It's Time to Move Again, So I'm Pregnant

Adam's final stint of training is coming to an end and by this January(ish) we will be stationed in Beaufort, South Carolina. We put in an offer for a house in Beaufort and are planning holidays with family as well as the upcoming move. Something we did not plan for...


Baby number three.


Though it was a major surprise and it, of course, changes a lot of things, we are so excited. And we are pretty good by now at moving while pregnant or with a newly born infant, so it should be a piece of cake. Mmmmm, cake.... Just kidding. Not quite to that point. Yet. 

Floor Cleanliness and the Devices Responsible: A Mostly Worthless Read

Have you ever done something for a really long time that could have been immediately made easier by a simple change? I do that all the time.

One such change I recently made after laboring over my carpeted floors for an entire year with nothing more than a chargeable, hand held, vacuum cleaner.

Actually, "vacuum cleaner" may be a bit of an exaggeration since it neither sucks nor cleans very well at all. Another one of its flaws, as if those first two accusations weren't incriminating enough, is the fact that it only stays charged for a few minutes, getting me only partway through the living area of the trailer before its power begins to audibly wane. This is when I inevitably pick up my speed, scurrying around on my hands and knees trying to get as much of the dirt and grime off the floor as I can before the battery gives out completely. But at this point the suction has lessened considerably and by the time I get to the three steps at the far end of the living room, I find I'm only rearranging the dirt on the floor with the vacuum nozzle.

Now, I should add, that I have fairly long hair; it ends about halfway down my back and is pretty thick too. I also shed like a dog. Especially right after a shower. Sometimes I wonder how I have any hair at all on my head with how much I shed on a daily basis. But I digress...

The problem with this is that all of that hair that falls out has a very concentrated amount of square footage that it must reside in once detaching and descending from its follicles. And the hand held vacuum I have been using for the last year, doesn't have enough suction to pick up a single strand of it.

Some of my extreme methods I have resorted to involve picking it up in clumps with my hands, bringing in the monster shop vac that lives beneath the trailer and is home to hundreds of spiders, and (my personal favorite) getting down on my hands and knees with a small lint roller to collect hair off every square inch of the carpet. The rolling usually lasted only about two seconds before I had to tear off a layer of the hair entangled, once sticky lint collector. It got a bit time consuming, but I was desperate.

Looking back, it boggles my mind why I didn't consider different options sooner. But it was only thanks to Hurricane Irene, relocating me and mine to the middle of Virginia and next to a nice older couple with an actual working vacuum cleaner, that I finally realized my ability to easily rectify my less than desirable, self-inflicted situation. It was not long after arriving back in Virginia Beach that I shopped my local supermarket for the long-overdue replacement of my carpet cleaning device.

Enter...

...The Shark.

Okay, its not really as cool as the image its brand name might inspire. And its still a hand held, but it has a much bigger nozzle, which is handy when vacuuming one's entire carpeted floors, and it has the ability to pick up hair (a significant plus). It also is a good, old-fashioned plug-in-to-a-wall-outlet sort of vacuum, which is refreshing. I don't even mind when the cord gets in the way!

You may be a little disappointed for reading this entire blog entry, and rightly so. But I hope at least some of you are comforted with the knowledge that my floors are clean with much less effort and trial.

And if that's not enough, be consoled that perhaps someone may have read this and been inspired to scrutinize their own life and recognize such an unnecessary complication that could be easily targeted and rectified through a simple change.

I just hope that simple change isn't the decision to no longer read this blog in an effort to not waste any further time.

Earthquakes, Hurricanes and Poisonous Arachnids

It hasn't been a normal week. It started with my husband leaving on Saturday for a two week training jaunt in Key West. Goodbyes were said, tears were shed and then the onslaught began. Not in a completely awful way, but just a not-so-normal, exciting but somewhat stressful sort of way. This is, of course, thoroughly expected however, since the absence of a husband usually brings with it difficulties best handled by the husband.


So, on Tuesday, when Virginia Beach and much of the East Coast was rattled with an earthquake measuring 5.8 on the Richter scale, I was not surprised. I was pretty pshyched actually. I have never experienced an actual earthquake. Though this one was a bit on the sorry side and not much to write home about, it was, nonetheless, an actual earthquake.


