Day 2 - Open Season

There's this guy. He's kind of an asshole. Most of us know him as Murphy. Well, I'll tell you he has a tracking device on every service member, and as soon as they are outside of a reasonable commuting distance Murphy declares open season on those keeping the home fires burning.

He's basically this guy only invisible...

Well here we are on day 2 and B must have just crossed over whatever magical line activates his Mother-Truckin-Murphy beacon.

1. Lawn Mower wouldn't start (we're on 2.5 acres... I can't just let it go).
2. Low Tire Pressure light.. fill tire.. find nail.
3. Oldest Kids shoes are too small
4. Can't find my debit card (so can't solve above listed problems)
5. Playstation needs some sort of update? I don't know I don't speak video game. 

These aren't big problems. I 100% realize that, however they are the kind of issues I would just shoot B a text "how do I", "do you know how"... "WHAT THE FXCK!!!!", but when you know they can't fix the issue and you don't want to burden them, these little things can become overwhelming quickly. In the past I would have flown off the handle and cussed out Murphy and in the present I do the same damn thing, but but but but but... I have learned to ask for help.

Shot my neighbor a text and asked him to check the mower when he got home from work. He flipped the gas level from the right to left tank and bam back in business.

Talked to the guys at walmart about the tire they said I'd be good for another few days and it can be fixed with a plug.

Navy Federal has IMMEDIATE replacement cards at your local branch - so I can now buy shoes for my shoeless child who is growing faster than my grass.

While I was out at Walmart my OTHER neighbor knocked out a portion of my grass for me - he would have done all of it but my dogs are well... doing their job and not letting anyone in the yard while Big Sexy is away. ((Good puppies, but don't eat the neighbors)).

The Army's Master Resilience Training program taught me to Hunt the Good Stuff. I will RESPOND to each issue that pops up and do my best not to react (yes there is a difference). I will appreciate the assistance of friends and neighbors. I will accept their help with a grateful heart, knowing they aren't doing it for reciprocation they are just being good friends and neighbors.

So take that Murphy. I'm not alone and anything you throw at me that my friends and I can't handle? I'll just call my Farm Bureau agent and hire a pro. Let the hunter become the hunted. I've got Murphy in my sights and this time he's goin' down!



XO XO & Stuff,

Jinger

Homecoming Chain

We've all heard of homecoming countdowns. The basic concept is this you count the number of days deployment is projected for, fill up a jar with candy or pennies and then remove one item each day, as the jar gets empty you have a visual reminder that its almost over...

one problem... 

those damn dates are written with disappearing ink, not stone.

When Big Sexy deployed to Iraq in 2009, I had three kids at home - sorry not kids - kids go to school, are potty trained and can communicate with words - I had two toddlers and a baby at home (3, 2 and 7 months). So the idea of emptying a jar was just too abstract for them... I was worried about the disappointment if the date changed and the jar was empty, so I canned the whole concept.

Then we stopped over my friend Crystal's house and everywhere I looked there was color and fun. She and her boys were marking their successful journey through deployment. They were making a Homecoming Chain.

Never one to have an original thought I jumped on that bandwagon and grabbed some construction paper on my way home.

We started our homecoming chain a little late, but it was a great experience. Each day the kids and I would sit down and talk about our day. I'd write little notes so I could tell the big guy about our time when he was away, and the kids would draw and scribble all over the other side. Soon our home was filled with color and reminders that even though it wasn't easy - we were working hard to make it through.

Well we've started for this go 'round and I'm looking forward to seeing it grow - the longer it gets the closer he is to coming home.

Have fun with your chain. Use flowers or hearts,  color coordinate with their branch of service or favorite football team. Be creative and have fun. We keep ours simple, but my kids are young and sometimes simple = maintaining my sanity.

We have choices in life, even when there are aspects which are out of our control. You can be crushed by your emotions or you can respond with action. Every day isn't a cake walk, but you can grow stronger through hardship.

XO XO & Stuff,

Jinger

Idle Hands

One thing I've learned over 10 years (this weekend) as a Navy Wife - is that I do not do well with downtime. Idle Hands are not my friends. So, in addition to my nightly confessions about deployment realities I plan on sharing with you some of the busy work I'll give myself to pass the time, but first let's talk our left and right limits.

