Merry Christmas

I don't want to write this blog, but I'm going to. Not so I can emotionally vomit all over you, but because as I have learned particularly over the past year, pain and hardships numb and scar, and leave you thinking later they weren't as bad as they actually were. And Im not sure I want to be calloused. I need to remember how hard this is.
Christmas Eve... the kiddos open their presents for 'mama's Christmas' since Santa will be visiting them in Kansas, and we decided to have our own gift exchange prior. Lots of squealing, laughter, delight... all the bits of the merry holiday spirit to be expected, except this strange cloud hanging over the adult heads, because of whats starting, because of whats ending.
We headed to our favorite dining spot, Benihanas, where the Hibachi chefs whip up some fantastic Asian cuisine... and Jayvn can stuff himself full of steak and shrimp while Mys practices using her chopsticks with her dainty little pinky finger sticking out. A and I had a weird revelational moment that this was kind of a 'last supper' event for us. We chuckled at it, and the cloud grew slightly more dense. We went back to the house to pack some more, then over to Sgt K's for dinner, so the kids could all say goodbye. Heart wrenching... watching little ones realize they wont get to see each other again, watching them hug and wave... I managed to hold it together the whole day until that point. We went back home to finish packing, and it was a pretty slippery slope from there. I had to duck off into the bathroom a few times throughout the rest of the night to let out a sob and gain composure. I swore I wouldn't cry until after they left. How are they supposed to feel if I am a mess. Nope, no crying.
The ride to the airport was torture. I bit my cheeks til they bled. Jayvn said 'Mama... I just feel like Im never going to see you again.' I understand that children perceive situations in that way, but thoughts of premonition still flutter through my mind. A and I had a few moments of reminiscing, and thank yous between laughing and trying not to cry. I got them all checked in, and went to security, which is as far as you can go nowadays. Probably better that way, I dont think I could have handled watching them board the plane.
So at 1am on Christmas day, I squat down to kiss my children for the last time for 14 months. When I left for basic training last year, I left in the middle of the night, kissed their sleeping faces and snuck out the door... they knew I was going, but didnt understand what that meant... so it was just me that had to deal. This time, they get it. They both had big alligator tears streaming down their faces, and Jayvn was asking one more time 'How long is a year?' The last thing he said was 'I miss you already...' and Mys just put her teary head down and fell into my arms. Then it was time for them to go, their daddy took their hands and pulled them away. They looked over their shoulders, Mysteri screaming 'I love you mama' over and over, and Jayvn just looking at me like I was already dying. A was trying to be strong, even though he's terrified of the plane, anxious of starting his life over without me, and aching for his children.
I had all intentions of reaching the car before throwing a fit, but only made it about 5 steps and I couldnt hold it anymore. All the merry happy people in the airport loving life and celebrating Christmas blatantly stared at me sobbing and snotting all over myself as I tried to find my way out. I wanted to scream at them. And, like a horror film, the fucking Christmas music blared in my ears the whole way.
So here I sit. Alone. Something I haven't been in 10 years. But its not sad, its deserved. I chose this. I signed the dotted the line. And when Im doing my job, I know its worth it. But when Im kissing them goodbye, I know its not. So which is it? I dont know. I guess it depends on their personalities and if this will prove to be detrimental to them, and it depends on the outcome of the war. I dont feel like I know anything right now, except that Im leaving for a year, after I just spent 8 months of this year gone in training. That this year will be immensely different. Sgt K says its just this hard because its my first deployment. Somehow, I dont think leaving your children should ever get easier. I dont think having to wonder how tall they will be, what they will sound like, what they will have learned, who their friends will be, if this is going to ruin their lives... or even if I'll get to find out... is something to grow accustomed to. So yes, its hard. My heart is broken. And while I believe in this Army and will do what has to be done, it needs to remain this hard... I hope goodbye hurts this much every time.
I can do this, I will. For anyone that has, or is, or will... or has been on the other side... thanks for showing me that it is even possible. But I cant speak for my children. If you know them, Im begging you to help them through... just love them while Im gone.

