We headed out on the evening of September 9th for the long drive to Ft. Sill/Lawton, Oklahoma.
Earlier that day, Helena talked me into going to get our nails done. I have never had acrylic nails before... and I probably never will again. They make it so difficult to do just about everything! I can't type! I am having to make corrections to typos in EVERY single sentence. Ugh! They also get in the way of working with clay at school. But, yes, they are very pretty. Just so impractical that they are driving me crazy!
I realized as we pulled out of the driveway that I hadn't seen Tigger that day. More on that in the next post.
The drive was LONG and AWEFUL. I drove the first 9 hours through the night as the others napped. Helena was the lucky one in our group. She's the only one that can actually sleep in a car. Bill dozed off for a few hours, but Brenna (Will's girlfriend) stayed awake with me the whole way.
At the half way mark, and in the morning at about 7 or 8 am, Bill took over the driving and drove us the rest of the way. I have to say, I LOVE GPS! Back in the day, we had to drive with a great big road atlas in the navigator's lap as we traveled. Now, you just enter your destination into the GPS and it programs your route and lets you know exactly where and when to turn. That was handy, because in Texas and Oklahoma the GPS sent us on some side roads that we would have shot right past. Taking those side roads instead of the main roads cut at least 20-30 miles off our trip each way. Done!
I will say now that Oklahoma is FLAT!!! The "mountains" near the base were hills. HILLS, people! LOL! And the grass barely rates the name. But, boy, do they have a lot of sky! I thought there was a lot of sky here in the high desert... NOPE! They have us beat!
Helena loved the base. Our IDs were scanned every time we entered, which was about twice to four times a day. The MPs manning the gates were super nice, though. The base is large and acts as a city of its own, with schools, stores, housing, and even gas stations. But, everything very orderly. VERY. Helena said it reminded her of Top Gun. LOL!
Our hotel was adequate, but not luxurious. We were staying on base, so it had a military feel to it. Meaning the stairwell looked like it needed an upgrade back in 1950s, but the rooms were clean and only felt 20-30 years outdated. LOL. The on base hotel serves primarily to house military members who are on post for training that is so temporary that it isn't worth the hassle of setting up housing. So, lots of uniforms everywhere. Actually, there were uniforms everywhere all over the town of Lawton, too. The town would not exist if it weren't for the military base, so it is just swimming in patriotism and all things military.
We arrived on the afternoon of the 10th and settled into our hotel to get a good night's sleep, because Family Day started bright and early on the 11th. At check in, I met another Army Mom, Patti Warren, whose son was in Will's platoon! She was there alone, so I invited her to join us in the dining hall for breakfast the next morning. There was a Wednesday evening meal served by the hotel, too, which Brenna and I went to, but Bill and Helena chose to remain in our suite. I thought it was pretty yummy, but Bill would not have been able to eat it. We ended up having Patti join us most mornings for breakfast and following us to the various functions in her car, so she wouldn't get lost.
Family Day found us in front of Will's Basic Training Barracks. There were tents set up (in case it rained, which it didn't) and bleachers for us to sit on. There were vendors selling pictures, dvds, t-shirts, and necklaces. I bought a necklace and a dvd. Will had already bought the pictures.
They marched out in their tropics dress uniform... short sleeve white top with the dress blues pants. They looked amazing! A quick demonstration of some of the skills they learned and some instructions on what to do and not to do on leave, then they were released to their families!
It was so good to hug my boy! He's grown taller! He walks with precision and bearing, now. He has also gained a lot of patience, He's always been pretty short tempered with his dad, flying off the handle in anger when Bill gets too goofy and starts teasing him. Now, however, Will just patiently rides it out. He's a grown up! Wow!
I noticed right away that he had a bruise on his right cheekbone. I asked him about it and he acted surprised. He didn't even know it was there. He couldn't even tell me where it came from.
We drove him to our hotel, the PX, and off post to the mall. We hunted down the Verizon store and took him in to get his phone upgraded. We ended up with a smart phone for him, and tablets for him and his sister. LOL! I had to up our data package to handle the extra load. I can't really afford that, so Helena is going to start paying her portion of the phone bill, and Will is going to start paying his portion when he gets home from his training.
We had lunch at Whataburger. I'd never eaten there, but Will's Texan buddies told him he had to try it, so we did. We had dinner by ordering pizza.
Will was antsy around other people. He didn't want to be around so many uniforms, because pretty much everyone we passed outranked him, and he didn't know if he was supposed to salute officers while we were shopping in the PX. So we took him back to the hotel and took him swimming in the pool. Even that made him nervous. He swam in his PT shorts, which was allowed by the DS, but he was still nervous that he was doing something wrong and would get in trouble. Still, we picked the only warm and sunny moment of the whole weekend to hit the pool, so that made me happy!
We had to have Will back to his barracks by 2000 (8pm). All the soldiers and their parents loitered near the barracks up until the moment they all had to go. Then we went back to the hotel and Helena and I went down to the hotel gym to get our exercising done. That room was stuffy and hot! Ugh. Still, I got it in.
Graduation was held off post in the McMahon Auditorium. I intended to arrive around 9 am to stand in line because it started at 10. I lost track of the time in the morning and we ended up arriving at 8 am instead. Oops! We were pretty much the first people there. We saw the soldiers pull up on Army buses and saw Will as he went inside. Actually, he saw us first while he was still on the bus. He dropped a window and yelled at us! :) My cell phone chose that moment to freeze, though, so I don't have a picture of it.
We stood in line for two hours. Well, I should say, Brenna and I stood in line. Helena and Bill went back to the car to stay warm. It was cold and wet, with a fine drizzle coming down. As the line grew, I saw some of the other Army Moms from the Fb support group, so I was able to go say "hi" and take some selfies with them. They were the ones who supported me through having my son gone to BCT. I often felt like I annoyed everyone at home, because they thought I was too emotional and why didn't I get over it, already? The other Moms on the support group understood me and what I was going through better than my own family did.
Graduation had me emotionally strung out. When they opened the doors to allow those with disabilities to enter, everyone else came surging forward and I went from being at the front of the line to being behind about 20-30 other people. It got me riled up. We were all there for the same purpose, I just found the "want to get to" attitude that we constantly see everywhere else to be so out of place in that venue. I admit I was really upset when we first got in to our seats and when Helena said, "we should have gone up on the balcony, the camera angle is better from up there", I completely lost it. I flared up at her and told her to just shut up already! I was in tears, because I felt that she was right, but there was nothing I could do about it, because the house filled up instantly. I was a basket case.
It turned out that we were in the best seats of all, actually! The soldiers came in and sat all down the middle of the main floor and we could see where Will was sitting. All the parents suddenly crowded the aisles, taking pictures of all the soldiers sitting stone still. Will said it felt like they were animals in the zoo having tourists take their pictures. The crowd started thinning out, so I got up to try to take a picture, but right then a drill sergeant came down the aisle and instructed everyone to take their seats. So, another photo I didn't get.
Oh! While we were in the lobby waiting to get into the auditorium, a Drill Sergeant was wending his way through the crowd when Bill saw his nameplate was ROSS, Will's Drill Sergeant! Bill spoke out and told him that Will liked him. Oi! I knew that would have repercussions for Will, and sure enough; after everything was over, Will told us that DS Ross called Will out and informed him that "apparently I'm friends with your family, now". LOL!
The graduation was short and to the point. The moment the guest speaker mentioned these soldiers' bravery for enlisting in a time of war, a mother right behind us lost it and began weeping uncontrollably. The 200+ soldiers stood and recited the Soldier's Creed, then re-took the oath of service. That was a powerful moment! The soldiers came up to the stage one by one, recited their name into the microphone, then marched past each of their Drill Sergeants and Officers, shaking hands with each of them.
And then, it was over! They marched out together singing a funny cadence about Drill Sergeants ("Drill Sergeant Won't You Leave Me Alone") and we worked our way out of the crush of people to find Will outside. Brenna and I got separated from Bill and Helena. I was craning my neck to try to find them and find Will. I had other people pressed in on me on all sides... so I did not see the curb right at my feet! I stumbled and fell! t was so embarrassing! I skinned my knee and wounded my pride.
But, I finally found them. Will was in his dress blues, including the jacket. He looked fantastic! We got to have him with us until 1900 (7:00 pm) that day. He wanted to see the Artillery Museum on base... which was outdoors. So, we wandered around in the rain for an hour or so. My umbrella did not survive the encounter. It did great all the way until it was time to get into the car, then it caught a tricky gust of wind and turned inside out and sideways. There was no fixing it. We ended up throwing it out before we left.