1. Know Yourself. 
I always get in shape over deployment. It is tradition. It is something I enjoy. Find something that makes you HAPPY and fills you with a sense of accomplishment, and invest your time and energy in that thing. You will feel the days go by faster. 

2. Be Realistic.
I used to make huge goals for the 6-9-12 months my husband was deployed. Then I figured out that sometimes making it through TODAY is a big enough goal (3 kids, 1 mom... 4 rounds of stomach flu). Start with small daily goals until you are in the swing of things, then choose a goal you can work toward over a week... then a month... then before you know it you'll be hanging banners on the house and making appointments for sexfoliation.

3. WIFM
Do things that make you feel better. I'm not saying you should spend every penny of deployment $$ buying yourself things. Spend your time growing stronger. If volunteering feeds your soul - raise your hand and get to work. If you love animals, go to the SPCA and pet puppies when you're lonely. Do you enjoy crafting? Look around your home and take some time to invest in your decor or make some great items for a craft fair and give it a go. Its OK to do the things you LIKE and things that bring you JOY.

Now, let me go find my BGPs and a glue gun. I've got some work to do.

photo credit polyvore.com

 XO XO & Stuff,

Jinger

Day 1 a Different Kind of Deployment

We made it through day 1. Pretty well actually (I'll totally cry tonight, but its cool). I have to say this one feels different, and so far it's for pretty great reasons.

In the past the sitter arrives, my husband would quietly kiss the kids and say "see you soon" - they were little. They didn't know what deployment was they just knew "Daddy is at work". We'd pack his gear into the car and head off to the airport. The terminal would be filled with kids and family members. Melancholy filling the room. We'd sit. We'd wait. He'd leave. I'd sit in the empty car for a minute. Cry for a couple more. Then take a deep breath and get on with it.

I was alone.

Not this time.

Our neighbors next door are also a Navy family, about to PCS up to Ohio - they sent messages to make sure they got to say goodbye to Big Sexy before he left. He caught up with them briefly in person. As we walked out of the house yesterday with the big guy in his whites, our neighbors on the other side were pulling their boat for a day of fishing - they stopped right where they were jumped out to say goodbye. My sweet friend Lisa hugging my neck "I'm so sad for you"... it actually felt GOOD to have someone understand that it hurts to say goodbye - even if its only for few months. I guess misery does love company (or at least a little empathy).

Following the final departure our neighbors up the road hijacked my pouting plan, and hulled us over for some BBQ and a few drinks. It was nice to NOT wallow. I needed that. The kids did too. These friends a Coast Guard family, said they hadn't walked in our exact shoes, but doggone it we shop at the same store.

Today was filled with appointments, errands and some good company (Thanks Jamie). Things very quickly snap back to normal...

but... its the after bedtime quiet that gets to me. That empty space. The moments I look over to comment on Game of Thrones and my dog just stares in reply. Those are the moments you have a choice. Succumb to the sadness or reach over your shoulder and pat yourself on the back.

Another day is done. He's another day closer to home. I am not alone, and this time around I will not be too proud to ask for help. 

Tomorrow I'll tell you all about our homecoming chain, care package plans and how we are going to kick the crap out of this deployment.

Tonight? I'll pout into my Pinot and follow that up with a pat on the back.

XOXO & Stuff,

Jinger

Day Zero

I wasn't sure how I was going to use this time to fuel my writing. Should I think about a structured format to compartmentalize what is happening? How I'm feeling? Maybe I should just focus on the "buck up" and "big girl panties" bad assness...

Better yet.

I think I'll just write what comes to mind, and let the rest sort itself out.

Welcome to Zero Day.

Today doesn't really count as Day One. It can't, why? Because I woke up this morning to see his handsome face snoring brilliantly beside me. I heard him stretch and hit snooze. I felt his breath, his warmth. Watched his body lumber up out of the bed. He was here this morning. No, today, the day that hurts more than most, today doesn't really count.

Today is Zero Day. Today is the day everything feels fragmented. Your everything walks away. Today is the testing ground. Today... we stood side by side as our world wobbled and tried to fall apart. Today we held it together.

Tomorrow we'll talk about resilience. Today just sucks.