3 reasons why you should never drive in a blizzard

1. You could possibly get stuck alone in a driveway, in the dark, in the middle of a snow storm, without a snow shovel. You could try to drive/reverse your way out, only to get more stuck, and waste a quarter tank of expensive Alaska gas. You could try "borrowing" some salt from the neighbors' salt tin, only to make a slushy mess of the top layer of ice/snow. You could try being a silly girl and attempt to push the car, while its in neutral, not thinking about the fact that the car will slide backward as much as it does forward, and despite the amazing rocking motion you get... the car will win, knocking you on your ass and remaining just as stuck as it was before. You could then resort to digging your dumb car out... with an ice scraper... the kind you use to clean your windshield. This could take upwards of an hour and a half. During this escapade a little old man across the street could be shoveling his driveway with a full-sized snow shovel, and he could possibly start laughing at you, as you are struggling. You could decide to refrain from profanities and just smile and wave, to which he chuckles and waves, and goes back to shoveling his driveway. This could quite frankly be the last straw, and just when you think you've had enough, you climb back in the car, scream at it, and the loving car says 'fine' and backs out like there never was a problem.
2. You could own a tomtom (gps) who likes to send you on random back-road routes, which normally isn't a problem, but with a few feet of snow and a little car, could potentially be disastrous. Your car could be struggling on level streets, much less... when you round a corner and there looms a rather large hill. In complete naivete you could think 'Hey, if I go really fast, I can make it.' You could almost hear your car chugging 'I think I can, I think I can...' up said hill, just far enough that you relax and falsely are convinced you might indeed make it. Just then your car could change his thoughts and say 'You know, this sucks, fuck off...' and proceed to slide. Backwards, and then sideways. You might be screaming bloody murder the whole way down, as the snow is catching the tires and threatening to roll the car. Your car might finally spin at the bottom, all the way around, to the perfect stopping point where you are now facing directly back at the hill. The hill could mock you.
3. You could make it all the way home, more than an hour later because you had to drive 20 miles an hour, as traffic lanes no longer exist.. if you can even see the road at all.. just to step out of the car and go slip-sliding and land flat on your back. You could then decide to either cry or... make a snow angel.

The General's house

Ive been wondering how its possible to feel so busy, and not even have anything to show for it. All week Ive been running around like a mad-woman, yet I only have one thing really to even write about. Then I whine because I don't have time to sit and blog, so... low and behold, I have the stomach flu. Poof, now I have time. I cant hardly hold my head up, but hey, lets be positive right?.
Yesterday I went to do a photo assignment at the USARAK General's house. As in, his personal residence. Privates don't go in General's houses. Talk about scary. For some reason they said 'holiday party' and all I heard was 'the General' and focused so much on that, I failed to process what types of people may be attending such a holiday party. Hahahaaaa. Naive me. 5 hours crammed into a space with Generals, Colonels, Politicians, and Sgt. Maj.s everywhere... not to mention every other form of brass... I haven't ever been one much for anxiety, but my heart is still missing beats from all that. I'm trying to maneuver and squeeze through these people who have more military knowledge experience than I have regular life experience, and then stuff my camera in their faces. Yay. Some of them that know me, being mostly infantry guys, relate best through 'humor' usually at my expense... so as I'm tiptoeing around trying not to scuff some full-bird's dress shoes, I'm getting these random jokes. Haha, everyone laughs (at me), that was funny, thankyouverymuch sir. The food was amazing though, and the punch... ;) At the end of the night, after two sessions of this torture, the General makes his final speech from his staircase. Reminded me slightly of that scene from The Sound of Music where Cpt Von Trap makes a speech at his Christmas party. Except I'm living in this one, hiding behind a flag about two feet from the General trying to inconspicuously take pictures... He delivers his speech and ends with... introductions of the behind-the-scenes guys (chefs, security, etc) Well, he made the same introductions after the first session, which I had not been included in, so naturally I was kind of tuning him out and focusing on my photos. He makes his way through everyone, and then I catch something about a Private. I'm the only one in the house, so I look up and he's motioning for me... as everyone laughs at my surprised little jump. So I timidly step out from behind the flag and give a little wave and then try to go back to my hiding spot, however he keeps talking. Something to the effect of "brand new private" flitting around with the camera and isn't that great etc. Then there is this very strange, very awkward 5 second pause where he stops talking and is just smiling down at me. Everyone is quiet, smiling... and I'm standing there, all red in the face and wondering what the hell just happened. I'm not saying shit. Nope, nope. So I just smile back, wishing I could melt into the floor. The problem with all of this is, people tend to remember me, because I'm one of the few girls in an infantry brigade, and I constantly have a camera. So Ive naturally been dubbed 'camera-girl' which means that everyone knows who I am, so embarrassing situations like this tend to stick out... I used to think standing in front of 200 privates at AIT when I was the student 1st sgt was bad... haha, lets fill a room with everyone of significance in Alaska, and try that out. Sheesh.
I'm off to wrap Christmas presents... and probably go throw up again.