We had dinner at an all you can eat Chinese buffet. I honestly don't even remember much else. Oh, we went to a local KMart to get him some hangars for the garment bag we had bought him the day before to put his dress uniforms into. Other than that, I can't remember.
We took him back to the barracks right after dinner. We all needed to go to the bathroom, so Will showed us where those were on the ground floor of the building. I had already read that we were allowed to be in that part of the building, but apparently Helena didn't hear me say that, because she was terrified we were going to be chewed out by a drill sergeant. She was skittish coming out of the bathroom and nearly jumped through her skin when we walked out and right into a platoon of soldiers-in-training and their two Drill Sergeants! LOL! She said that it was one of the worst experiences of her life and she never wanted to do that again.
1900 came too soon! We all stood around outside his barracks until we had to say a final goodbye.
Hugs and kisses and then he was gone. I cried.
He left on a bus the very next morning for his journey to AIT (advanced individual training) at Ft. Leonard Wood, MO. We left for our arduous trip back home.
And now we are on a new countdown to AIT graduation. He will graduate from Chemical Weapons School(barring any problems) on Nov. 21st. Then he just has a short 3 week training on the vehicles his unit uses, and he'll be home in time for Christmas!
Army Update
Ever since that first Sunday phone call, we have been fortunate to get a phone call every Sunday. I say fortunate, because I know of other battalions who have their Sunday phone calls taken away.
It is SO good to hear from Will every Sunday! He does not get to pick the time or the duration of the phone call. His Drill Sergeants seem to like 2:30-3:00 Oklahoma time for phone calls. That means right during Sunday School for me. But, I don't mind! I have had to step out of my class for the past two Sundays to take his call, but that is just the way it is. Will's phone call trumps everything else!
Every week he updates me on what is going on. A few weeks ago he told me about qualifying on the Rifle range. His practice scores were in the sharpshooter range, one away from expert, actually. But on the day of the test he did not score as well and "only got marksman". I told him I was proud of him! He will have to pass rifle qualifications every year and I'm sure he'll get that expert level next time around!
Last week he told me all about hand grenade training. He enjoyed it very much! He wrote to us about how amazing it was to feel the shock wave of the explosion through the cement wall of the bunker and to hear the shrapnel hit the front of it and fly over his head. Oi! Of a grenade that HE had thrown! I did get to see a picture of him in the basic training photos for rifles and hand grenades. I'd love to post the pictures, but they are copyrighted, so I don't have the right to post them. I plan to buy them, once he is done with basic so I can get all the photos I find of him in one order.
It is funny. I've been so happy for him. He sounds happy! What he is doing is crazy hard! Marching 10K with full battle gear. Training in 100+ degree heat. He says they are downwind from the sewage treatment plant and it often stinks. But he is enjoying it and I can hear the confidence in his voice. It has eased my worry, to some extent to hear that confidence.
This week they did field exercises where they had to infiltrate a machine gun position while under fire during the dark of night. It sounded terrifying! He admitted it got his adrenaline pumping and was intense, but he said he enjoyed it. They managed to take a prisoner, and deliver him (her?) back to "base". War games. He says he got scraped up a bit, but it was awesome.
Today, he told me something that made me burst with both pride and worry!
He has been made a squad leader.
!!
Oh, I am proud of him! Oh, I am worried for him! He has told me that not all of the guys like him. :( My momma's heart hurts to hear that, but of course, we can't expect everyone we meet to like us. I certainly don't like everyone I meet. Yet he has to step up and be a leader. I hope and pray he will make a good leader. I hope and pray the soldiers in his squad will respond well to him. So I am asking for your prayers, as well. Pray for our soldiers everywhere... and pray for my son!
So, the worry is back with a vengeance.
2 weeks
3 days
17 hours
37 minutes
42 seconds
Until I see my son! Not that I'm keeping track... ;)
First Phone Call
E 1-40 Field Artillery has "phased up" to white phase!
Red phase (the first phase) is the toughest, because they are all being broken down as civilians in order to be built up as soldiers. So, no privileges at all. It typically lasts 3 or more weeks. 4 weeks is not unusual, some platoons stay in red phase for 8 weeks or more of the 10 weeks of training! Ugh.
We got lucky! Will's platoon phased up after the minimum of 3 weeks. Hooray! Or should I say "Hooah!"
White phase is the second of the three phases in BCT. In white phase, soldiers can earn the privilege of Sunday phone calls to loved ones. Notice, that is an earned privilege, not a guarantee. So, if someone in the platoon screws up severely enough sometime during the week, phone privileges can be revoked for the entire platoon. Double ugh.
I knew we might get a call today.
I skipped Sacrament meeting. What if the call came right in the middle of a prayer or the passing of the sacraments? I couldn't risk it.
I planned to go to the second hour of church, because I had a Sunday School lesson to teach. I'd just duck out and bail on my class if I had to! And, of course, right as I was about to leave the house...
...we got the call!!!
Oh, he sounded SO tired! I could hear that his voice was raspy. He confirmed that he had a cold. Everybody there has sore throats, he said. It was hard to hear him and hard for him to hear us, because he was outside "on the quad", and from time to time platoons would quick march past him screaming cadences at the top of their lungs. Wonder why all the sore throats? Partly because of all the shouting they have to do, partly because of all the germs being shared from all over the country.
I tried to contact my Sunday School teaching partner using my daughter's phone, to let her know I'd be very late and that I was oh so sorry (since I was the one who had prepared the lesson). Then I just had to let it go, because I was choosing my son at that moment.
Will told me that the bunk flipping was actually done by the drill sergeants when the bunk was not made properly. His bunk had been flipped several times at the beginning, but he'd finally gotten the knack of making a crisp bunk. He said that if the ds found anyone's locker left unlocked while they were out training, the ds would dump the contents out on the floor.
He also said that he likes his drill sergeant, and that they don't have to do sit ups or push ups for their mail very often, and their letters are private. Yay!
In every letter I send, I include a printed out quote. Usually uplifting in some way, sometimes just humorous. Once I sent him a picture of a soldier doing a "snow angel" on a floor covered in bullet casings. It said "Don't mind me... ...I'm just making Freedom Angels!" He really enjoyed that one and showed it to some of the other guys, who also loved it... so they pinned it up on the community board for everybody to enjoy! :) Hooah!
He said he is enjoying the shooting ranges and said he is holding his own in everything they have done so far. He did mention that his rifle was not zeroed properly at first, and he had to get some help in getting it fixed. That doesn't surprise me. I read somewhere that even if you have experience with zeroing your own rifle, you should let the ds help you zero the rifle they issue to you.
He was allowed 30 minutes of time to talk. He spent 25 of those minutes with us, then told us he wanted to try to call a friend with his last 5 minutes. They were supposed to have an hour, but someone lost their rifle (um, what? How does that even happen?!), so the whole platoon had to spend 30 minutes looking for it until it was found and lost that time for phone calls. I hope next week they not only get to call, but that they get the whole hour!
I was happy and upbeat until I realized it was time to say goodbye. That was really difficult! I said a tearful goodbye, full of "I Love You!"
And you know what? As soon as I hung up, I hurried to church and discovered that Sacrament meeting had run over time and I wasn't late to teach my lesson at all! One of God's tender mercies! I felt so very blessed.
I'm not going to stop my daily letters. I still want him to look forward to mail call every day!
Red phase (the first phase) is the toughest, because they are all being broken down as civilians in order to be built up as soldiers. So, no privileges at all. It typically lasts 3 or more weeks. 4 weeks is not unusual, some platoons stay in red phase for 8 weeks or more of the 10 weeks of training! Ugh.
We got lucky! Will's platoon phased up after the minimum of 3 weeks. Hooray! Or should I say "Hooah!"
White phase is the second of the three phases in BCT. In white phase, soldiers can earn the privilege of Sunday phone calls to loved ones. Notice, that is an earned privilege, not a guarantee. So, if someone in the platoon screws up severely enough sometime during the week, phone privileges can be revoked for the entire platoon. Double ugh.
I knew we might get a call today.
I skipped Sacrament meeting. What if the call came right in the middle of a prayer or the passing of the sacraments? I couldn't risk it.
I planned to go to the second hour of church, because I had a Sunday School lesson to teach. I'd just duck out and bail on my class if I had to! And, of course, right as I was about to leave the house...
...we got the call!!!