Deja Vu

It's all too familiar. We've been here before...

The kids hug his neck while their little voices break, his eyes close and he inhales as he pulls them in. They're a bundle of skinny little arms and legs all wrapped up in Daddy's bear hug.

The oldest wants to know every detail of WHY Daddy has to go...

The baby just knows she's sad, and keeps asking how she'll talk to him on her birthday.

Our middle guy is mad. A scowl etched into his young face... his blue eyes glimmer with welled tears. His best friend is leaving and he's not going to like it.

He releases each of them. Kisses them on the forhead and reminds them, "Daddy loves you".

Now its my turn.

I know in my head he'll be fine. I know in my heart that he loves me. I know in my soul I will see him again... I'm trying really hard to keep myself together. Trying everything to keep my tears from falling.

He pulls me in so I can hide my face in his chest. My shoulders rise and fall with my tears while he envelopes me in his strong embrace. I stop crying.

"you good?"... his voice is gruff.

"yeah, I'm ok. I'm good." he starts to pull away "No... no I'm not" and we repeat the same all over again until I am actually good. 

His big bear hands grasp my face and we kiss (1, 2, 3) its always 3. Three little kisses... I love you. Three little kisses... See you soon.

I hate what comes next.

He'll take a deep breath. He'll grab his gear.

"I love you guys. Be good for mom. Love you babe..."

"Love you too, come back to me."

Three little kisses...

"Always."

he'll turn on his heal and walk away.

It's not Deja Vu. It's Deployment. 

Word Play: The Bully Card

I'm going to try to be clear on this one.

I say try, because regardless of which words I choose or the intent with which I use them, the semantics won't matter out of context. That however, is a risk I assume when choosing to use an online platform to share my thoughts.

First is our subject matter: Bullying, perception vs reality - weight and dilution - and the use of The Bully Card.

Second - I am NOT discussing bullying of children - this one's about the grown ups. Not tweens, not college kids ----> the no kidding have a job, pay their own bills, have kids of some form (fur babies, baby babies... student loans) ADULTS.

Let's ask someone we all (generally speaking) know and usually agree with for our left and right limits.

Mr Webster what does it mean to bully?

FRIGHTEN

HURT

THREATEN....






Mr Webster what is a victim?

ATTACKED

INJURED

CHEATED

HARMED...





Is it possible that we are throwing around the word bully so much that it is becoming a joke? Have we diluted the word so drastically that it is the first word we jump to when someone disagrees with us?

Words have meaning. They carry weight, and they can actually affect a person to the point of hurting them-self or others.  Semantics are important. Look at the word hero for example;

Hero, one who with disregard for their welfare acts with bravery and valor. Now, the guy who stops a grocery cart from hitting your car. The baseball player who hits a home run. A sandwich.

We need to be less flippant and work to maintain the integrity of the words we use. Eventually, we'll hear them so much they'll have no meaning, they'll spark no response.

If someone is mean to you because of something YOU did to make them angry - does that make them a bully? Or are they just MAD at you?

If someone vehemently disagrees with you on any given subject and they vocalize that disagreement - are they a bully? Or just the opposition?

Those who go out of their way to hunt out the weak among us and without provocation attack their very self worth are bullies. They devise ways to belittle and degrade with the intent to harm or humiliate their target. They take a simple disagreement and turn it into a personal attack. They find ways to infiltrate your life, your work... your thoughts.

Someone who dislikes you? Someone who disagrees with you? Someone who is just generally rude... not always a bully. 

An acquaintance of mine Jessie R said:

I think it's really easy to say, 

"I'm not a bully, it's just that overly sensitive people get butthurt. A lot."

That said, every person who is a rude asshole isn't necessarily a bully. Bullying, to me, implies a concerted targeting of a specific person, typically more than once, by an individual or group or organization. But somebody can be mean, classless, a bitch, a rude jerk or piece of crap troublemaker and not be a bully, sure.  

I won't defend "Dependa Bashing" (that's people making fun of military spouses for my civilian friends) or pretend like bullying doesn't happen... I also think there needs to be a balance of voices. 