Learning to love the ironies and absurdities

I spent the evening playing Santa's little helper / photographer at an Army Christmas party. I have come to the conclusion that there is something very demented about Santa and this whole tradition. As I stood through hours of trying to get miserable children to smile, while they are screaming bloody murder because they are petrified of this strange grey-haired old white man dressed in a plush red suit that is trying to persuade them to perch on his lap, the absurdity of it all dawned on me. We teach our kids "stranger danger" with the exception of this Santa tradition, in which case we want them to actually sit on this man, and be thrilled about it. You can see in their horrified little faces... they know he's a creeper... I kept having these moments where I would look around and wonder, um, is this my effing job?Did I really join the Army to be an elf? Lol!! I actually got a kick out of it, even enjoyed it, including the weirdness, and I think everyone else did too. I especially enjoyed all the hard-core super-duper Paratroopers, dressed in the gayest hand-knit Christmas sweaters and santa hats, oogling over all the rosy-cheeked, snotty kids... and being run ragged by them. We can save the world, but toss us in with a few 3-year olds and suddenly we are sweating, gasping for air,... and in desperate search of a beer. While all the mommies look incredulously like "why is this so hard for you?!" Absurd. Even more absurd is that I completely identify with both the mommy and the Paratrooper, yet still cant figure out how to mesh them together, so watching the roles collide in such mass quantity at an event was completely... well, there's not a word for it, besides absurd.
The Elmendorf housing informed us that they are all booked up over the holidays and so can not grant us an extension in our quarters... so 2 weeks before Christmas, we are moving back to Fort Richardson. I have lived in 2 rooms at Fort Jackson SC, 4 rooms at Fort Meade MD, one at Fort Benning GA, my apartment in Houston, Fort Richardson, Elmendorf and now back to Fort Richardson. That is a total of 11 moves in 2008. I love to travel, and I love moving... but this is an important lesson in the "be careful what you wish for" philosophy. The Army has issued me enough gear and shit in general to build my own private fort, and moving it gets harder and harder every time. And, I have to move the day after Christmas too. That makes for 12 moves before the completion of year 1 in the Army. I should be packing right now... and looky-here, I'm blogging... go figure.
A and I attended our "Sharing Children" class at the courthouse today, which was the last step we had to take before submitting our paperwork. We were laughing through the whole thing, because everyone there looked so damn grumpy, and the couples that were there at the same time were sitting as far away from each other as possible. I guess its not funny, but for whatever reason we were giggling at the sternness of it all. The made-in-the-80s cheesy movie didn't help either.
Speaking of movies... Spc Steve is a bit of a movie buff, he was a film major in college and he's a broadcaster. So he brings me these "classic" movies that I "must" watch. We Were Soldiers was the first. Which was indeed a very good movie... but not if you're deploying to a combat zone in two months. I was sobbing 20 minutes into it (as all the Soldiers are kissing their families goodbye) and cried the whole way through the whole stupid movie. OF COURSE, there is a journalist in it... yay, me. At the end of the movie he says "I don't know how to write this story," which is something I always struggle with. How do you portray Heroes to be the amazing people they are, how do you put into words an experience that is far beyond explanation??? And the officer replies to the journalist "You have to." Ahhhh... lots of tears. Lots of realization. Lots of fear. The second was Cold Mountain, a horrible love story set in the civil war, after which I am very hesitant to watch any more of Spc Steve's movies because the end result is an abundance of tears and snot and puffy eyes in the morning.
This week was "jump week" which really is a fancy way of saying that the Army is shoving 1300 Paratroopers out the door of a c-17 in one week. I luckily had convenient appointments (ok, one of which was a well-woman exam, Army style, use your imagination... so maybe not sooo convenient) so I didn't have to jump. Normally I am very hooah about the whole jumping thing, but toss a few feet of snow, single digit temps, and a ruck sack into the deal, and nooo thank you!!! I did however have to escort the Anchorage Daily News and Channel 13 media out to the drop zone, in a blizzard. The snow was coming down sideways and the wind was as fast as it can be for them to still drop Paratroopers out the door. We couldn't see the first of the c-17s flying over, just heard them and then suddenly all these little parachutes appeared... These poor guys came down sideways, right along with the snow, and FAST. They were all cursing coming down, it was quite entertaining from the ground! I watched them eat shit on the DZ, and proceed to get dragged. Some of these guys weigh twice what I do, so if they were plowing snow with their bodies... well, lets just say I have never been so thankful that my feet were firmly on the ground... even if I was frozen solid tromping around in snow up to my knees for two hours. Honestly, I have never, ever been that cold. My poor toes didn't thaw out for at least an hour. Unfortunately, this means I have to jump in January, when it supposedly gets colder (although I cant even fathom how that is possible.)
I slid off the road twice this week. Well, once I stayed on the road, but my car was moving in a sideways direction down the middle of it. I guess the positive point of that is getting a nice small dose of unexpected adrenaline here and there. Sigh. Whatever. Poor Kia hates Alaska. I also got stuck and was screaming explicatives at the car and the snow and the state before I realized that there were definitely people standing a few yards away, laughing hysterically. I flipped them off when I got unstuck, but they were too busy laughing to notice. I find myself constantly thinking of the irony, how I made fun of Spc Steve for getting assigned to Alaska before I knew I would be here too, how I called A and played the April fools joke of a lifetime "we got stationed in Alaska"... and got "Fort Richardson, AK" as my station three whole days later... even back to my childhood, when I always wanted to live in a southern warm city and my sister dreamt of Alaska, and now she lives in Houston (where my heart is) and I live in the frozen fucking tundra where the streets cant be salted because the moose will roam onto the road to eat the salt, and every other business name starts with "Arctic." Oh, the irony...