It was that same day that I also began hearing rumors that hurricane Irene was barreling towards the east coast with a vengeance as if we had just run off with her first born. 


With this news also came the realization that I would have to single-handedly hook up and drive our wheeled home far enough inland to protect it from the unprovoked wrath of the impending watery Fraulein. Luckily, after some discussion my father-in-law offered to come help me so I will not be alone in this venture as first presumed. Which is probably a good thing since me trying to drive a truck pulling a 34' fifth wheel camper may actually inflict more damage on Virginia Beach than Irene.


Yesterday, I began preparations for the unexpected relocation. It involved clearing out the area beneath the trailer, loading up bikes and outside toys for the storage unit, stacking firewood, rolling in awnings, and brushing away debris. 


I also needed to fill the fresh water tank in the trailer. I went around to the valve on the back side and began the process. As I stood there holding the water hose into the uncapped fresh water tank, I noticed something. A large spider web grossly stretched across the side of the trailer and its slide-out. Leaves, twigs and insects had been snared and tangled into the vicious looking death trap only inches away from my leg. Then I saw her. Her black sleek body. Eight shiny legs resting elegantly on her woven throne. The brilliant crimson hourglass gracing her back as if a prideful warning to allow her victims a head start. The Black Widow.


She was probably the size of my hand, at least. Poison dripping from her venomous fangs as she watched me, smirking. It was that very second - that second of realization - that Caleb, who was playing beside me with a stick, decided to attack the monstrous web. 


An image of horror flashed before my eyes that involved the hideous beast leaping away from my three year old's thrashing and directly on to my face, where it would inevitably suck out all of my fluids. Other mental versions of the image involved her sprouting massive wings and carrying some sort of battle ax while screaming something unintelligible in Russian. 


I reacted accordingly, grabbing Caleb's stick and warning him off with a lot of hollering and waving. However, this caused the water hose to work its way out of the fresh water tank and spray the the side of the trailer and the spider's web. Water erupted violently as I tried to force the hose back into the tank. I held Caleb with my other hand, my eyes glued to the villainous creature as it escaped to the underbelly of the trailer for safety.


I decided I was finished with outside work for the day and went inside to try and resume normal heart function. 


That evening our friend, Wallace, came over to help me move stuff to storage and put the fifth wheel hitch in the truck bed. I told him of the silky black villain that had decided to attach its home to my dwelling, and he offered to take a look. 


With flashlight in hand, he ripped away the spider's web and crept into its lair, beneath the slide-out. The flashlight scanned the darkness, illuminating the dusty bowels of the trailer. There she sat guarded only by the blackness now dissipated with the brilliant beams of justice and handheld illuminating devices. 


Granted, it was smaller than I had remembered it being. About the size of a quarter... give or take.  And then Wallace smashed it with a rolled up magazine.


So, as you can clearly see, nature, having witnessed the departure of my husband, has decided to unleash all kinds of excitement. Not really sure why, but it makes me pretty thankful for good friends and family. Also, cell phones.

Going Off the Rails on a Crazy Train...

The title is just because I've had that song stuck in my head. But it was also a pretty super, exciting weekend deserving of, at the very least, a blog post.

My awesome cousins came through Virginia Beach to visit on their way home to Florida after touring some of Canada and the East Coast. They stayed for part of Friday and Saturday and we had a total blast with them! First we took them on to base and got them some time in the simulators that the guys train in. We all got to fly the F-18 and try our hand at landing it. It was a lot of fun. I got to fly around and chase a jet that one of my cousin's was maneuvering in the other simulator. Then I attempted a landing. I got the jet down to the runway and I think touched down just as the simulator timed out and they shut it down. This can only mean one thing: I landed perfectly as far as we know. I'm pretty much ready to deploy.

That night we got together with a bunch of friends and had a rocking game night that lasted well past midnight. There was a plethora of food, fun and Corn Hole. Good times.

Saturday morning came a bit early, but the prospect of coffee kept me motivated. Breakfast involved our cousins and meeting up with some friends again at a small diner. After fueling up with sufficient caffeine and carbohydrates we bid my cousins farewell and began our own trek up to the airport. Adam had arranged a little adventure for the afternoon. We piled into the Cessna and started towards Kitty Hawk, NC or "First Flight." Adam trusted me with the controls for a little while during the flight. I did some pretty crazy stuff like kept my altitude consistent and made sure the little airplane image on the GPS screen stayed on the big purple line.

