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.

PATENT PENDING

My husband is an inventor. He has an extensive pallet of interests in this field but most revolve around new and innovative forms of energy, transportation, weaponry and communication. He is brilliant and I often find myself being inspired to invent (or at least hypothesize) as well!

Well, he calls it ADD and it usually involves me interrupting his detailed explanation of whatever he is working on to excitedly present my own. This, I am sure, gets frustrating for him, but he takes it well and usually spends about 30 seconds quickly and gently debunking me theory.

Like this morning, for example. As he was drawing many a fascinating squiggles and variously angled lines to assist in describing the functions of his theoretical device, I had a brilliant, world changing epiphany regarding renewable (or dare I say "free") energy.

He paused to hear out my amazing discovery. It is as follows:

I suggested creating a bowl shaped reservoir with a wall (like a dam) straight across along its diameter. One side of the "bowl" would be filled to the top with water while the other side is empty. Then to create energy in the same a way a dam would, just open a door at the base of the dam and let the water flow in until that side is full. Then repeat in reverse! You wouldn't have to rely on weather, but just reuse the same water over and over again.

Well, Adam quickly explained to me (in simple picture form to hold my attention) why that would not work. As I'm sure you have figured out, letting out the water from one side would only fill up the other side until the two levels of water are even, therefore creating basically a giant swimming pool rather than a renewable energy source.

Even in the wake of my deflated discovery, I have pressed onward, certain that soon one of my ideas will make it past my first level of peer review (aka: Adam).

And one has! Its slightly more selfish then my search for a free energy source, but in the spirit of capitalism, I think its an untapped source of incredible wealth. It came to me as Adam was describing someone's idea for a massive solar energy plant. With great charisma my sudden epiphany grabbed me by the brain and shook me until I took heed of its incredible possibilities. With all this interest in finding environmentally friendly forms of renewable energy (like solar, wind, etc.) comes a huge financial opportunity to take advantage of!

Which is: I need to claim the sun.

Its brilliant. All organizations, corporations and governments utilizing the sun's benefits will then be required to pay me royalties.

All I need now is a nonflammable flag and an auto piloted rocket.

All Rights Reserved

The Good Job Guru

Upon Adam's arrival home last night, Caleb tells him, "good job flying jets." He is very good at positive reinforcement. He is also very polite. When I tell him I love him he replies with, "thank you." When he kisses me he follows it with, "you're welcome."

He is always telling me "good job" throughout the day. Like when I get him the juice he's been asking for, or when I put his shoes on to go outside.

With all this positive reinforcement, he's training me pretty effortlessly.

Speaking of training... I have begun the potty training process. Technique of choice: Candy. Yes, I bribe my child. Tell me a better way to get a 2.5 year old boy to stop playing with his toy jets and other household objects to tinkle in a plastic chair when sitting in his own waste doesn't seem to phase him.

I have a feeling the female is going to be a lot easier in that regard. She despises a wet or dirty diaper and doesn't hesitate in telling me about it in the loudest way she knows how. The minute the diaper change begins, she is all smiles. She also enjoys bath time and getting her clothes changed. She's so stereotypical.

On a fresher note, Caleb is both lovingly affectionate and an extremely generous big brother. As you can see from this picture...

Jael is never without sufficient blankets, toys and kisses.

Purely Hypothetical

"I have an idea, but you'll need to just hear me out." When Adam says phrases like this I get concerned. As I did about two months ago when he said something along those lines followed by, "instead of renting, we could live in an RV to save money." I vehemently fought such a notion and tried to change his mind. That is until I toured some of the rental options offered here in Virginia Beach. Our price range was slightly lower so that we could put money aside for a down payment on a house in South Carolina. With that in mind, we still were figuring about $1000-$1200 a month. But for such a price we could getting nothing better than old, worn out, beaten up, un-kept and bug infested 2 bedroom/1 bath apartments or small houses. One house had an incredibly horrible moth infected tree out front, which was void of any leafage due to it's inhabitants. The house was also thoroughly infected. Suddenly the RV didn't sound like an all bad idea. In fact as soon as I saw my husband I was nearly begging him to buy me one.

So here I sit, in my dining room/office/living room/kitchen. And I don't at all mind. It keeps things simple since most of our stuff had to stay in storage. I like simple. And I like all the windows.