Aces and Chuck E

On Friday I went on a photo assignment to the Aces hockey game for 'military appreciation night.' I was feeling all special and loving my job because they gave me a media pass and VIP parking... As is often the case, I got a quick humility-check when they inform me that I will be out at center-ice for these photos. I have platform snow-boots (aka heels) on, and the little ice polishers have freshly slicktified the ice seconds before I have to walk out there for the puck drop. In front of 5000 people, I go inching out, trying to look like a professional and maintain composure. Luckily, I didnt fall. (and shame on you for wanting to hear that I busted my ass in front of everyone!) I did slide around a bit, and had to go back out there for not one, but two intermission ceremonies... the second and third of which I was having progressively more issues as people like to buy me beer... not that Im complaining, but walking on ice in heels with a buzz in front of 5000 eyes waiting for you to fall is not exactly my definition of fun. However by the last intermission, I no longer cared.
About half the crowd were Soldiers, in uniform... and at the beginning of the game the announcer asked all the military people to 'make noise.' At this point I was standing in the box (where the hockey players sit) and was blown away by the roar, it was quite moving. Then he asked everyone who supports and appreciates the military to make noise.... it was deafening. That has become, hands down, one of my favorite moments of all time. The lights were low, the spotlights were going crazy, and for a split-second, our country's pride was the only thing to be heard.
Jayvn went to the game with Sgt K and family. They had a signed Aces jersey for him to wear, and gave him a cow bell (that tradition must be a joke right?!) He had the 'best night of my wholest life' as he put it. I finished work for the last quarter (are they quarters in hockey? I dont know... you get the point) and went to sit with them. Sgt G, true to form, decides to tell the beer guy as Im buying a beer, that Im underage, which winds up being a kind of loud production with all them laughing and the people around us staring. Sigh.
I had to take Calypso (my guitar) back to the store to get fixed. One of her strings vibrates. They are keeping her for a week, and even though I only had her a week, I grew accustomed to playing every night and I am missing it like crazy.
Yesterday, I was feeling ambitious, so I took Jayvn to Chuck E. Cheese. Chuck is demented, and the whole establishment was created, in my opinion, by sadists... however, J thoroughly enjoyed himself. And I suppose I did too, at least the ski-ball (which I played for an hour) and the whack-a-gator were entertaining. The millions of little kids running around seem to lose all concept of manners the second they walk through the door, and the ratio of children/adults was severely misproportioned. We met up with Sgt K and his clan again, and J is still talking about his "pretend brothers."