We landed in Kitty Hawk and went to get some dinner at a nearby restaurant. Nearby being essential... since we didn't have a car. Afterwards, we were to meet up with some of Adam's buddies from work and fly in formation down to Elizabeth City. But, things took an interesting turn when we got a text from his friend. He was at the airport and could see that we had left our beacon on.

After arriving back at the airport, courtesy of another buddy who was in the area, we attempted to start the airplane. Nothing. Adam then attempted to start it by spinning the propeller, which was a bit nerve-wracking for me to watch. In some ways, I was a bit relieved when this did not work either.

I should mention that a massive DUI checkpoint was taking place right at the entrance of the small airfield. This actually came in quite handy for two reasons. The first being that we were able to get some nice people to help us. The second reason being that there was a massive police bus that had a usable (though non-flushing) toilet inside. This was essential because the airfield's bathrooms were already locked for the evening.

Adam and his buddies along with several people from the police DUI checkpoint managed to get the airplane jumped using two cars and three sets of jumper cables. Impressive. Here's a low resolution image of the event.

Sadly, time had run out to go to Elizabeth City at that point, but the fun wasn't over yet. Adam and his friend were prepping to do a formation flight back to the airport. We took off with a few seconds of separation between the two airplanes and flew a low formation pass back over the airfield, for the sake of our new friends.

We followed the beach back for a while, flying lower than most of the kites we saw. We could see people waving to us from the ground. The guys got to play around with some formation stuff on the way back which kept the trip pretty exciting.

My life is not without adventure! Gotta love it!

Honey, I Think The Crapper's Full

I'm sure you've always been curious of what life would be like living in a thirty-something foot recreational vehicle with a 3 and almost 1 year old. Well, here’s your chance to learn more than you most likely wanted to, as I’ve taken it upon myself to document our usual daily routine.

It has been about 10 months since we began our full-time camping adventure. Some of the process has changed recently as the infant's mobility has increased since moving in, but our routine goes something like this:

Depending on Adam's schedule, he may get up as early as 4 am but usually it’s between 6 and 8AM. On the super early days, I hide beneath the blankets to avoid the light as Adam gets ready since the bathroom sink and mirror are about 2 feet from the bed. He does his best to sneak out of the trailer quietly, so as not to prematurely wake the kids.

The children usually wake me up in one of two ways. Either Caleb wakes the baby up which makes her scream for me to come feed her, or the baby wakes Caleb up while screaming for me to come feed her. I get out of bed and come down the three steps into the living/kitchen/dining room/office - we'll call this the Main Living Area. Jael sleeps in this part of the RV during the night, so I guess it’s also the baby's room. Caleb's room is at the far end of the trailer. It has a couch with a pull out bed which Caleb sleeps in and a wood cabinet that holds the kids clothes and a TV that we've never used.

First things first, we put away the beds. Caleb's bed is folded back into the couch and Jael's pack'n'play is relocated to Caleb's room. Then on to coffee and breakfast. Cooking has become slightly less elaborate since moving into the RV. Most spaces are used for multiple purposes. For instance, the stove top is also used as a place to dry dishes. That being, breakfast is usually limited to cold cereal.

Chores are pretty simple being that there is not a whole lot to keep clean. Organization is the key though. When the toys are out and the dishes aren't done, the place suddenly looks like a disaster. Laundry is done down at the front desk building at the KOA which makes me procrastinate as long as possible before actually doing it.

Lunch, nap time and maybe a run in to town follow – not necessarily in that order. Caleb likes to play outside and swim in the KOA pool. We usually try to do that at least a few times a week.

Dinner tests my abilities to cook a full sized meal in a miniaturized kitchen. It took some getting used to, as well as forcing me to adjust many of my shopping habits. I had the tendency to try to shop for about two weeks. Shopping is not my favorite activity, to say the least. If I had to categorize it, it would be down there with things like going to the dentist. However, the refrigerator can only accommodate a fraction of the amount food I was used to buying. It’s for the best actually. I had a lot of food going to waste in my desperation to not shop as often.