Between The Sniffles and Chicken Soup, I Shall Blog

Caleb turned 2 years old on April 25th. Adam turned 30 years old on May 23rd. Our marriage turned 3 years old on May 26th. Dash "2" is now 7 months along and kicking furiously at my rib cage. I think he/she wants out as much as I want he/she out. My cravings mostly involve lemon and cake, together. Excepting an odd craving I don't remember experiencing during my last pregnancy. The craving to smell: Windex, the new fresh smelling Dishwasher liquid soap I found, and of course, Sharpies. On several occasions I have said to myself, "I should clean the bathroom" knowing the only reason for such a thought is to smell the Windex while cleaning the mirror... twice. I have had to resist the urge when passing a Sharpie, to rip off the cap and inhale deeply or take a whiff of the dishwasher soap as I squirt it into the trays.

Adam's mom was in town for a few weeks to help us out with Caleb. Caleb called her "Monka," affectionately. He still walks to the guest room door from time to time and calls, "Monka, Monka!" Poor guys is heartbroken when I have to explain to him again that Monka had to go home to Grandpa. He enjoyed having her here very much.

We had a garage and bake sale while Monka was here as well. We sold almost all of our junk which was such a great feeling! Not to mention raking in the dough. Monka and I made homemade Apple Butter and canned it (for future reference- homemade, canned salsa would have done much better here). We made lots of different kinds of cookies (including lemon filled cookies that were definitely my favorite). And I even tried my hand at fudge. One batch turned out. One did not, so much. But it was all a learning experience and we made a little extra money on top of it.

Our efforts were promptly turned into a 50" flat screen HD television.

Adam is now Carrier Qualified as of June 13th. He was flown out commercially to Jacksonville, FL on the 9th. He saw the USS George W.H. Bush from the cockpit of the T-45 after flying solo about 100 miles off shore. He caught the target wire his first landing. Such a stud. :)

That Sick Feeling in the Pit of Your Stomach?

Its the sensation you feel as our beloved country spirals rapidly down the socialist drain. Please make it stop. I'm going to be sick...

Nothing Comes To Mind

I just know I need to write something. Its been months and much has happened.

Discovering we are pregnant with Baby Stoll No. 2. Trying to keep our special secret quiet until Christmas when we would deliver the news to family and friends. The holiday season and beginning of a new year. Morning sickness, expanding belly, heartburn and endlessly craving Skittles. Purchasing a VW diesel Golf. Selling of the beloved Suburban - You will be missed. Procrastinating through entire first trimester before setting up Doctor's appointment. Arriving at Doctor's office and being forced to wait away entire morning. Getting uninhibited looks of disgust from the nurse (or whatever she was) for opting out of an ultrasound and reprimanded by another along with threats of not being seen by the Doctor. More waiting. Doctor is kind and understands our reasoning unlike robotic, by-the-book drones working on his staff. The joining of a writing group to stay motivated in one of my favorite hobbies. The finishing of Phase 1 of flight school by Husband. Preparing for Husband to be very busy and gone for days at a time. Feeling the need to sleep constantly through the day. Chasing after two year old who's favorite word is "No" and favorite pass time is dismantling all kitchen cupboards within reach. Dreaming of remodeling the house when tax return is received. More Skittles. And Girl Scout Cookies. Discovering that just about everyone is pregnant and many are due around the same time that I am. Interesting...

"And when you're 2 years old, I'll teach you how to fly it!"

Now that Caleb had reached the ripe age of 18 months, Adam decided it was worthy time to take him up flying in an airplane. It was a four seat Navion owned by a retired Marine Corps veteran that did the deed during a small fly-in at Bishop Airport, just North of Kingsville. Due to illness the owner could not fly the aircraft any longer, so our pilot was a former Navy aviator that went by "Bobby."


After a test run (which I discovered much later) involved power loss due to insufficient fuel, Adam, Caleb and myself piled into the aircraft and taxied towards the runway. (The picture below is of Adam and Bobby doing some low passes during the test flight.)



Me, doing my best at confidence as we taxi out.

Caleb was far braver than I. The entire time he just sat there with this perplexed look on his face like he was trying to make sense of what was going on.

Definitely a brave kid.

So brave in fact that he soon became bored and fell asleep on Dad/Hubby (who is seen here striking a sexy pose).

I also got to test my hand at flying during our excursion. That's right, you can say it. I look like a natural.

And everyone thought Adam was the pilot in the family.