Oh, he sounded SO tired! I could hear that his voice was raspy. He confirmed that he had a cold. Everybody there has sore throats, he said. It was hard to hear him and hard for him to hear us, because he was outside "on the quad", and from time to time platoons would quick march past him screaming cadences at the top of their lungs. Wonder why all the sore throats? Partly because of all the shouting they have to do, partly because of all the germs being shared from all over the country.
I tried to contact my Sunday School teaching partner using my daughter's phone, to let her know I'd be very late and that I was oh so sorry (since I was the one who had prepared the lesson). Then I just had to let it go, because I was choosing my son at that moment.
Will told me that the bunk flipping was actually done by the drill sergeants when the bunk was not made properly. His bunk had been flipped several times at the beginning, but he'd finally gotten the knack of making a crisp bunk. He said that if the ds found anyone's locker left unlocked while they were out training, the ds would dump the contents out on the floor.
He also said that he likes his drill sergeant, and that they don't have to do sit ups or push ups for their mail very often, and their letters are private. Yay!
In every letter I send, I include a printed out quote. Usually uplifting in some way, sometimes just humorous. Once I sent him a picture of a soldier doing a "snow angel" on a floor covered in bullet casings. It said "Don't mind me... ...I'm just making Freedom Angels!" He really enjoyed that one and showed it to some of the other guys, who also loved it... so they pinned it up on the community board for everybody to enjoy! :) Hooah!
He said he is enjoying the shooting ranges and said he is holding his own in everything they have done so far. He did mention that his rifle was not zeroed properly at first, and he had to get some help in getting it fixed. That doesn't surprise me. I read somewhere that even if you have experience with zeroing your own rifle, you should let the ds help you zero the rifle they issue to you.
He was allowed 30 minutes of time to talk. He spent 25 of those minutes with us, then told us he wanted to try to call a friend with his last 5 minutes. They were supposed to have an hour, but someone lost their rifle (um, what? How does that even happen?!), so the whole platoon had to spend 30 minutes looking for it until it was found and lost that time for phone calls. I hope next week they not only get to call, but that they get the whole hour!
I was happy and upbeat until I realized it was time to say goodbye. That was really difficult! I said a tearful goodbye, full of "I Love You!"
And you know what? As soon as I hung up, I hurried to church and discovered that Sacrament meeting had run over time and I wasn't late to teach my lesson at all! One of God's tender mercies! I felt so very blessed.
I'm not going to stop my daily letters. I still want him to look forward to mail call every day!
Roller Coaster
I don't think I like being an Army Mom.
I don't like the news. No, I hate the news. Every geo-political news story seems scary to me. As I lay in bed at night, my horrid mind replays all the bad things happening in the world, and my over-active imagination sees my son heading to the battle front in one of a half dozen places around the world. I have to keep reminding myself that he is "safely" still at Basic Training. And even when he is done with training, he is coming home to serve in a Reserve Unit.
Ha! "Safe" is a relative term. I know he is physically safe. No harm will come to him, unless he pulls a muscle, or something. Still, I worry.
I joined a couple of Facebook support groups for the families of soldiers doing basic training at Ft. Sill. Some of the support is great! Some of the "support" actually adds to my stress levels.
For instance, soldiers are allowed only a few, specific items to be shipped to them from their families. Anything on the "contraband" list will result in punishment (sit ups or push ups) for the soldier, and possibly for his/her entire platoon. I read of one soldier that got a bag of candy. His entire platoon had to do push ups while he sat at a table in the middle of the room and ate the entire bag of candy in one sitting. If someone's parent gets a little too eager and tags or posts to the pictures on the battalion Facebook wall? Yeah, sit ups for EVERYBODY! Sometimes, it is just the soldier that gets singled out. Like, say your family sends you a postcard instead of a letter? The Drill Sergeant is going to read that out loud to the entire platoon for you. How thoughtful. Some parents have a wicked sense of humor and think sending "Monkey Butt" powder or "Boogie Wipes" to their soldier is a hoot! Maybe their soldier has a great sense of humor, but what if the Drill Sergeant is in a bad mood for some reason? Sit ups galore, and they just doomed their soldier to be nicknamed "Monkey Butt" or "Booger" for the duration of basic.
Will is supposed to be "phasing up" from Red Phase to White Phase, soon. That has less to do with what they are learning and more to do with the level of restrictions placed on them. During the Red Phase, the soldiers in training have NO privileges. No phone calls, in particular. Red Phase generally lasts 3 weeks, but can last much longer if the platoon won't settle down and be disciplined. When they move to White Phase, they will be allowed their phones on Sundays to make short calls home. Oh, I can't wait! But I also know (from the support groups) that often times that phone privilege is lost for the entire platoon due to the bad behavior of ONE soldier. If any one idiot decides to mouth off to the Drill Sergeant, I won't get to hear from my son. So, now I am praying for an entire platoon of soldiers to keep their noses clean, just so I can hear my son's voice!
We already know we missed out on a phone call back on Independence Day because somebody cussed in formation and wouldn't fess up about it to the Drill Sergeant.
I am hearing that certain platoons are severely struggling with behavior issues. I haven't heard of problems with Will's platoon, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he's gotten lucky and been placed in a more mature group! I am hoping that most of what I'm hearing about problem platoons are actually Split Training platoons. Split Training means 17 year old soldiers who are doing basic training during the summer before their senior year of high school, then the AIT (advanced individual training) or job training next summer after they graduate. The Army will run entire groups of kids as Split Training platoons in the summer time. A whole platoon of 17 year olds. Shudder! A normal platoon will be varied in age from the almost 18 year olds that barely graduated from high school to the "gramps" of the platoon at 35, the maximum age you can enlist in the Army. That wide of a range hopefully helps elevate the maturity level, right?
And then there's the tearful and panicked mother on the support group who reports that her SIT (soldier in training) missed passing the riffle qualifications by one shot, and is being given the choice of being "recycled" or go home! "Recycled" means starting basic training over. She is panicked because she can't contact her to talk it out and can only hope she makes the right choice.
Great. Something else to worry about! Bill says not to worry, Will is gonna pass his qualifications. I believe that. I have confidence in my son and his abilities. I just have to tell my imagination to shut up! At least I don't have to worry about his running qualification times! He told me in a recent letter that he ran a 6:36 mile! (I struggle with a 10 minute mile, shhh!)
I have started stalking the mailman. I have discovered that he normally delivers our mail at about 10 am. So, when he didn't show up and didn't show up... and it was 4 pm and still no mail... I was about to get on the phone to the post office to find out JUST WHAT IS GOING ON ANYWAYS... when he showed up at 4:05...... And then there was no letter. What a let down! But, at least my letter to Will got picked up! I was ready to snatch it out of the box and drive it down to the post office myself to make sure it made today's post!
Oh. One more thing. Apparently today someone started a rumor that there was an active shooter running around on the base.
Just a rumor people. Go about your business. There is nothing to see here!
AURGH!!!
I am fine with the fact that it was only a rumor. Great. Glad to hear it.
But, did you realize that I had not once connected other base shootings to a potential for a threat to my own son until just this very minute?! Thanks, you moron! Whomever you are starting pernicious rumors! I was happily ignorant until now. Sheesh. Now my imagination is gonna have a field day with that one tonight as I lay in bed trying to go to sleep without watering my pillow.
Ah. Being an Army Mom is mentally hard.
BUT I FEEL SO VERY PROUD OF HIM!!! I want to shout it from the roof tops! I want to tell every stranger I meet, "Hello. Nice to meet you. Did you know my son is in the Army? Why, yes, he is brave and wonderful and amazing and all of those other truly awesomely nice things! He's my hero and I just wanted you to know about him, so he can be your hero, too!"
A little over the top?
That's the roller coaster I'm on right now, folks! When is this ride over? ;)
I don't like the news. No, I hate the news. Every geo-political news story seems scary to me. As I lay in bed at night, my horrid mind replays all the bad things happening in the world, and my over-active imagination sees my son heading to the battle front in one of a half dozen places around the world. I have to keep reminding myself that he is "safely" still at Basic Training. And even when he is done with training, he is coming home to serve in a Reserve Unit.
Ha! "Safe" is a relative term. I know he is physically safe. No harm will come to him, unless he pulls a muscle, or something. Still, I worry.
I joined a couple of Facebook support groups for the families of soldiers doing basic training at Ft. Sill. Some of the support is great! Some of the "support" actually adds to my stress levels.