We are not all victims. If you make the choice to share your opinions publicly you open yourself up to critics, dissent and depending on the content out right ridicule. We, those of us who share our opinions publicly must be prepared for and receptive to criticism. People who converse online, share their personal beliefs MUST understand that 100% of the human race isn't going to be on the same page. We must be mature enough to handle both the supportive and critical response to our work. Someone who doesn't like you or agree with you isn't automatically a bully.

We as adults must be less instantaneous with our use of the term, basically, stop using the word bully like a get out of "I messed up" free card. When the bully card is thrown prematurely or constantly its validity wanes and we take away its authenticity. This practice sets an interesting example - we teach everyone around us that legitimate censure can be dismissed with the single cry of BULLY!

When you have a negative response - not an attack - a negative response, that should be a teachable moment. That is the time when you need to take a step back and gain some perspective. It is actually humanly possible to BE WRONG... to DO WRONG...  You can actually deserve to have someone say something mean or angry to you. You may have someone go out of their way to read over 897 words to inform you - you used the wrong their, they're, there... ONCE. Guess what.. they're right and you need to go find the there, they're, their error and correct it. Don't just reply with "YOU'RE A GRAMMAR BULLY!!! I'm only human!!! Leave me alone you BULLY!!!"

BUT...

Don't be an asshole. If you hate content. Make fun of the words. Say the author might want to review their sources. Tell them they've stepped away from reality and might want to catch the first ship back from la la land, but don't tell them they are a piece of trash human being who shouldn't be afforded another breath on the surface of the planet. Don't hunt down their personal contact info. Don't harass them via email, text or social mdia. Don't bring their spouse, children or other family members into a disagreement just so you can get the last word in. Hunting for a way to actually HURT an individual... That? That's makes you a bully. (Unless they are publishing illegal content, hate speech or threaten the welfare of other human beings.)

Learn how to disagree with someone using words to break down your thoughts or theirs not to break down their worth.

All of that BUT... being said.

Some people need to get a thicker skin, pull up their big girl panties, strap on their embrace the suck suspenders and pull out that special straw so they can suck it up, however...

If you feel someone is bullying you - really bullying you - screw them. You are worthy. You are not garbage, and that jacktard's opinion isn't valid enough for you to feel bad about.

Want me to be your back up? Leave I comment - I got you!


XO XO & Stuff

Jinger

Keep your Vagina out of Voting

A friend of mine posted something regarding Hillary Clinton announcing her run for the Presidency.  

Hillary Clinton has officially announced her candidacy for President. While I want to jump on the band wagon to support this, I gotta do some research...

Here is where a normal conservative would plug in all the insane facts they can find about why no-one should vote for any liberal ever. I would tell you all the reasons you should take a look at Rand Paul or Ted Cruz or I don't know... Ben Carson... but I'm not normal.

I just don't think your vagina or epidermis should be making these types of decisions. I shared my DNA-inspired voting opposition with Tosha, and she liked it so much she shared with her friends. Sharing is caring people - Facebook says so.

"I just think its cool that the President looks like me, 

that's why I voted for Obama".

So you're saying I should vote for the guy on the right? Right?

Or my personal favorite -

"Don't you want to see a woman in the white house?"

I'm sorry did I miss something? While located on Pennsylvania Ave the White House is hardly The Philadelphia Club. I'm not here to argue feminism's value or our progress in race relations. We are discussing the appropriate individual motivation vs pragmatic responsibility when voting for the leader of the free world. The possession of one set of sex organs or the other shouldn't be your sole inducement to vote for a candidate. According to the US Census Bureau it would be a nearly 50/50 race if we all voted with our nether regions.

So let me answer that question: NO I don't want to see "a" woman in the white house. I want to see the right PERSON elected to the office of President of the United States. That is something we should all feel passionately - regardless of our personal politics. Now, I do not assume that people who revere Hilliary Clinton do so simply based on her genitalia. I do however have personal experience with individuals who, when asked why are you so excited about her campaign? "Because she's a woman!" I am asking, begging, pleading with voters everywhere to dig deep and have more than that to stand on.

If you walk into a voting booth and vote based on skin color and/or gender you're voting with the wrong organ(s). While individual liberties and personal freedom can (and should) evoke an emotional response, voting for a candidate should be a choice made after careful research, educated thought development and constitutional review.