If Ever Asked I Can Now Answer, "Why yes, I have flown in formation."

Saturday, October 24th, 2009 started out like many other Saturdays before it. Adam and I were planning a list of work to do around the house which began with a trip to the local Wal-mart to get Lupa a fresh supply of dog food. Adam sat in the driver seat, engine running and anxious to get on his way, as I bombarded him with a small list of items I had forgotten during my last supermarket excursion. Just as he caved and began writing down the items his phone rang.

I knew by the excitement in his eyes and the use of words like: "fly-in," "T-6," "Stearman," "What time?," "Right now?!" our day was not going to continue as planned.

I went back inside quickly and freshened up (since I was still in my jammies) while Adam followed me, excitedly devising the plan. I brushed my teeth and wiped at the mascara debris from beneath my eyes before grabbing my purse. I dropped Adam off at the airport so he could fly up with Levi (one of the jet pilots in training) in his Yak.

After I was ready I drove up to Robstown to meet him.

Just being there was quite an experience. There were a couple old World War II era planes, a few Cessna's, an RV4 (which belonged to Ryan, also a student going through jet training), Levi's Yak and a lot of other planes that I don't have names for. The people were awesome to talk to. Some were retired military, others flew as a hobby. All were really cool.

Adam introduced me to Ryan who offered to take me up in his RV4.

Levi took off in his Yak along with us and flew formation. It was the most incredible thing to look over and see another plane so close to by!

The last time I had been flying in a small airplane was on our honeymoon over two years ago. There was a guy on the island right before Key West that took us up in his Waco, an open cockpit bi-plane. He had done some mild aerobatics and left me terrified of small planes-and, more importantly, their pilots.

So I was pretty nervous going up. I begged Ryan to go easy on me and he did a great job of keeping me comfortable. We flew a few lapse over the small airfield before we broke formation. One wing dropped towards the ground and I got to experience about 3 positive G's as we descended. Okay, so most of the guys down here would laugh at that, but there has to be a first step!

We hung out there the rest of the day. Adam went up a number of times as "camera man" and Caleb had a blast watching the airplanes come in and out.

The other military wife, Carrie, that came up with me got to fly in one of the T-6's which I was very proud of her for doing so. I had only met her once before but already was aware of her claustrophobic fears while flying. I don't know if she'll go back up any time soon though. As they were flying a four plane formation over Corpus Christi, they ran out of gas which killed the motor causing them to start descending. The pilot (a retired military guy) worked fast to switch tanks and start the engine again. They made an emergency landing in Corpus and refuelled before heading back.

As the sun began to set, Adam left with Caleb leaving me to fly back to the airfield with Levi. The Yak was a few times bigger than the RV4 so it felt like a whole new experience. We each had our own parachute which Levi briefed me on. Though it was a necessary conversation, it was a little nerve-wracking hearing instructions on how to bail out.

We took off at the same time as Ryan and flew in formation back to the airfield where Adam was waiting. Here's a picture of the Levi's Yak. That is not me in the back.

After Ryan broke off we did some mild (in Levi's opinion) aerobatics. I honestly was so preoccupied with surviving that I really don't know what all we did. I know we went inverted a couple times and I definitely experienced both negative and positive G's, though he did try to stay away from the negative ones at my pleading. It was terrifying! But so much fun! He was definitely more aggressive but still kept it within reason. As he put it, "there's no one that doesn't want you to get sick more than the one who has to clean it up."

It was comforting.

Playing My Rockstar Guitar

The Rantings of a Good Housewife

A while back I was presented with this supposed excerpt from an article written and distributed in the 1950's as a "good house wife's guide." The woman that shared with me the article did so with complete disgust and scoffed at the "rules" that it described. I did not know this woman. I had gone on to base to get the tags on our windshield replaced and she was a random employee working in the building. As I was waiting for my tags to be printed out, this woman said, "listen to this!" and began reading the so called article. When I returned home I did some research on the article and found it many places, mostly on feminist blogs like below:

http://sylviagarza.wordpress.com/2009/05/06/1955-good-housewifes-guide/

Here is also a link to Snopes.com and what they have to say about it.