For instance, soldiers are allowed only a few, specific items to be shipped to them from their families. Anything on the "contraband" list will result in punishment (sit ups or push ups) for the soldier, and possibly for his/her entire platoon. I read of one soldier that got a bag of candy. His entire platoon had to do push ups while he sat at a table in the middle of the room and ate the entire bag of candy in one sitting. If someone's parent gets a little too eager and tags or posts to the pictures on the battalion Facebook wall? Yeah, sit ups for EVERYBODY! Sometimes, it is just the soldier that gets singled out. Like, say your family sends you a postcard instead of a letter? The Drill Sergeant is going to read that out loud to the entire platoon for you. How thoughtful. Some parents have a wicked sense of humor and think sending "Monkey Butt" powder or "Boogie Wipes" to their soldier is a hoot! Maybe their soldier has a great sense of humor, but what if the Drill Sergeant is in a bad mood for some reason? Sit ups galore, and they just doomed their soldier to be nicknamed "Monkey Butt" or "Booger" for the duration of basic.
Will is supposed to be "phasing up" from Red Phase to White Phase, soon. That has less to do with what they are learning and more to do with the level of restrictions placed on them. During the Red Phase, the soldiers in training have NO privileges. No phone calls, in particular. Red Phase generally lasts 3 weeks, but can last much longer if the platoon won't settle down and be disciplined. When they move to White Phase, they will be allowed their phones on Sundays to make short calls home. Oh, I can't wait! But I also know (from the support groups) that often times that phone privilege is lost for the entire platoon due to the bad behavior of ONE soldier. If any one idiot decides to mouth off to the Drill Sergeant, I won't get to hear from my son. So, now I am praying for an entire platoon of soldiers to keep their noses clean, just so I can hear my son's voice!
We already know we missed out on a phone call back on Independence Day because somebody cussed in formation and wouldn't fess up about it to the Drill Sergeant.
I am hearing that certain platoons are severely struggling with behavior issues. I haven't heard of problems with Will's platoon, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he's gotten lucky and been placed in a more mature group! I am hoping that most of what I'm hearing about problem platoons are actually Split Training platoons. Split Training means 17 year old soldiers who are doing basic training during the summer before their senior year of high school, then the AIT (advanced individual training) or job training next summer after they graduate. The Army will run entire groups of kids as Split Training platoons in the summer time. A whole platoon of 17 year olds. Shudder! A normal platoon will be varied in age from the almost 18 year olds that barely graduated from high school to the "gramps" of the platoon at 35, the maximum age you can enlist in the Army. That wide of a range hopefully helps elevate the maturity level, right?
And then there's the tearful and panicked mother on the support group who reports that her SIT (soldier in training) missed passing the riffle qualifications by one shot, and is being given the choice of being "recycled" or go home! "Recycled" means starting basic training over. She is panicked because she can't contact her to talk it out and can only hope she makes the right choice.
Great. Something else to worry about! Bill says not to worry, Will is gonna pass his qualifications. I believe that. I have confidence in my son and his abilities. I just have to tell my imagination to shut up! At least I don't have to worry about his running qualification times! He told me in a recent letter that he ran a 6:36 mile! (I struggle with a 10 minute mile, shhh!)
I have started stalking the mailman. I have discovered that he normally delivers our mail at about 10 am. So, when he didn't show up and didn't show up... and it was 4 pm and still no mail... I was about to get on the phone to the post office to find out JUST WHAT IS GOING ON ANYWAYS... when he showed up at 4:05...... And then there was no letter. What a let down! But, at least my letter to Will got picked up! I was ready to snatch it out of the box and drive it down to the post office myself to make sure it made today's post!
Oh. One more thing. Apparently today someone started a rumor that there was an active shooter running around on the base.
Just a rumor people. Go about your business. There is nothing to see here!
AURGH!!!
I am fine with the fact that it was only a rumor. Great. Glad to hear it.
But, did you realize that I had not once connected other base shootings to a potential for a threat to my own son until just this very minute?! Thanks, you moron! Whomever you are starting pernicious rumors! I was happily ignorant until now. Sheesh. Now my imagination is gonna have a field day with that one tonight as I lay in bed trying to go to sleep without watering my pillow.
Ah. Being an Army Mom is mentally hard.
BUT I FEEL SO VERY PROUD OF HIM!!! I want to shout it from the roof tops! I want to tell every stranger I meet, "Hello. Nice to meet you. Did you know my son is in the Army? Why, yes, he is brave and wonderful and amazing and all of those other truly awesomely nice things! He's my hero and I just wanted you to know about him, so he can be your hero, too!"
A little over the top?
That's the roller coaster I'm on right now, folks! When is this ride over? ;)
Missing Summers Past
Do I have a bunch of other things I should be doing? Of course. If I wanted to do them, though, don't you think I would have started on them by now? Sheesh. Summer is my time to procrastinate horribly on all things not lazy and summery.
Now that we have that out of the way, I have to tell you why this is the hardest summer, ever!
No, really.
Summers had been my time to play with my kids. We hung out at the pool, or the lake, or the water park (notice the water related theme?), we watched movies, or we wandered around town looking for fun stuff to do. We'd flood the backyard and paddle around in it, then watch the dragonflies dance across the makeshift pond. When they were little, they'd have sleep outs in the tree house up in the cherry tree. Later, the backyard campouts moved down to a tent in the yard when they got too big for the tree house. Their friends came over and we had late night bonfires, roasting hot dogs and s'mores while lazily listening to the crickets and the train whistle in the distance while counting stars. Sweet summertime teen romances flared up only to die down with the start of a new school year.
My summer was full of my kids.
Not so much, anymore.
Helena works full time. Her boyfriend has relocated to Oregon, so when she's not at work, she's Skyping him. That is how it should be. When she has a day off, we spend it together, so I'm not totally alone, but her days off are few and far between. It's not the same as when we all had summer vacation together. She has grown up.
Will is gone. We write letters. He writes letters. I had NO IDEA how difficult this would be for me. I think about him constantly. Correction, I worry about him constantly! He is doing something so difficult, only made worse by the disgusting heat he has to do it in! I can't fall asleep at night for worrying about him. I wake up early worrying about him. If I could siphon off some of my energy and willpower and send it to him, I would in a heartbeat.
I thought I was prepared for this. After all, I was an Army Sister, and a Navy Sister-in-Law. And I was a Marines Step-Mom. And I did worry about my brothers and my step son. But not like this! I can't decide if it is just because he is my youngest, or if it is because we share a special bond that is rare for a teen son and his Mom. All I know is that I pray for him almost constantly. I watch the news with extra concern. It feels like the world is imploding and I want to keep my son safe, but I can't because he is a soldier and that is what he chose.
I have always been a worrier, anyways. I used to worry about the kids walking home from Elementary School. I worried when they got their driver's license. I worried when they went on their first dates. I worry whenever they have to face something new.
It is amazing I don't have a stomach full of ulcer holes, actually.
So, I wish I could go back in time and relive those summers past.
If you are in the thick of a child filled summer, CHERISH IT! It will not come again! Play with them! Swim with them! Forget about the chores! Who cares about the house!
Go!
Do stuff WITH the kids!
Make memories and savor every moment.
Now that we have that out of the way, I have to tell you why this is the hardest summer, ever!
No, really.
Summers had been my time to play with my kids. We hung out at the pool, or the lake, or the water park (notice the water related theme?), we watched movies, or we wandered around town looking for fun stuff to do. We'd flood the backyard and paddle around in it, then watch the dragonflies dance across the makeshift pond. When they were little, they'd have sleep outs in the tree house up in the cherry tree. Later, the backyard campouts moved down to a tent in the yard when they got too big for the tree house. Their friends came over and we had late night bonfires, roasting hot dogs and s'mores while lazily listening to the crickets and the train whistle in the distance while counting stars. Sweet summertime teen romances flared up only to die down with the start of a new school year.
My summer was full of my kids.
Not so much, anymore.
Helena works full time. Her boyfriend has relocated to Oregon, so when she's not at work, she's Skyping him. That is how it should be. When she has a day off, we spend it together, so I'm not totally alone, but her days off are few and far between. It's not the same as when we all had summer vacation together. She has grown up.
Will is gone. We write letters. He writes letters. I had NO IDEA how difficult this would be for me. I think about him constantly. Correction, I worry about him constantly! He is doing something so difficult, only made worse by the disgusting heat he has to do it in! I can't fall asleep at night for worrying about him. I wake up early worrying about him. If I could siphon off some of my energy and willpower and send it to him, I would in a heartbeat.
