of 25 on a monday morning - COFFEE.

Yep, Coffee - not a chocolattagratta halfcalf double tuckasoyalotta choo choo - COFFEE. Well, somehow the goob in front of me mistook PINK & ORANGE for GREEN & WHITE.

"Ummmm... I'll have a venti soy chai latte"

"We don't have that ma'am"

"Ummmm... I'll have a venti skinny Pumpkin Spice Latte no whip"

"We have pumpkin flavored coffee ma'am"

"Ummmm... well, do you have anything Pink?" (I am not making that up)

HOLY SHIT! It's dunkin donuts dumbass! Order a medium regular with cream and sugar and get the hell out of my way. You are cutting into my 3 hours of happy time which does NOT make me happy and endagers your life as you sit in your hippy-happy-bumper-sticker-slatherd-hybrid.

Don't get me wrong. When I want a Grande Triple Pumpkin Spice Latte I KNOW where to go - hell -- maybe I should have given her directions.

http://underthecape.blogspot.com/

Oh Yeah... That's a Good One

Its not everyday (especially over the last 7 months) that I bare my girl parts. It is pretty much never (excluding childbirth) that I've been spread eagle on a table with a perfect stranger "all up in it".

Well, today was the day I bared it all and in return spent an hour getting hot waxed slathered on my bikini region only to have that hot wax covered in fabric and oh so expertly RIPPED OFF by C.J. (who is an arteest by the way). In response to this, oh so delicate, action my body reacted naturally. I screamed and then giggled like a school girl at the sheer horror of what was happening to my most sensitive region. Yes, I said giggled. I think there may be something wrong with my psyche - who giggles as they get tortured? Who? Me - that's who.

C.J. kept things light telling me about the strippers and S&M girls who are her regular customers (this made me giggle even more). She suggested, since this was my first adventure into waxing, that I start with a bikini wax -- but me being the badass that I am said "Nope, do it all". Yeah - somehow "do it all" neglected to translate to my brain that my ass would be involved.

After a while I forgot that she was tearing away at my lady land and was enjoying our conversation - even though it was sometimes interrupted by "Ohh ho ho MY GOD - That's a good one" You know its a good one when little white lights flash behind your eyelids as you spontaneously fold into the fetal position.

I mean really? Am I voluntarily laying on a table, half naked, with wax from front to back - side to side and ever crevice in between. Yep - Really.

All I know is
A: My husband better f$#king appreciate this effort
B: When he is done appreciating it I better be the one saying "Oh yeah -- that's a good one."

http://underthecape.blogspot.com/

Say When

Its been a while hasn't it? Well, as life catches up with you sometimes little extras drop to the sidelines.

I was thinking about limits yesterday when I was at the commissary on base. I watch as 300lb people pick up gallons of soda and pounds of potato chips, moms give into their toddlers just to get a moments peace... men grab every protein shake on the shelf and women stare aimlessly at the beauty counters.

It is amazing how at some point we all need to pull back and say ENOUGH! I'm walking through the aisle, and like me, there are plenty of other woman dragging multiple little ones behind them 2, 3 even 4. I ask myself -- would I ever want any more kids? Nope. Not even a second to come up with that answer. Don't get me wrong I love my children, but when two people make the personal choice to become a baby mill -- do they ever consider their children's feelings?

There are the Duggers we all know their choices -- and I think it is their example that makes me wonder or give the "side eye" as some would say.
aaaaand Like MandyBrownNoser says "its not my place to judge".

Anyway, as I'm walking through the dairy aisle I'm approached by a retiree looking for coffee creamer. He compliments my brood of minions and asks if we plan on having any more. He smiles and says

"My wife had seven"

I respond, "My husband had a vasectomy"

He laughs and says quietly -- "Good Idea!"

http://underthecape.blogspot.com