http://www.snopes.com/language/document/goodwife.asp

Beside the fact that it is most likely partially (if not completely) fabricated by those wanting to "make us feel better about how far our society has come" it still makes me laugh that feminists have to dig so far back and deep to try to scar men's character. I've found this article on so many feminist sites ranting about how ridiculous it is. Do they have nothing else to bring against men than a fabricated article (or at the very least taken completely out of context) written in the 1950's! Obviously different time periods had different standards of living and societal rules that were followed without much questioning. For the most part, it was what their mothers did and how they were raised. What they were raised to be and (dare I say) what they WANTED to be! (Side note: The divorce rate was A LOT lower in the 1950's than it is today. Here is a divorce rate graph from 1950 to 2000: http://www.bsos.umd.edu/socy/vanneman/socy441/trends/divorce.html)

Needless to say, it wasn't even the men demanding such duties from the women. It was other women. The moms. The grandmas. The elders who knew how to please their men and have happy marriages. On top of that (excepting a few lines in the article which were either Bold, highlighted, or circled in every version I came across to emphasize its ridiculousness) are these suggestions even that bad? I think if we as women more often went out of our way to make sure that our husbands came home to a clean house, dinner on the table, a fresh smile, and/or just an all around pleasant, welcoming environment, wives today would be much happier as well as the men. Men would want to come home. They would want to spend time with their wives rather than needing to "escape" the home life. There would be fewer men committing adultery. There would be fewer unsatisfied wives. There would be happier, more successful marriages and a lower divorce rate.


Both the man and the woman would be happier. Not just because of the satisfaction that caring for your husband brings with itself, but also because of how much that effort would alter the husband's affection and desire to love and provide for his wife.

Its marriage 101. When your spouses needs are met, yours will be in turn.

When I have a hot dinner on the table when my husband gets home, take his shoes off for him, kiss and hug him and greet him with a smile, he wants to give me the world in return! When I'm treating him the way I should treat him, he follows suite. And that goes the other way around too. Its not complicated, ladies. Our grandma's had it down.


I think another interesting fact to note is that we (whether we work or not) expect our husband's to provide some if not all of the family income. Even feminists would look down on theirs or a their girl friend's husband who was sitting at home all day while she went out and worked to provide for them.

You can't have it both ways. If you are going to set the bar and demand he provide, then shouldn't he have the right to demand a few things himself? Hmmm...

I've heard so many woman say that, "if my career was to become successful at some point and my husband and I decide to have kids, I would just make him stay home with them. Its your turn honey."


Okay so let me get this straight. He provides for you now. He had to work up from nothing and provide for you and your family while you get started doing whatever you want to do. And then when you become successful during the comfort and security of his job and hard work, you are just going to demand that he just stop what he has worked for and desires to do because you're ready to take over? No, really. That sounds like a recipe for a healthy marriage. I'm sure he won't resent you at all.

The same angry women that complain about some fabricated article forged to resemble the ideologies of the 1950's are the same women that would enforce the very same rules on their own husband's, given the chance. Can we have some consistency, please?


For better understanding, lets reverse the situation: John Doe has a wife (Jane Smith-she kept her last name, refusing to take his just because they married) who works at a major law firm in New York. John Doe has had some trouble getting his own business on its feet, so he is relying on his wife's income to support them both in the process. 10 years and a lot of procrastination later he taps into a good market and creates a very profitable business. The problem: they've just adopted two Indonesian children before Angelina Jolie could get to them. But that's okay; John Doe has a solution. Its a no brainer. He's successful now, so its Jane Smith's turn. She can drop her job, salary and desire to work (now not as worthy of notice beside his own success) and stay home with the kids - I mean after all, he's successful now, right?

I could feel feminists cringing as I wrote that. It looks so much worse from that angle, right? But, why? Shouldn't men get at least equal respect and consideration? I mean, that's all woman are asking for. Why should it be any different (since we're equal and all) that John Doe demand this of his wife (who has had the last ten years to work) just like some feminists demand this of their working husbands?


In the feminists effort to make themselves "equal" in their own understanding they belittled the men. And in doing so the image of men has been brutally scared. He has been emasculated, disrespected, made out to be the bully and the bad guy, but still forced to provide every bit as much as before, though given none of the respect or credit for doing so. We take at face value current Hollywood films and popular books that depict the past male generations (like men in the 1950's) as abusive, overbearing, condescending to women and their intellect, exaggerating stereotypes to make a point about the struggles women face against the "evil man." We are urged to believe that these depictions of male history are accurate. Examples may even be given or portrayed, but they are exaggerated, taken out of context and most importantly (when considering truly selfish and immoral men) presented as "normal."