I thought I was prepared for this. After all, I was an Army Sister, and a Navy Sister-in-Law. And I was a Marines Step-Mom. And I did worry about my brothers and my step son. But not like this! I can't decide if it is just because he is my youngest, or if it is because we share a special bond that is rare for a teen son and his Mom. All I know is that I pray for him almost constantly. I watch the news with extra concern. It feels like the world is imploding and I want to keep my son safe, but I can't because he is a soldier and that is what he chose.
I have always been a worrier, anyways. I used to worry about the kids walking home from Elementary School. I worried when they got their driver's license. I worried when they went on their first dates. I worry whenever they have to face something new.
It is amazing I don't have a stomach full of ulcer holes, actually.
So, I wish I could go back in time and relive those summers past.
If you are in the thick of a child filled summer, CHERISH IT! It will not come again! Play with them! Swim with them! Forget about the chores! Who cares about the house!
Go!
Do stuff WITH the kids!
Make memories and savor every moment.
Letters in the Mail
It has been nearly 3 weeks since Will left for Basic Training.
It feels like forever. It feels like he just left yesterday.
Time is weird.
On the day that he left, I kept my phone in my hand the entire afternoon and evening. I knew his plane took off around 1:00ish, so I started being phone crazy around 3. At 4:45, he sent me a text to let me know their plane had landed in Oklahoma. That was bonus communication no. 1.
My friend, Michelle, invited me out to get a treat that evening, but I asked her for a raincheck, because I was so paranoid I'd miss the official one-and-only phone call from my boy.
He called at 10:00 that night. But, it wasn't the official phone call. It was bonus communication no. 2! It was 11 pm for him, and the recruits were all sent to bed without doing the shake-down. So, he was able to call me and actually TALK about how things were going for him. Oh, that made me so happy!!! He couldn't talk for long, because it was 11 pm and they had to get up at 4 am. He did say he spent most of the evening lining up in various places and "getting yelled at a lot". He sounded happy.
The official phone call came at 3:30 our time the following morning. At 4:30 for him, the Drill Sergeants stood over all the recruits and listened to them as they recited a canned speech about arriving safely and surrendering their phones, I love you and goodbye. And, that was it. I could hear many other voices in the background saying the same thing into their phones as Will was saying it to me.
I just said "I love you, I love you, I love you" over and over just before he hung up.
And, that was it.
On July 9th, I got bonus communication no. 3! Helena and I were out and about shopping when I got a phone call from Will! I am so grateful that I had my phone in my hand at that moment, because I would have been so upset if I had missed the call! It was another canned speech about "crossing the tracks" from Processing to Basic. Again, I just said "I love you, I love you, I love you!"
So, now I am phone obsessed. My kids always complained that it was impossible to get me on the phone because I never hear it ring. Not anymore. I guarantee, if you call, I will notice it, now. They were supposed to be granted a holiday phone call home on the 4th of July, but someone in the formation swore and wouldn't fess up to it, so they all lost phone privileges. I never know when a phone call might be granted, so I have to be prepared!
Now, about those letters.
I started writing letters on the very first day he was gone. I had no way to mail them to him, of course, but that didn't stop me. I had at least 12 letters piled up before I actually got an address, so his first packet of mail was slightly fat. :)
Will's first two letters home were short, upbeat, and awesome. The first two letters were from Processing, or just after. The third letter is the one that tore at my heartstrings.
His most recent letter said that he felt sick. Physically, that is. And homesick. Oh, that just tore me to pieces. When he wrote that letter, he hadn't received any letters from home yet, because that is the frustrating fact of snail mail. Your communications with each other often cross paths.
Let me back up. His homesick letter was written on the 12th. The day before he went to church. On Sunday the 13th, I got a phone call from a service missionary member (an Elder Tomani) in the church there who told me that Will had come to church, filled out the information form, and checked the box asking that they call his family to let us know he was doing alright. (This was bonus communication no. 4!) Elder Tomani is the one who was able to give me Will's mailing address. I mailed his big packet of 12+ letters the very next morning, the 14th. (Will's first letter hadn't had a return address on it, because when he wrote it, he was still in Processing and didn't have an address to give me.) I didn't get the letter he wrote on the 12th (about feeling sick) until the 16th.
Can you see the frustration in all this?
In this digital age, it is difficult dealing with snail mail.
But mostly, it is difficult being the Mom and being so far away in space and time that I didn't know my son was feeling sick until 4 days after the fact. Was he running a fever? Was it just fatigue and muscle soreness? Was it something he ate? Was it his body adjusting to new germs/environment? Was there a way for him to report feeling sick without getting chewed out by a Drill Sergeant? Is he now feeling better?
I don't know the answers to any of those questions. I haven't gotten another letter from him since.
I do trust the Army to look out for my son. I trust my son to do what needs to be done.
I just hate snail mail. And I love getting letters from him!
Snail mail is weird.
It feels like forever. It feels like he just left yesterday.
Time is weird.
On the day that he left, I kept my phone in my hand the entire afternoon and evening. I knew his plane took off around 1:00ish, so I started being phone crazy around 3. At 4:45, he sent me a text to let me know their plane had landed in Oklahoma. That was bonus communication no. 1.
My friend, Michelle, invited me out to get a treat that evening, but I asked her for a raincheck, because I was so paranoid I'd miss the official one-and-only phone call from my boy.
He called at 10:00 that night. But, it wasn't the official phone call. It was bonus communication no. 2! It was 11 pm for him, and the recruits were all sent to bed without doing the shake-down. So, he was able to call me and actually TALK about how things were going for him. Oh, that made me so happy!!! He couldn't talk for long, because it was 11 pm and they had to get up at 4 am. He did say he spent most of the evening lining up in various places and "getting yelled at a lot". He sounded happy.
The official phone call came at 3:30 our time the following morning. At 4:30 for him, the Drill Sergeants stood over all the recruits and listened to them as they recited a canned speech about arriving safely and surrendering their phones, I love you and goodbye. And, that was it. I could hear many other voices in the background saying the same thing into their phones as Will was saying it to me.
I just said "I love you, I love you, I love you" over and over just before he hung up.
And, that was it.
On July 9th, I got bonus communication no. 3! Helena and I were out and about shopping when I got a phone call from Will! I am so grateful that I had my phone in my hand at that moment, because I would have been so upset if I had missed the call! It was another canned speech about "crossing the tracks" from Processing to Basic. Again, I just said "I love you, I love you, I love you!"
So, now I am phone obsessed. My kids always complained that it was impossible to get me on the phone because I never hear it ring. Not anymore. I guarantee, if you call, I will notice it, now. They were supposed to be granted a holiday phone call home on the 4th of July, but someone in the formation swore and wouldn't fess up to it, so they all lost phone privileges. I never know when a phone call might be granted, so I have to be prepared!
Now, about those letters.
I started writing letters on the very first day he was gone. I had no way to mail them to him, of course, but that didn't stop me. I had at least 12 letters piled up before I actually got an address, so his first packet of mail was slightly fat. :)
Will's first two letters home were short, upbeat, and awesome. The first two letters were from Processing, or just after. The third letter is the one that tore at my heartstrings.
His most recent letter said that he felt sick. Physically, that is. And homesick. Oh, that just tore me to pieces. When he wrote that letter, he hadn't received any letters from home yet, because that is the frustrating fact of snail mail. Your communications with each other often cross paths.
Let me back up. His homesick letter was written on the 12th. The day before he went to church. On Sunday the 13th, I got a phone call from a service missionary member (an Elder Tomani) in the church there who told me that Will had come to church, filled out the information form, and checked the box asking that they call his family to let us know he was doing alright. (This was bonus communication no. 4!) Elder Tomani is the one who was able to give me Will's mailing address. I mailed his big packet of 12+ letters the very next morning, the 14th. (Will's first letter hadn't had a return address on it, because when he wrote it, he was still in Processing and didn't have an address to give me.) I didn't get the letter he wrote on the 12th (about feeling sick) until the 16th.
Can you see the frustration in all this?
In this digital age, it is difficult dealing with snail mail.
But mostly, it is difficult being the Mom and being so far away in space and time that I didn't know my son was feeling sick until 4 days after the fact. Was he running a fever? Was it just fatigue and muscle soreness? Was it something he ate? Was it his body adjusting to new germs/environment? Was there a way for him to report feeling sick without getting chewed out by a Drill Sergeant? Is he now feeling better?
I don't know the answers to any of those questions. I haven't gotten another letter from him since.
I do trust the Army to look out for my son. I trust my son to do what needs to be done.