Bed time involves the rearranging of the beds again. After the stories are told, kisses are doled out and the lights are turned off, Adam and I remove ourselves to the bedroom. Not a whole lot can be accomplished after bed time since we are banished from the main living area. So, we either watch a movie on the laptop, play a game, read, etc. Or go to bed since it’s usually pretty late at that point anyway. Time to sleep and repeat.

RV Living Part II: Random Things We had to Master

Bath time was challenging at first. There is only a shower stall in the RV-no bathtub. Caleb was (and is still) not a huge fan of showers but at the age of two was thrust into this apparently terrifying method of hygiene. He used to scream so horribly when it was time to take a shower that I was afraid at any moment during the process the neighbors were going to burst through the door with Child Protective Services. With time he’s gotten much better. However, I was still left with the dilemma of what to do about the infant.

I opted for a large inflatable yellow duck bathtub which I purchased from Wal-mart for around $11. I thought it a great investment. It was cheap and I could deflate it for easy storage. I was exuberantly proud of myself. (I mostly just wanted to use the word ‘exuberantly’ right there). That’s not to say I wasn’t proud of my purchase, because I was.

And it worked alright for a little while. I ended up leaving it inflated since it was more of a hassle to let the air out and blow it up all the time. There was a problem, however. Caleb immensely enjoyed squeezing the beak of the inflated duck because it would quack. In a matter of days the plastic seam connecting the beak to the head had begun to give way allowing a very small amount of air to seep out. Thus it began to look more like a duck with an eating disorder rather than the boisterous, quacking thing it was before.

I discovered this right before needing to give Jael a bath. I searched for some sort of patching device. I tried every type of tape I could find, all to no avail. Out of desperation and lack of proper patching tools, I grabbed a shoelace and wrapped it multiple times around the duck's neck, blocking any air escaping through the head and out the beak. It was necessary but also a gruesome sight as now I had strangulated the poor thing and deflated the head. But it worked for the intended purpose. After the bath I left the poor murdered duck in the shower stall and was only reminded of it when Adam arrived home and went to take a shower. Apparently he hadn't expected to find the maimed, half-inflated duck remains when he opened the door.

I replaced the duck with a suitable (non-inflatable) plastic tub shaped like a whale. It has survived to date.

Something we had to get used to was not running too many electrical devices at one time. If we do the breaker blows and we have to trudge outside and around the RV to reset it. And this always seems to happen when you are wearing nothing but underwear or you are in a hurry (most likely both). The important one we had to remember was turning off the A/C before using the microwave or the hair dryer or any combination of those.

The RV came with two TV’s. They're both slightly outdated by today's standards, but the one we use works well enough. However, it apparently has a wiring issue and it will often lose sound. We discovered over time that the only way to fix it was to whack it on the side. Other than living in a trailer, it’s the one thing that makes me feel like a redneck.

We’ve learned to never take a shower if someone else in the trailer needs to be using the water elsewhere. Or it will be frigidly cold or scorching hot, depending on which faucet the other person decides to use. Upside: If your spouse has recently said/did something thoughtless right before climbing into the shower, it can come in handy. Not that I’ve ever done something so childish…

And, of course, there is the emptying of the tanks. As Adam said half-jokingly last night, “if I have to hear one more person ask me if my crapper’s full…”

Despite the necessary adjustments, we are enjoying RV living. And there are definitely things I am going to miss when we move on. Like the closeness of the family. Literally. We are forced to be very close to each other. The ridiculous amount of money we are saving. The feel of camping and the whenever-we-want nighttime campfires. The sound of rain hitting the roof.

Also, the ability to clean the entire house in under five minutes.

Too Long For a Facebook Status...

My friend just fired up her photography website and I wanted to browse the pictures on her site. Caleb excitedly crawled into my lap and exclaimed, "are we going to look at jets?!" As the slideshow of babies, couples in love and happy families began rolling he was obviously disappointed. He grunted, "no... Where are my Tomcat jets?" As each new picture appeared Caleb gave a loud, disapproving grunt. Then, as if by miraculous intervention, an image of a lovely couple in front of a T-45 trainer jet appeared. He was elated. "There's my jet! There's my jet!" After it was replaced by something relatively uninteresting to a near three year old, he went back to grunting.

He was excited again however when a picture of me while I was pregnant with my baby girl popped up. He lit up and pointed crying, "look! That's you with the baby in your bottom!" I was near to weeping, for a couple reasons, when he repeated it, just in case I hadn't heard.