But when actually researched in the context of the societal setting (like in films or books actually made in the 1950's), we find a healthy respect for women and (even more shocking when paralleled with today's woman) a healthy respect for men.

Unlike today, in the 1950's the majority of men were raised (and desired) to provide for their wives and the majority of women were raised (and desired) to, in turn, care for their husbands who provided for them. Women today are trained to expect that men provide for them but not trained to deserve it or even acknowledge it! The man's effort is taken for granted, belittled, disrespected and even scoffed at. It is even taken as a threat or a ploy to become superior over women. Do we not realize that we are the ones they are working hard to provide for, and we never even had to ask for it? As they support us financially we are given the opportunity to pursue anything we love or desire- career, education, children or hobbies. A chance that very few men ever get because they're too busy providing for their family. But we are refusing and even appalled at the idea of wiping the dust of a table before their return. Astounded at even the hint of being obligated to freshen ourselves up and plan a meal for his return. Disgusted at the idea of welcoming him home with a smile.

Are we out of our minds?

Instead society tells us to mock him for even suggesting that we needed his provision. After all, we can provide for ourselves just fine, so why should we thank him or show him respect for doing so? Instead we treat him as if he's holding us back. We demand and expect our husbands to do so much for us. But then we turn up our noses at the idea of giving them anything in return. We feel entitled to his provision and demand the opportunity to work - if we feel like it.

And then we wonder why the divorce rate is at 50%.

IHOP + Angry Employees = Strange Breakfast Experience

This morning began with Adam fulfilling a promise to take me to IHOP before leaving on an all-weekend, cross-country. We arrived at the IHOP around 9:00A.M. enthusiastic at the prospect of drinking coffee and gorging on extravagantly sweetened stacks of pancakes. It was as we expected. Wonderful.

But as we sat sipping the last of our coffee and discussing Adam's design for a four-seat aircraft with hovering capabilities, a commotion arose from the direction of the kitchen. At first it sounded like the typical bustling and talking that you might hear in a restaurant - only slightly louder - so, I didn't pay it much attention. Soon, however, Adam was listening more intently. I stopped whatever I was jabbering about (most likely the intake system and probability of sufficient air flow... or not) and listened as well. The noise coming from the kitchen had escalated into an obviously heated argument with one woman's voice overpowering the others. She was screaming and ranting with other voices mingling loudly with hers. It grew so loud and obvious that everyone in IHOP was focused on the kitchen with some measure of interest or concern.

Our waitress came to our table, obviously embarrassed, and joked that "somebody" was going to get fired.

Faster than it arose, the commotion died down to a barely audible hum and the atmosphere went back to normal. I assume "somebody" was forced to leave through the back door.

Though IHOP has had its fair share of strange occurrences, this one topped the list of ones I have witnessed. I was just glad at that moment we had already received and eaten our food. I know its selfish to think of such trivial things under those circumstances, but I would have been suspicious of any food that was prepared in such an emotionally charged kitchen.

And that would have been sad, for I so love their strawberry cheesecake pancakes.

A Few Things...

A few things have happened during my absence from blogging. There was, of course, Lady Redhawk Day. However, due to my husband's thoroughness in backing up family photos on an exterior drive (and my unwillingness to plug in a USB cable), I have only this one picture to document an entire day of the bliss I felt dressed in a Marine flight suit, practicing in legitimate military aviation simulators and sitting in fired-up T-45 jets. That's me in the middle with my Marine face on. (I swear I was happy.)

There was the repairing of a battery powered, John Deer tractor we picked up from Goodwill a few months back for five bucks. Caleb helped dad fix it. If sitting on the seat and pulling loose wires constitutes as helping. Either way, both dad and kid had fun fixing it up...

And both dad and kid had fun driving it around...

One evening there was a tandem bike ride down to the Star's Drive-in hamburger joint. Excepting the "Star's" logo on the sign, the place is a complete knock-off of Sonic's, menu included. It's as much as we can ask for here in Kingsville though. To have the real thing we'd have to trek 45 minutes to Corpus Christi. Nevertheless, the food was good and I treated myself to a Butterfinger Blast which Caleb greedily fought me for.

I don't know what sick power that child has over me, but he always seemed to get to the spoon before I could.

There was a random photo of Caleb's cuteness taken.