Mys didnt get to go, because her little ass is NAUGHTY. I've known from the get-go that her sole purpose in life is to pay me back for the horrible things I put my parents through... but honestly, do we need to start this young?! The child is potty trained, but still has accidents, and unfortunately insists on using the bathroom alone, with the door closed. Yesterday after an incident involving a shitty pull-up that managed to get smeared all over the toilet, sink, shower curtain and a towel (which she was trying to 'clean' with) I was already wanting to pull my hair out. Im trying to fix the scene, and I hear running water downstairs. So I reluctantly head down... In less than ten minutes, she had pulled a 'snack' out of the fridge that was an hors devours plate with millions of toothpicks that are now strewn about the floor, squeezed yogurt on the floor/toothpicks, filled the sink to overflowing... water was running down the cabinets and soaking every square inch of the counter, including the new bag of FLOUR that I had left sitting there, and that was now doubling as fun goo for little fingers to paste the kitchen top to bottom with. She has the chair pulled up to the counter and is standing on it, covered in flour-paste and yogurt, and says "mama, water is speeeelling..." and, in response to the horrific look on my face "ummmm, I looove you," with a little sassy, look-how-cute-I-am grin. I was too embarrassed of how the kitchen looked to risk turning it into a crime scene, so I sent her upstairs intending to spank her after I fixed the flood. Shortly thereafter, as Im still scraping flour out of crevaces, I hear bouncing, another thud, and wailing. She was upstairs trying to launch herself from the bed to the top of the tv stand to secure the oreos that were sitting up there. And that was where Chuck E. Cheese became not-an-option for the little Mys.

Quick Update

Yesterday, the dj on the radio said something to the effect of "Tomorrow we have a heat wave coming through, woohoo. You can expect a high of 20..." If I ever find that dj, Im going to choke him. My world is covered in at least 3 feet of snow, the high a few days ago was -2, and this guy is laughing. Its not funny.
Otherwise, Ive been enjoying being home. Its always a little strange transitioning from Army-life to home-life, but I think Im getting a little better at it. The kids are bouncing off the walls, as usual. I cooked a ham and a turkey with all the sides and hors devours for Thanksgiving, and I guess I got used to cooking for a bunch of people every year, and failed to realize that there was just 4 of us... waaaaayyy too much food!! At this point, Iwould pay someone to finish the leftovers... Im so sick of thanksgiving food! We built a snow fort/cave in our front yard.
I finally had to suck it up and buy their plane tickets back to KS, which Im trying not to think about. They all leave Christmas day.

I bought a guitar a few days ago. She is my new love, the camera is jealous... ;) My fingers are bruised, and Ive been staying up way too late playing, but I love it! Honestly, I dont know how I made it all the way to this point without learning...

I covered my first memorial service today. It was heart-wrenching. I held it together and did my job, and even kept it up at the office while people were around... but as soon as everyone cleared the room and Sgt shut the door, I had a minor meltdown for about a minute. The service was really disturbing in itself, but it was more the thought that I will be covering these for the next year repeatedly, and very likely for some of my friends. Sgt did 53 of them in Iraq. I dont know if I can do it, which scares me. And today was the first time I hated my job. Sticking a camera in the faces of mourning people, and listening to the click-click of my shutter as they pay tribute... well, it just feels intrusive and wrong. The whole thing threw me for a loop, and the final roll call has been ringing in my ears all day.
I'll try to post pictures/videos from NTC here in the next few days...