I just hate snail mail. And I love getting letters from him!
Snail mail is weird.
Overwrought
My heart is overfull of emotions. Overwrought.
It hit last night. The reality that he is really leaving.
We decided to go to the lake one last time. We loaded up the gear and decided to try out Lincoln Beach, down on the south side of the lake. We had never been to that beach, though I had ridden on my bike past it during my half Ironman a couple of years ago. It's a 50 minute drive away, so it's kind of ridiculous that we drove past both Lindon Beach and the Provo boat harbor (both places where we play). But, new things are good, right?
Wrong.
Lincoln Beach turned out to be a great place to kayak, but not much else.
The shoreline was rocky instead of sandy. Rocks with muddy slime. The water was SHALLOW. I mean ankle-calf depth for most of the way out to the end of the jetty, with a bed of mud/slime to walk in. Once past the jetty, the water deepened slightly (maybe waist deep) and the waves were BIG! The evening breeze travels over the lake from North to South, so what may have started as little ripples to the north had built up to big rolling breakers at the south end.
Lincoln Beach is out in the middle of farm country. It seemed to draw a fisherman and "rednecks" crowd. There were camp chairs plunked down in the middle of the bay, with a group of guys lounging while fly fishing. Not a big deal, other than we felt like we were in their way.
Bill and Helena were going to float around on blow up loungers, but one floating dead fish convinced Helena that she DID NOT like this beach and she was done with the water. They got out and explored on land, instead.
Meanwhile, Will was struggling to get up on his board. The protected water was too shallow for the windsurf board. Will couldn't put down his dagger board (the tail fin that allows the board to trim forward instead of being dragged sideways by the wind). Beyond the jetty the waves and wind were too much for his sail. At least, too much without a harness for him to clip himself onto the boom. And he had left the harness at home, not anticipating the conditions.
So, there I was, paddling around in my kayak, watching Will get frustrated and angry on his last night at home. Suddenly, it hit me that he was leaving. And I just couldn't contain the emotions.
Many years ago, when my youngest brother was killed in a car accident, I discovered that a great release for pent up emotion was to beat it out in physical exercise. I recall one particular bike ride when I was able to pedal like mad while the tears streamed down.
Last night I had my kayak. So, I turned my face to the wind and I attacked those waves as the tears flowed. It hurt and it felt good all at the same time. I'm not sure if there is a better way to describe it. I took on a lot of water and thought (for the first time on that lake) that maybe I should have put on a life jacket. They were good waves!
The evening ended on a good note, with everyone laughing and happy at a nearby Wendy's for dinner. Well, mostly happy. Like I said, I'm overwrought.
And now he is gone.
We drove him down to the recruiting station this morning and saw him off with the families of 3 other recruits who are also going to Ft. Sill. I think I did a fairly decent job of not melting down in front of everybody. Sure, there were some tears, but considering how much I was feeling in the moment, I feel like I held it in pretty well.
He left his room a mess, but I'm staying out of it for a few days, until I can get a better handle on my emotional state.
I will be a weepy mess for a day or two. Or maybe a week or two.
Don't mind me. I'll be back to status quo, soon.
It hit last night. The reality that he is really leaving.
We decided to go to the lake one last time. We loaded up the gear and decided to try out Lincoln Beach, down on the south side of the lake. We had never been to that beach, though I had ridden on my bike past it during my half Ironman a couple of years ago. It's a 50 minute drive away, so it's kind of ridiculous that we drove past both Lindon Beach and the Provo boat harbor (both places where we play). But, new things are good, right?
Wrong.
Lincoln Beach turned out to be a great place to kayak, but not much else.
The shoreline was rocky instead of sandy. Rocks with muddy slime. The water was SHALLOW. I mean ankle-calf depth for most of the way out to the end of the jetty, with a bed of mud/slime to walk in. Once past the jetty, the water deepened slightly (maybe waist deep) and the waves were BIG! The evening breeze travels over the lake from North to South, so what may have started as little ripples to the north had built up to big rolling breakers at the south end.
Lincoln Beach is out in the middle of farm country. It seemed to draw a fisherman and "rednecks" crowd. There were camp chairs plunked down in the middle of the bay, with a group of guys lounging while fly fishing. Not a big deal, other than we felt like we were in their way.
Bill and Helena were going to float around on blow up loungers, but one floating dead fish convinced Helena that she DID NOT like this beach and she was done with the water. They got out and explored on land, instead.
Meanwhile, Will was struggling to get up on his board. The protected water was too shallow for the windsurf board. Will couldn't put down his dagger board (the tail fin that allows the board to trim forward instead of being dragged sideways by the wind). Beyond the jetty the waves and wind were too much for his sail. At least, too much without a harness for him to clip himself onto the boom. And he had left the harness at home, not anticipating the conditions.
So, there I was, paddling around in my kayak, watching Will get frustrated and angry on his last night at home. Suddenly, it hit me that he was leaving. And I just couldn't contain the emotions.
Many years ago, when my youngest brother was killed in a car accident, I discovered that a great release for pent up emotion was to beat it out in physical exercise. I recall one particular bike ride when I was able to pedal like mad while the tears streamed down.
Last night I had my kayak. So, I turned my face to the wind and I attacked those waves as the tears flowed. It hurt and it felt good all at the same time. I'm not sure if there is a better way to describe it. I took on a lot of water and thought (for the first time on that lake) that maybe I should have put on a life jacket. They were good waves!
The evening ended on a good note, with everyone laughing and happy at a nearby Wendy's for dinner. Well, mostly happy. Like I said, I'm overwrought.
And now he is gone.
We drove him down to the recruiting station this morning and saw him off with the families of 3 other recruits who are also going to Ft. Sill. I think I did a fairly decent job of not melting down in front of everybody. Sure, there were some tears, but considering how much I was feeling in the moment, I feel like I held it in pretty well.
He left his room a mess, but I'm staying out of it for a few days, until I can get a better handle on my emotional state.
I will be a weepy mess for a day or two. Or maybe a week or two.
Don't mind me. I'll be back to status quo, soon.
Endings and Beginnings
Hallo! We are just about to say 'good-bye' and 'good luck' to our young soldier. I have tried to pack as much fun into the month of June as I could. It will be his only month of summer vacation, so I wanted it to be fun and memorable.
We had family pictures taken. I'll post some as soon as I get them from Miss Saren (Mrs., actually, but she'll always be a young 'Miss' to me, since I'm turning into an old person). We swam. We went to the movies. We ate out more often than we could technically afford. We BBQ-ed. We had bonfires in the back yard. We went to the lake and windsurfed/kayaked/stowed away on some dude's catamaran (only Will did the last part, but, HEY! sounds cool). And, I took him and his 'battle buddy', Private Paul, up to the Solomon Center in Ogden (2 hr. round trip) so they could do indoor skydiving/rock climbing/indoor surfing! That was a fun day! Well, all except realizing when we got home that he had lost his dog tags. GAH!!! I went into panic mode. They have his name and SS number on them! I know he will be issued new tags when he arrives at Basic. Most new recruits get their first tags at Basic. Will has had dog tags for almost a year, however, because he enlisted last July and has been serving in his Reserve unit ever since. He has already received a promotion, in fact, and will be doing Basic as a Private 2nd Class.
Anyways, I hurried and called every venue up in Ogden and asked for them to look for the tags. And, wouldn't you know it, THEY FOUND THEM! HOORAY! The Flowrider staff found them over by the Costa Vida (where we ate dinner). They are going to mail them back to us, so we don't have to drive for 2 hours to retrieve them. One of life's little blessings!
So, I'm down to counting hours before my son leaves for this big adventure. I'm excited for him, but I'm sad for me. I will miss him something fierce! When Helena moved out, I stood in her room several times and just teared up over missing her... even though she was only two towns over and often brought her laundry home &/or came "shopping" in my pantry. This will be much harder. I have no doubt I will spend some maudlin moments in his room, too. I'm extra thankful that Helena moved back home. That will make this easier for me.
No Skype. No phone calls. No texts.
Only snail mail.
They will give him his mail once a week, and make him earn it with push ups. No packages allowed. Just words of encouragement and photos. He WILL get to call me once on the day after he arrives at the base, to let me know he arrived safely. After that, he MIGHT be allowed to call every few weeks... if he earns it &/or the Drill Sargent is in the mood.
Meanwhile, I have to move on with my plans for the summer.