There was my daring venture to an unknown salon in Kingsville to get bangs cut. For real bangs this time. Not what the last stylist thought bangs were. They're fun, but they are hard to keep up with. I have to seriously saturate them with product and dry and straighten them into submission for them to look half decent. Even after all that effort though, it doesn't take much for them to rebelliously part in the middle or wave at the ends. It was worth a try though.

Here's a side view (for the necessary full effect).

There was a Saturday night spent with my little family at a dirt race track. It was fun and my first time experiencing such a thing. I now know where everyone I see at Wal-mart spends their Saturday night. And then Adam reminded me that we shop at Wal-mart... and we were there with them... Crap.

Caleb sporting some way-too-expensive-cause-daddy-gets-them-for-free-at-work earplugs.

He was obviously enjoying the race... And so was I.

I just couldn't resist thinking that one of them needed to break away from the same-old same-old and turn right.

To Home From Home Again

On the 2nd of September my siblings, John and Mary, my son, Caleb (Monkey) and I trekked upwards and to the right towards the home of family and long-time friends. The drive took two solid days with one night's stay in a nice, shiny new hotel (thanks to military discounting) in Muskogee, OK (yes, just like the song).



Arrival to the cooler state brought the welcoming arms of family and friends, an excuse to drink coffee and eat sugary carbs in excess, sports such as volleyball, softball and scrabble, and a realization that apparently everyone has a garden except me.



The two week stay swiftly came to an end during which I had tagged along with my sister-in-law, Laura, to her writing class, taken Caleb to watch his first softball game, helped (well, more like watched) my sister-in-law, Bekah, make cinnamon rolls (best in town) and introduced Caleb to his grandma. It was a good visit.



A few realizations during my visit:



1. Caleb goes easily and willingly into the arms of any woman, but is suspicious if not terrified of most men - even ones related.

2. The above mentioned garden fad that I was not aware of.

3. The annoying fact that Caleb defiantly opposes me if I attempt to show him off. For the moment I try to coax some impressive act out of him in front of a crowd of expectant and intrigued onlookers, he plops down and starts drooling. As I'm trying my best to defend him and myself, he's gnawing through one of his shoes.

4. Indiana Farmers are hotter than Texas Cowboys. Though I could still be just a little bitter about not having actually seen a Texas Cowboy yet...

5. Caleb is a drama queen and a neat freak.

6. I miss my hubby a lot when we're apart. Deployments will suck. - That's not actually a new realization but worth noting.

For the more visual ones, here is a photo:

Caleb and me at the Fort Wayne zoo. We went with my husband's brother, Luke, his wife, Bekah and their two boys. Luke is cursed (or blessed, depending) with A.D.D. much like me, but worse, so we made it through the zoo in record time.

I returned to Texas on the 16th via two short plane rides and one agonizingly long one. Though Caleb made it difficult during the flight, the hardest and most nerve racking part was changing planes, scheduled a matter of minutes apart from each other. Having not enough time to strap Caleb into the stroller, I was forced to race across both airports carrying everything in my arms. A backpack clinging to my shoulder by one strap, Caleb, his teddy bear, sippy cup and diaper bag in one hand and the useless umbrella stroller clutched in the other, I ran as fast as my poor choice of attire (a close fitting, knee-length denim skirt) would allow. It was a long, exhausting day with no time for food other than a few snacks, a tired child unable to sleep, and toddler spit-up at the most inconvenient times.

Its good to be home again.

Since We're on the Topic

This is Caleb's new camera face:

I don't know what inspired it or how long it will continue, but I was taking pictures of him last night and every time I told him to smile, this is what would happen:

In Other Caleb Related Events...

A couple of nights ago I was folding clothes and watching a chick flick accompanied only by Caleb. Caleb, apparently uninterested in my choice of film, found his way into the kitchen (which is usually a fairly safe place for him) and preoccupied himself in the pantry shelves. I, feeling quite confident listening with my "mom ears" (which are scientifically proven to be far more advanced than normal ears) heard the crumpling of plastic and knew the little rascal had found the stash of individually wrapped caramels. When I got up to rescue the helpless, sweet treats from this dangerous enemy, this is what I found:

Rather than grabbing for the caramels - I grabbed for the camera. This image was too good to keep to myself.

When I came in he had finally gotten the wrapper off of the poor little morsel and he wasted no time in devouring it. It was a violent demise.

I did manage to save most of the late caramel's companions, however.