Baby Update–Done!

DH and I were excited to meet our beautiful baby boy last Friday.  He decided to come two weeks early, but everyone is healthy and happy and getting to know each other at home.

My first thoughts:

  1. Tiny baby feet on you is one of the best things.
  2. Milk burps are really stinky.
  3. I really wish my house would clean itself.
  4. Thank goodness for Skype.
  5. Diaper changes are worse at 2 a.m. in the dark without glasses on.
  6. This kid keeps getting cuter.
  7. I can’t believe we got a boy.
  8. Stretch marks itch!
  9. Swollen feet are the most unattractive thing ever.

Lovey Thoughts

I just finished DH’s Valentine’s surprise.  On the years we actually celebrate, we don’t buy each other things.  We like to make things for each other.  This year I made two index cards with stick figures, one soldier and one preggo.  The preggo is dropping hearts out of a bucket for the soldier to follow.  It’s corny, I know, but I folded them up and slid them into his wallet for him to find at work tomorrow.  We aren’t big celebratory people usually, but this idea tickled me.

Sometimes the smallest, silliest idea makes someone feel the most loved.  Just make sure it feels like it came from you.  Hope everyone has a great V-day tomorrow.

Unexpected Side Effects

I know I’m behind a bit, but I just watched Love and Other Drugs.*

That movie is the start of my and DH’s relationship if you change out awkward high school students for all the pretty people.  I didn’t realize that when I sat down to watch.  I thought I was sneaking in a chick flick while DH was gone, but instead I watched my life 10 years ago.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my love story.  It’s mine and beautiful and so not normal for being 17 years old, and I know that.  I feel incredibly lucky and special, but I’m afraid it doesn’t apply anymore.  I know that doesn’t make sense, but watch the movie.  I was a sick person, and as a kid, I struggled with that in a big way.  High school was hard.  I just wanted to blend in and be normal, and having an incurable, indescribable disease did not help with that at all.  I didn’t want to be defined as a sick person, yet I had to come to terms with the fact that I would not get better.  It’s not an easy concept for a teenager.  It was huge for me, so it was a huge factor in the beginning of DH and I’s relationship.

Fast forward to a few months ago, and my sick status has changed.  We’re still waiting for the cards to fall, but things aren’t the same as they were when I was young and stupid.  The thing that was so central to making us us isn’t there anymore.  It’s like when you read about obese people losing a ton of weight, but their minds continue to see themselves as heavy.  My mind hasn’t processed not being sick.  I don’t want to say I miss it.  I don’t.  But learning to be not sick is almost as hard as coming to terms with being incurable.

I haven’t noticed the slightest change in my relationship, and I’m not worried about it.  It honestly didn’t come to mind, but then I watched the movie and remembered the part my sickness played in creating us.  My love story doesn’t apply anymore, and that makes me sad.  Like thinking about to your first date and suddenly realizing you can’t remember every little detail anymore.  You loved it but it’s gone.  The story is still mine, but the wonderful, tender things I fell in love with in DH don’t apply in the same way.  That part of us is gone.

Watch the movie.  It wasn’t bad.  And when you reach the scene where Anne drops the glass, know that I’ve been there in that exact spot and it means the world to her.  It meant the world to me.


*The amount of Anne Hathaway boobage (and I mean whole bub, not some nip slip) is offset only by the amount of Jake Gyllenhaal bum action.  They are really thrown around quite liberally.  Not necessarily complaining, just putting that out there.

Hot And Colds

The in-laws just left this morning, and the hubs and I are glued to the couch sick.  It’s been a busy week.

There’s been no air conditioning at work for over a week and a half, and the summer reading program for kids just started.  It’s like a race between me and three hundred kids to see who can get the crankiest the fastest.

I’ve been wrestling with TriCare on getting a referral for a therapist.  As always, the referral process is cumbersome and slow, but you know, I will be going to a person eventually.  A friend of mine pays out of pocket for her therapist, and I hate hearing her struggle with her mental health versus the cost of care.  It shouldn’t be a factor, and it makes me so thankful for my frustrating, stupid TriCare referral system.  I originally wanted to talk more about that now, but this cold is taking over.

DH surprised me by coming home a couple days early, which was lovely and unexpected.  I don’t know about you, but after a long absence when the phone calls start to drop off, I sometimes daydream that he can’t answer his phone because he’s on a plane coming to see me.  Now that he’s actually delivered once, my daydreams are going to go wild.  Speaking of absences, we got notice for the next deployment.  Boo.

Now back to my kleenex box.  At least there’s AC at home.


Goodnight, Milo.  I can’t tell you how much I’m going to miss throwing you a ball.  It doesn’t seem fair, but I doubt it ever would no matter how long we waited.  Oh, you Sweet Old Man…I love you so much.