Normally, I have a routine planned out from day one of summer break. Not this year. I let June roll over me in one big jumble of activity. So, starting July 1st, I am getting back into a schedule. Not a rigid-my-days-are-packed kind of schedule. Just a routine.
Get up at 6
Work out from 7-9 (this could be walking/jogging/bike riding/weights/whatever)
Yard work (and house repairs) until lunch at 11:30
housework for an hour after lunch
personal improvement (sketching/painting/Rosetta Stone) for two hours in the afternoon.
Unplug at 8
Swim from 8:30 to 9:30
Bed at 10
There are some rigid time frames in there. Notably the getting up/exercising/going to bed times. I find I do better at exercise if I am more rigid with it. The rest can shift as needed, and it leaves me plenty of 'down' time to be a lazy summer slug and lounge around poolside or on the porch. I need that just as much as the exercise! And, of course, there will be some interruptions to that plan. The Steel Days Art Show will consume a week in mid-July, and I will be teaching children's community art classes for a week in late July.
Saturdays and Sundays won't have all that going on. Those days will be pretty unstructured.
Actually, I plan to use my Saturdays to work on Will's room. It is due for an overhaul. I won't say more, now. Just know I have some exciting plans that I hope to surprise him with when he comes home!
So, I say farewell to my boy, and hope to welcome him back 6 months from now as a soldier and a man.
We had family pictures taken. I'll post some as soon as I get them from Miss Saren (Mrs., actually, but she'll always be a young 'Miss' to me, since I'm turning into an old person). We swam. We went to the movies. We ate out more often than we could technically afford. We BBQ-ed. We had bonfires in the back yard. We went to the lake and windsurfed/kayaked/stowed away on some dude's catamaran (only Will did the last part, but, HEY! sounds cool). And, I took him and his 'battle buddy', Private Paul, up to the Solomon Center in Ogden (2 hr. round trip) so they could do indoor skydiving/rock climbing/indoor surfing! That was a fun day! Well, all except realizing when we got home that he had lost his dog tags. GAH!!! I went into panic mode. They have his name and SS number on them! I know he will be issued new tags when he arrives at Basic. Most new recruits get their first tags at Basic. Will has had dog tags for almost a year, however, because he enlisted last July and has been serving in his Reserve unit ever since. He has already received a promotion, in fact, and will be doing Basic as a Private 2nd Class.
Anyways, I hurried and called every venue up in Ogden and asked for them to look for the tags. And, wouldn't you know it, THEY FOUND THEM! HOORAY! The Flowrider staff found them over by the Costa Vida (where we ate dinner). They are going to mail them back to us, so we don't have to drive for 2 hours to retrieve them. One of life's little blessings!
So, I'm down to counting hours before my son leaves for this big adventure. I'm excited for him, but I'm sad for me. I will miss him something fierce! When Helena moved out, I stood in her room several times and just teared up over missing her... even though she was only two towns over and often brought her laundry home &/or came "shopping" in my pantry. This will be much harder. I have no doubt I will spend some maudlin moments in his room, too. I'm extra thankful that Helena moved back home. That will make this easier for me.
No Skype. No phone calls. No texts.
Only snail mail.
They will give him his mail once a week, and make him earn it with push ups. No packages allowed. Just words of encouragement and photos. He WILL get to call me once on the day after he arrives at the base, to let me know he arrived safely. After that, he MIGHT be allowed to call every few weeks... if he earns it &/or the Drill Sargent is in the mood.
Meanwhile, I have to move on with my plans for the summer.
Normally, I have a routine planned out from day one of summer break. Not this year. I let June roll over me in one big jumble of activity. So, starting July 1st, I am getting back into a schedule. Not a rigid-my-days-are-packed kind of schedule. Just a routine.
Get up at 6
Work out from 7-9 (this could be walking/jogging/bike riding/weights/whatever)
Yard work (and house repairs) until lunch at 11:30
housework for an hour after lunch
personal improvement (sketching/painting/Rosetta Stone) for two hours in the afternoon.
Unplug at 8
Swim from 8:30 to 9:30
Bed at 10
There are some rigid time frames in there. Notably the getting up/exercising/going to bed times. I find I do better at exercise if I am more rigid with it. The rest can shift as needed, and it leaves me plenty of 'down' time to be a lazy summer slug and lounge around poolside or on the porch. I need that just as much as the exercise! And, of course, there will be some interruptions to that plan. The Steel Days Art Show will consume a week in mid-July, and I will be teaching children's community art classes for a week in late July.
Saturdays and Sundays won't have all that going on. Those days will be pretty unstructured.
Actually, I plan to use my Saturdays to work on Will's room. It is due for an overhaul. I won't say more, now. Just know I have some exciting plans that I hope to surprise him with when he comes home!
So, I say farewell to my boy, and hope to welcome him back 6 months from now as a soldier and a man.
Social Media Depression
I get very frustrated sometimes looking at Facebook.
"Social Media Depression" I think is what they're calling it.
As I scroll down my feed, I am bombarded with post after post about everybody else's WONDERFUL child. This young man has received X, Y, and Z awards. This young lady has pulled a 4.0 and received a scholarship to the university of her choice. These young men and women are all going off to serve missions for their church after graduating from seminary.
Moms (and even some Dads) love to brag up their children on Facebook. I admit, I like to, too.
And I'm happy for all of them and their achievements.
But mostly I'm frustrated and jealous.
Not all of us have 4.0 students.
Not all of us have children who have won awards.
Not all of us have children who are interested in religious studies or service.
In fact, some of us are simply celebrating the fact that our children have barely met the mark for graduation, despite all they have done to undermine themselves along the way. Some of us have smart kids who submarined themselves and underachieved rather spectacularly.
And, yes, I am very proud of my child!
I am proud that he met the mark and is completing this milestone in life. I am proud of his determination to serve his country and join the Army. I believe in his intelligence and his ability to attend college when he is ready.
But I get dragged down by green meanies when I see all the brag-fests on Facebook.
And then I saw it.
A post on the memorial page of my son's school friend who took his own life last year. A post from his parents wishing all the graduates well. A post filled with the pain of loss made fresh with every milestone their son should have been experiencing.
And I am so moved to tears that I have no words to express my feelings.
"Social Media Depression" I think is what they're calling it.
As I scroll down my feed, I am bombarded with post after post about everybody else's WONDERFUL child. This young man has received X, Y, and Z awards. This young lady has pulled a 4.0 and received a scholarship to the university of her choice. These young men and women are all going off to serve missions for their church after graduating from seminary.
Moms (and even some Dads) love to brag up their children on Facebook. I admit, I like to, too.
And I'm happy for all of them and their achievements.
But mostly I'm frustrated and jealous.
Not all of us have 4.0 students.
Not all of us have children who have won awards.
Not all of us have children who are interested in religious studies or service.
In fact, some of us are simply celebrating the fact that our children have barely met the mark for graduation, despite all they have done to undermine themselves along the way. Some of us have smart kids who submarined themselves and underachieved rather spectacularly.
And, yes, I am very proud of my child!
I am proud that he met the mark and is completing this milestone in life. I am proud of his determination to serve his country and join the Army. I believe in his intelligence and his ability to attend college when he is ready.
But I get dragged down by green meanies when I see all the brag-fests on Facebook.
And then I saw it.
A post on the memorial page of my son's school friend who took his own life last year. A post from his parents wishing all the graduates well. A post filled with the pain of loss made fresh with every milestone their son should have been experiencing.
And I am so moved to tears that I have no words to express my feelings.
Acknowledging the Simple Blessings of Life
On Memorial Day, I went for a walk. It was a gorgeous day. The sky was blue, the air was warm, the flowers were blooming.
It was a good day to be alive!
I've been struggling for the past three months. I have been sick. No, I don't really know what it is. I went to the doctor several times, was put on three different antibiotics, and a course of steroids (to bring the coughing under control enough so I would stop throwing up. Yeah, fun times). Still no improvement. I've had every bit of advice thrown my way, from "oh, it's probably just allergies." (Um, NO. It's not.), to "You should really be using X, Y, and Z essential oils. You'd be cured in a matter of days." (Not a fan. I had a student a couple of years ago whose mother was convinced could study and learn better if DOUSED in essential oils daily. Yeah, the rest of us had massive headaches from the overpowering aroma until the principal put his foot down and told the mother it was too much. And, no, the oils DID NOT make her smarter.) I wish I could tell people just how very unhelpful their armchair doctoring is to me. I don't mind sympathy, I don't need amateur doctors.
The real doc thinks it is bronchitis, but I've never heard of bronchitis sticking around for this long. He insists it's not pneumonia, so there's that. For what it's worth.