A candidates value should be based on facts, proposed authority and individual track records for integrity. Why?  They could look like you, laugh at the same things you laugh at - you might even share DNA with this person and yet your Values are completely different. In addiion the President does not actually have the individual authority to do what they want, when they want or why they want.

But they're the President!!!! 

Yes, if elected, the individual for whom you voted will serve as the President of the United States. President not dictator, not ruler, not king - President. In fact the 10th amendment affords liberties to each state of the union. Educate yourself on where the federal government has executed over-reach and where they have fallen short. Here I'll make it easy for you - Cornell Law typed up the Constitution and made each section clickable - thank me later.

Article II of the US Constitution, tells us what the President is responsible for - and what he or she may/may not do with/without the consent of House/Senate. Funny word - consent - 2/3 have to  concur; to certain things before the President is authorized to do them Article II, Section 2. That same majority can overturn Presidential actions Article I, Sections 8 and 9.

^^^ why do you think people freak out over mid-term elections? If you loathe the President you can elect Senators and Representatives who can vote in support of YOUR legislative value system. If you love the direction the President is headed in - Vote to keep like minded individuals in office or put them there.

Checks and Balances are a reality in our government. Each branch must rely on the other. Each serves a specific purpose, but none are independent of the other. Here is a pic of the basics - find more details here.

I could go on and on, but the bottom line is this, human beings like to belong. We like to feel we have a connection. We will hunt the most miniscule detail to say HEY!! I'm like you! However, basing your choice for an elected official on your appearance is naive at best. I can find someone who looks like you and shares NONE of your political or personal beliefs. I can find someone who looks nothing like you who can check every box on the electoral list.

Expand your horizons. Educate yourself on the issues (Fed/State) and VOTE.

America is a melting pot - not a sorting bin.

This one time.... at Army camp

There are very very few people that

1. have the unique displeasure of viewing every facet of my personality
2. can understand and manage those facets

One of these poor souls is my girl Carmella. She and I met through the Army (that is a story for another time). Like many of our fellow Soldiers we can read each other pretty clearly, and Carmella is no exception. She very very quickly identified that there are two Jingers. She labled them Pink Jinger and Green Jinger - PJ & GJ. I'll introduce you to Green Jinger first.

Carmella's Definitions of my Sybilnosis. 

Green jinger is the force of the force.   The know all, compassionate,  wealth of information soldier whose dedication to all around is not only unquestionable but absolutely the standard for standards. Aka - Evil Drill Sergeant Army Me.

Pink Jinger is the intelligent woman who is a funny, sarcastic,  mom that balances the world like the rest of us.  
Aka - Girly Me.


Why am I telling you this? To stroke my narcisitic ego of course! Duh. No, because sometimes the two entities escape their carefully constructed compartmentalized cells and colide. The results? Keep reading.

So this one time at Army camp (aka Ft AP Hill) we were running some STX (squad training exercise) lanes for some fellow NCOs.  As we sat in the bleachers, blue skies above, sun shining a soft breeze rustled the leaves above our heads.... resulting in what felt like a soft rain falling on our shoulders.

Rain? It was raining alright. Raining TICKS. Mother - FUDGING - LYME DISEASE CARRYING - OH MY LORD - PARASITIC - TICKS!!! (ticks are bad, I'm not crazy - they are bad - well I am crazy - but they are more bad than I am crazy - I read it on Fox News.)

I'm not a fan... Sorry that is a gross understatement I go from this:

 

to this... 

Speaking of screaming in the shower - let's get back to the story. Like every other poor bastard that weekend I performed the necessary tick check as I showered. Yep - good to go. No ticks.

Head back to our room, "Hey Battle, need you to check me for ticks"
Carmella being the selfless (and much less affected) person she is, "I got you... nope you're good", and she shuffles down the hall for her turn in the ice bucket (shower I mean shower).

I proceed to dry off and get dressed. As I pull my big girl panties on I feel a bump. On my ass.
"Oh God. Its a tick. I know its a tick. FML ITS A GD TICK" (that's in my head) externally I reach my hand back to see just maybe if its a grain of sand I can just brush off, don't want to over react (more). I brush my hand along my back side nope, doesn't budge "Oh God. Its a tick. I know its a tick. FML ITS A GD TICK"!!!!!!