Not A Typical Valentine’s Day Rant

Perhaps this is ill timed, but I’ve been working on this for a few days and it just happened to get finished on Valentine’s Day. But I rant because a I’m passionate about my marriage, totally in love with my hubs, and hope that everybody gets so lucky as to find their own bliss.

I’m a huge Food Network fan, and I spend an obscene amount of time listening to it while I’m at home. Giada de Laurentiis has numerous shows now. Everyday Italian is one, and Giada At Home is another. Both are way too fancy for me to attempt, but it all still looks delicious and I catch her shows every now and then.

Anyway, Giada is interviewed in the February edition of Redbook magazine. Part of the interview is her advice for having a successful relationship since she’s been with her husband since 1989. She is quoted as saying:

All men want to be treated like kings in a relationship, and I think if women don’t indulge that sometimes, their men are likely to stray and look for someone who can give that to them.

She also says she tries to be the woman her husband fell in love with twenty years ago, but that isn’t being passed around as much as this quote. Both are receiving harsh criticism around the web.

I wonder how much of the backlash is because Giada is absolutely stunning. She was also born in Rome, so some traditional Italian family values have to be poking up here. But, like most comments in the press, it is chopped and distorted out of context.

But what’s the difference? Are her comments really that bad? I’m certainly not a raging feminist, but I think it’s a majority consensus now that women are perfectly capable of having careers and families and the best marriages attempt to create an equal partnership. Even in this nomadic military lifestyle it was a foregone conclusion that I would work and have my own career. I don’t see Giada’s comments as going against that at all. She travels a ton for her job and works a lot of hours. What’s so bad about coming home and throwing herself just as hard at being a wife and mother?

I wouldn’t place all the blame on women if their husbands cheat—you both gotta want to be there working at your marriage—but I think she has somewhat of a point. It’s not a crime to want to feel special and loved and needed, and that’s a big thing you provide for the other person in a relationship. If you treat your spouse like their any ol’ person you’d meet during your day, you’re not doing a good job of that.

Perhaps my views aren’t popular, and I’m sure I sound like ridiculously conservative 1950s perfect wifey, but I can’t stand to hear all the negative press out there about Giada’s comments. It’s so discouraging to see how such views aren’t tolerated because they seem outdated and unfair to women. When did we get so politically correct and focused on extreme gender equality that it’s a bad and shocking thing to say that you enjoy and try to dote on your spouse? I truly believe that everyone has to find their own specific formula for a successful relationship. Yes, I really, really enjoy making my husband’s lunch for work every day. I get a lot of crap for it at my job though—like I’m trying to be Miss Perfect Betty Crocker. I just like knowing that he’s eating healthy, we’re saving money, and that he thinks of me when he takes his lunch at noon. It’s something small I can do for him that brightens his day. If you try your hardest to do things like this for your husband, and hopefully you’re with someone who is also trying their hardest to do things like this for you, it will all balance out. Isn’t that the point?

First Day Back


I got up 45 minutes early this morning to make him eggs and toast before his first day back at work.  Guess which stage I’m in?


From across the world, from a shit hole that’s trying to kill him, my love sends me this song and tells me he’s thinking of me.

And suddenly everything’s perfect.


DH has a poetic soul and a way with words that I will never achieve no matter how much I write.  And when he’s home, we like to listen to our favorite poets.  Because I’m missing him and anxious to have him home, I wanted to share a few.

Rives always tops our list.  His poems like “Kite,” “Gorgeous,” and “Girls with Guitars” are filled with humor but are such unique love poems.  His site, shopliftwindchimes (no relation 🙂 ) is neat too.  He calls him self a paper engineer because he makes pop-up books, which I think is so clever.

Taylor Mali’s poems like “On Girls Lending Pens,” “The Impotence of Proofreading,” and “What Teachers Make” show his teacher-by-day lifestyle.  “Labeling Keys” is a touching tribute to his father.  “Entire Act of Sorrow” and “For the Life of Me” are for his wife and are the most honest sentiments I’ve heard from someone who only witnessed depression.

Shihan is another poet that has beautiful love poems.  His partnership with Poetri and Black Ice is just plain funny.

Anything by Willi Perdomo is also a regular on our playlists.

But nothing sounds as good as when he reads Pablo Neruda’s “Tonight I Can Write the Saddest Lines” to me, especially in Spanish.  These poets are good, but my baby’s voice is all I need to make anything sound wonderful.

Shout Out

I just got this text message from one of my Cool Man Group who helped me make strawberry jam.

This is CMG #2’s facebook status:

Dear Solitary Wind Chime I know you don’t have a Facebook but I must tell everyone your cheesecake was AMAZING!!

Aww, shucks.

I made my squares of cheesecake deliciousness for the canning evening at the request of CMG #1’s hubby who wanted the leftovers.  We made it a girl’s night and enjoyed our chocolate and cheesecake to the fullest.

I feel so loved.  🙂

Previous Older Entries