Meanwhile, back at the farm, life goes on much as you'd expect with mostly grown kids. Late night worrying and late-teen temptations and frustrations being what they are, I never quite get enough sleep. Also, the stress of being the mom has gifted me with an impressive collection of acne smattered across my chin. So sexy in a 40 something year old.
So, you can see what a gift that beautiful day was to me. As I was walking the neighborhood, I reflected that I really do live in a great location! I live in what most people would call a fair to big sized city, but I live in the old district. That means that the library, grocery store, church, cemetery, several parks, an elementary, junior high, and high school are all within walking distance. And, of course, the city rec. center is only a half block away, too! Work out classes and equipment, an indoor track, and two pools (olympic lap pool and leisure pool w/water slide/lazy river) plus hot tub!
It is good to be reminded sometimes of the awesomeness of life that we sometimes take for granted because most of the time it just fades to the background as we go about living.
And stressing.
Sigh. (Really, I'm okay. This, too, will pass)
It was a good day to be alive!
I've been struggling for the past three months. I have been sick. No, I don't really know what it is. I went to the doctor several times, was put on three different antibiotics, and a course of steroids (to bring the coughing under control enough so I would stop throwing up. Yeah, fun times). Still no improvement. I've had every bit of advice thrown my way, from "oh, it's probably just allergies." (Um, NO. It's not.), to "You should really be using X, Y, and Z essential oils. You'd be cured in a matter of days." (Not a fan. I had a student a couple of years ago whose mother was convinced could study and learn better if DOUSED in essential oils daily. Yeah, the rest of us had massive headaches from the overpowering aroma until the principal put his foot down and told the mother it was too much. And, no, the oils DID NOT make her smarter.) I wish I could tell people just how very unhelpful their armchair doctoring is to me. I don't mind sympathy, I don't need amateur doctors.
The real doc thinks it is bronchitis, but I've never heard of bronchitis sticking around for this long. He insists it's not pneumonia, so there's that. For what it's worth.
Meanwhile, back at the farm, life goes on much as you'd expect with mostly grown kids. Late night worrying and late-teen temptations and frustrations being what they are, I never quite get enough sleep. Also, the stress of being the mom has gifted me with an impressive collection of acne smattered across my chin. So sexy in a 40 something year old.
So, you can see what a gift that beautiful day was to me. As I was walking the neighborhood, I reflected that I really do live in a great location! I live in what most people would call a fair to big sized city, but I live in the old district. That means that the library, grocery store, church, cemetery, several parks, an elementary, junior high, and high school are all within walking distance. And, of course, the city rec. center is only a half block away, too! Work out classes and equipment, an indoor track, and two pools (olympic lap pool and leisure pool w/water slide/lazy river) plus hot tub!
It is good to be reminded sometimes of the awesomeness of life that we sometimes take for granted because most of the time it just fades to the background as we go about living.
And stressing.
Sigh. (Really, I'm okay. This, too, will pass)
Prom 2014
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Will told me over and over again for MONTHS that he wasn't interested in Prom. I stopped bringing it up because he would just roll his eyes and walk away.
So, imagine my surprise when I received this text conversation from him last Wednesday;
Will: Hey I'm going to Prom :P
Me: WHAT?! Cool! With whom? Also, home soon?
Will: I'm getting fitted for a suit.
Me: Holy crapinoly! Awesome, love you!
Keep in mind, Prom was in THREE DAYS.
It turns out that he and Brenna were talking (for those of you not in the know, Brenna was Will's girlfriend last summer, but they broke up last fall), and they both discovered that neither of them was going to prom. So, they decided to go together. They doubled with Brenna's friend and her date.
Will was bemused at how much we reacted to the news. But, really. After months and months of saying "No", this sudden whirlwind of three days of Prom prep was pretty amazing! He took care of all of the arrangements himself, and paid for all of it himself. He rented the tux, picked it up, and presumably returned it today. He got her corsage and the prom tickets.
I have to say, he looked AMAZING in his tux! The short jacket with long tails look great on his trim figure. It was also a perfect match to Brenna's dress. They looked very happy and seemed to have a great time. It would now appear that Will and Brenna are back together.
I'm very happy, too. I wanted him to go to prom so much! It is an event that only happens at this point in life, and it would be a shame to miss out on the experience. Maybe I am projecting my own youth, since I was never asked to prom, or any other school dance, for that matter. I always wanted to go, but never got the chance. It was hard for me to have my son say he didn't want to go. However, I reconciled the fact that it was his choice. It's not like he wanted to and never had the opportunity.
Still, I'm very happy they had a good time! Now, just 5 more weeks until graduation, and only 9 weeks until he ships out for Basic Training! Ahhhh!
Not so Utopian
Why have I been missing in action for so long, you ask?
I shut down when life turns difficult. The more difficult, the more I retreat. From this record, anyways.
Things have been hard around here. Really hard. Struggles and difficulties that I can't talk about because they are not my tales to tell. It is not my job to tell all the stories of the world. Or even all the stories in the family. I can only tell mine, and the stories of others when they are positive and upbeat. But when the stories are not upbeat, when the road is rocky, I'm not going to share. Not even when the stories ARE mine, actually. Since I can't just go on writing breezy, lighthearted posts when my heartstrings are being plucked, I will remain silent.
It used to be that I wrote in hardbound journals, and I would write EVERYTHING. For years I did that. The good and the bad. And then I discovered something. When I was feeling happy and looked back through the journals, I saw the good and it confirmed my good mood. But I also saw the bad, and it brought me down. Total buzz kill. When I was feeling down, I'd look back through the journals and ONLY see the bad... confirming my black mood.
So writing about bad times, for me, is a double negative. Which in this case (unlike in math) does NOT equate to a positive.
So, no. It's not just the online nature of this journal. It is a life lesson. Don't immortalize the negative moments of life. Don't afford them that honor. I'm not saying ignore them in the moment. Bad times happen to everyone, and they need to be dealt with in a healthy way. For me, writing them down is not a healthy way to deal with them.
I know many would disagree with me. They might say that getting the thoughts out of my head and verbalizing them would be cathartic. That without sharing, there can be no healing help from others. Or even that I create an unrealistically utopian view of my life by editing out the negative. Please understand. I am not being completely silent. I am getting the help needed in the moment. In real time, real face-to-face interactions with people around me. I'm not depressed or in danger of becoming so. I am simply not willing to look back to this point in my life and have anger, frustration, or worry be the permanent record.
Anyways, that is why the hiatus. Time will smooth the road out, and I will return to my breezy posts and light filled reports of all things wonderful. My "utopian" record. ;)
I shut down when life turns difficult. The more difficult, the more I retreat. From this record, anyways.
Things have been hard around here. Really hard. Struggles and difficulties that I can't talk about because they are not my tales to tell. It is not my job to tell all the stories of the world. Or even all the stories in the family. I can only tell mine, and the stories of others when they are positive and upbeat. But when the stories are not upbeat, when the road is rocky, I'm not going to share. Not even when the stories ARE mine, actually. Since I can't just go on writing breezy, lighthearted posts when my heartstrings are being plucked, I will remain silent.
It used to be that I wrote in hardbound journals, and I would write EVERYTHING. For years I did that. The good and the bad. And then I discovered something. When I was feeling happy and looked back through the journals, I saw the good and it confirmed my good mood. But I also saw the bad, and it brought me down. Total buzz kill. When I was feeling down, I'd look back through the journals and ONLY see the bad... confirming my black mood.
So writing about bad times, for me, is a double negative. Which in this case (unlike in math) does NOT equate to a positive.
So, no. It's not just the online nature of this journal. It is a life lesson. Don't immortalize the negative moments of life. Don't afford them that honor. I'm not saying ignore them in the moment. Bad times happen to everyone, and they need to be dealt with in a healthy way. For me, writing them down is not a healthy way to deal with them.
I know many would disagree with me. They might say that getting the thoughts out of my head and verbalizing them would be cathartic. That without sharing, there can be no healing help from others. Or even that I create an unrealistically utopian view of my life by editing out the negative. Please understand. I am not being completely silent. I am getting the help needed in the moment. In real time, real face-to-face interactions with people around me. I'm not depressed or in danger of becoming so. I am simply not willing to look back to this point in my life and have anger, frustration, or worry be the permanent record.
Anyways, that is why the hiatus. Time will smooth the road out, and I will return to my breezy posts and light filled reports of all things wonderful. My "utopian" record. ;)
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