CCCCCAAAAAAARRRRRRMMMMEEEEEELLLLLLLLAAAAAAA!

I am not whispering. I'm not projecting. I'm bellowing, and Carmella being the angel she is pops her head out of Elsa's Waterfall and says "You gotta tick?"

CAAARRRRRR-MEEEELLLL- AAAAHHHHH!!!!

"Oh shit, I'm comin'"

**she's gets me**

Carmella hustles her half soap dripping body back to our room and proceeds - to my extreme relief - to perform tick removal... but she hesitates... then the world stops.

"Oh God, Oh no" -- her face is buried in her hands. This can't be good.

"WHAT!!! WHAT IS IT!!! GET IT OFF ME!!"

"This is bad. Its a blue tick. They are really bad."

"WHAT? WHAT IS THAT? WHAT? PULL IT OFF!!! OH MY GOD!!"

"Ok you ready?" BOOM she rips it off.  "bwahahahahahahahahahaha, I am never gonna let you forget this!!! aha hahahahahahahaha PJ!!! hahahahahahahaha"

Ladies and Gentleman. I give you the blue tick nest.

That's right. A bedazzled blue tick from Carmella's phone found its way onto my happy ass.

Thank you Carmella - you saved me from myself yet again. I love you.

XO XO & Stuff

Jinger

The Wright Expectations

It is spring break, and unfortunately it has been a pretty dismal showing. Weather's been cold and rainy, and for a good ten-twelve days I've been fighting the worst cold/flu that I can remember. It was so bad at one point I quite literally wanted my mommy.

Anyway, today I finally felt human. I was able to extend breathing more than 17 seconds without hacking up a lung, and didn't have a slime eel oozing down my face. Normal? Meh, close enough. Mucinex w/ a shot of DayQuil and we're out the door.

The Mr. and I decided to make use of what time we did have left and roll on out to the Wright Brothers' National Memorial. I'd been there before as a kid, and we figured its a good place to spend a little time and make some fun memories with our kids.

Now, when I was about 9 (I think) my sisters and I went to the memorial with Dad. I remembered it wasn't the most thrilling of places - no bells and whistles - no videos or buttons to push, so we didn't want the kids to get the wrong idea about where we were going. Didn't want them to expect Disney and get the school library (although my oldest would be cool with that). Most parents have been on the receiving end of an "Ahhhhh, man is this it?" whine-a-thon.

So, what does any amazing, self-nominated mother of the year do in a situation like this? Ummm, tell your kids you're taking them to the new commissary (that's a fancy word for grocery stores found on military installations) for a case lot sale on Chicken.

The boys were thrilled. I mean who doesn't want to help mom carry cases of dark meat back to the truck? The girl, well... she's 6 so she hasn't hit the era of disgruntled everything, yet.

This is better than going to any park or commercial amusement center. Right?

Well, when we arrived at the memorial, much to our surprise the gates look very similar to that of a base. There's a uniformed person who takes your entry fee ($8 for adults, Kids 15 & Under Free) and directing traffic.

Our oldest "Oh my gosh mom? Really are we really here to get chicken?"

Don't worry we didn't torture them much longer.

Needless to say, we walked, we read signs we checked out the 1st, 2nd, 3rd and 4th landing points. We climbed to the monument and ran back down.  Had a picnic in the truck bed. The kids raced, jumped, laughed and were kind enough to pose for all of mom's required "look happy doggone it" pictures. Even logged a couple miles on the Charity Miles app for Team Red, White & Blue.

As we walked back to the truck the oldest says "Did we see everything?"
Me "Yeah, buddy what did you think?"
Bubs "Where do they sell the chicken?"

XO XO & Stuff,

Jinger

Admin Note ~ Comments

Here's the deal -

If you like what I have to say... comment or share.

If you don't like what I have to say... comment, email, message - SHARE and say I HATE THIS. Call me a jackass
.
.
.
.
.... there's one little thing ((wait let me make sure I used the right there/they're/their - yep - good - at least according to Wiki something)). If you don't sign your name, username, superhero alter ego made up title or ninja pseudonym.

I'll delete your comments.




XO XO & Stuff,

Jinger

Welcome to the Neighborhood

Yesterday I posted a very sarcastic and somewhat catty retort to someone's content.

We, the other author and I, are part of a community... a community that is perceived to be a united front. One that people assume toes the line of defense with unilateral support.

So, let's talk about our online neighborhood shall we?

Let's start with the loudest kids on the block. We've got the O'Doyle Clan.

The outspoken, in your face and don't care if your feelings are hurt OSMW and Dysfunctional Veterans. These beauties often shine a flashlight on the depths of our world we'd like to pretend don't exist. They hunt those people who work the system, and those parasites often find themselves toilet-papered by the O'Doyles.  They are the first to find jerk offs guilty of Stolen Valor and do everything in their power to make them infamous. They plaster abusers and users all over social media letting others know the dirt bags are among us.

On the dark side the O'Doyles can be bullies. They'll do anything for a laugh up to and including cannibalizing their own (I've been a target and I too have been accused, but I don't eat mutton I leave that for the wolves). It can be stomach turning to see the memes and caustic responses to seemingly innocent mistakes. It sucks to be on the receiving end, but even the O'Doyles serve their purpose.

Who's next, oh some of my personal favorites - the party boys. Their yards aren't perfectly manicured, but man the beer is cold, Jameson is plentiful and the grill is always ready to light somebody up.

 RangerUp & MBest11x are two of our neighbors who tell it like it is, but keep just a little trashy. (( Head over to the Rhino Den - you'll thank me later - well if you have a sense of humor and are remotely intelligent you will)). They value a little blunt force honesty as much as the next veteran, but their business savvy usually keeps them on the far side of the O'doyle Rules (see what I did there). 

When you aren't dying over their videos or Meme War Friday - these guys are raising money for Veteran Non Profits, offering entrepreneur training and truly making an impact for their brothers and sisters in arms. They're a little more deep than they might appear on the interwebz.

Shall we continue down the street? Hmmm who's that watering the flowers and dropping off a casserole?

Oh!! Its our Junior League!! ((if you are seriously confused by this reference click here))

By no means are they "junior" or small time; the publishing, blogging and FB giants of NextGen MilSpouse, SpouseBUZZ and those like them are out there trying to make a difference. They're hunting down the community's problems and working toward solutions. Their joining forces to share ideas and fix what's broken.

The flip side? Some of the neighbors see them as busy body know-it-alls, who's perceived prudish uniformity calls into question their objectivity on issues. As they get bigger some say they grow more detached.

What most of the neighbors forget, is that these are open forums. You can submit content to the editors. You can refute claims you believe to be untrue (comments, FB, email). They are trying to make a tangible difference, and usually their Hippocratic oath stands firm.

In between these notable few, are the every day individuals. The neighbors who get up, go to work and chat with the people in their circle. They gather in groups, (spouses groups, FRGs, FB social circles) and discuss what is going on with the people next door.

Sometimes, there's a whole bunch of cars parked in front of one house or another and phones ring with inquiries, statuses update with the latest gossip... sometimes its good; a birthday or a homecoming; others are bad... someone got caught cheating, another sold toys they got from charity - or God forbid - someone disagreed with a neighbor's opinion about our community.

Let's be honest. We don't love all our neighbors. We smile, we wave - we might even be cordial, but the reality is we don't all have the same beliefs. We don't all think the same thoughts, and we don't always get along.

As we walk down our online street dotted with all kinds of communication vehicles our various branches represented in countless ways - what we need to understand and respect is that wearing the uniform (or being married to someone that does) does not make us identical - nor does it equate to instantaneous deference.

I wore the uniform for 12 years that doesn't mean I will agree with every opinion uttered by someone who's served.  Just because I married a man in uniform, it doesn't mean I will support and defend every opinion of every spouse who opens his or her mouth to communicate publicly. I will not follow him, her or them blindly because "well they're a MilSpouse".

Should we attack the very humanity of an individual we disagree with? No. Should someone's marriage be dissected after they write a fluff piece that flopped? Absolutely not.

However, if you want carte blanche simply based upon having bought a house on our block, you can want in one hand and well... you know how the rest goes.

XO XO & Stuff,

Jinger

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?

http://underthecape.blogspot.com/

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.

http://underthecape.blogspot.com/