Today is the last day of Bill’s vacation from work. It’s been great having him around, because I’ve been able to do things like go to the grocery store…alone. Woo hoo!

After I returned yesterday from a solitary trip shopping for many of the things I need for my September meals, my past-naptime baby greeted me with those tears of joy (“Oh, finally, somebody who can help get me to bed“), and Greta seemed happy that I was home too. I asked Bill how everything went.

Bill: I tried to take the dog for a walk with all the kids.

Me: Really? How far did you go?

Bill: Just out the garage, down the alley, and around the corner.

Me: Oh? Who was losing it?

Bill: Me!

This must be why he always seems to think I need help around the house!

The newest member of our family. When they brought her out, we walked her over to a grassy area and sat down. She put her head in my lap. Bill knew then that she was the one going home with us. She’s about a year old. Already housebroken. Very gentle (completely ignores Petey climbing on her, falling on her, petting her). Not jumpy. These were important traits for us.

We didn’t hear her bark once until this evening. The kids were riding their bikes in the alley with the neighbors. Jenny and Pete were playing Frogger (with themselves in the starring role and the other kids as the cars). I brought Greta out and she was doing fine. But then my neighbor picked Pete up and moved him out of the way of the kids on bikes, and Greta started barking at her. I had to take Greta back into the yard. We guess she just knows her pack, and my neighbor was not part of it. She was fine later with the same neighbor, but Bill was holding the baby then. I’m sure she’ll figure out friend v. foe soon.

Other than that, she’s been alert, eager to please and pretty laid back. But definitely full of energy. I’m sure she’ll fit right in.

1 honeydew melon
1 canteloupe melon
1 package of strawberries
1 (or 2) packages of blueberries
1/2 bunch of red, seedless grapes
1 can pineapple chunks in their own juice

Cut melons in half. Remove seeds and pulp. Using a spoon or melon baller (not a knife), remove the fruit from the skin and place in a large mixing bowl. In the meantime, have your helpers (I’ve got some to spare if you need any) check blueberries for stems and pluck grapes and add them to the bowl. Remove stems from strawberries, quarter, and add to mix. Helpers can mangle a few strawberries as well. Drain pineapple juice into a glass and give to your husband to drink. Add chunks to bowl and have helpers take turns mixing. Cover and refrigerate.

To serve, place a generous helping in a bowl. Feed all the blueberries and some strawberries and grapes to the baby. Give all the rest of the grapes to the toddler. (Do not attempt to give these children their own bowls of fruit. YOUR bowl of fruit tastes much better than THEIR bowl of fruit, and they know it.) Enjoy the melons, pineapples and some strawberries!

Right now, life is happening more quickly than I could possibly write about it.

For example, we went camping on Tuesday and only came back yesterday in time for Fritz’s appointment. Some amusing things happened, as always, but I just don’t have time to write about them. We visited the Luray Caverns, the kids went fishing with Dad, we loved seeing the mountain view every day. It was nice.

Oh, this one I have to remember:

It was Wednesday morning. I got up, brewed the coffee (electric coffee pot, I admit) and lit a fire. I had bacon sizzling and eggs scrambling. I was pretty proud of my acomplishments. I could hear Bill getting up, putting on his clothes. I thought he’d be impressed at what his suburbanite, soccer-mom wife had managed to do in a half hour. He came out of the tent, looked at the scene of domestic outdoor bliss unfolding before his eyes and said,

“You’re still in your pajamas?”

He keeps me humble, that man.

But yes, he was really impressed. So impressed that he was speechless about all those wonderful things. Yeah, that’s the ticket.

*****
Last night, a neighbor called me. Another neighbor had called her. The MPs (Military Police) were going door to door a few streets over and telling people to keep their kids inside, that they were looking for a sexual predator in the area. I called another neighbor and asked if her son (age 11) was inside or out. He was out. I relayed the info.

Later, neighbor #1 called back and said her husband had called the station and that they gave vague answers about how kids should stay in their yards and not talk to strangers, and that they weren’t looking for someone in particular. But neighbor #2 ran an errand and saw a half dozens MPs at the gate near us and at another gate asked if they had caught the person. The guard at the gate said he didn’t know, went and asked another person, returned and said that they hadn’t heard anything on their radio. But he seemed to act as though they were looking for a particular person.

So, Bill’s assignment for today is to get some answers. At issue is and always has been the security of our neighborhood which is just off Route 1 and doesn’t have a fence or other barrier to indicate that it’s a private road. A bit down Route 1 is a homeless shelter which multiple sex offenders have listed as their residence.

Our new neighborhood is just like two other new housing areas on post. All the backyards are surrounded by 5′ tall fences which are easily climbed. Every house has a garage – some are attached (like mine), but most are detached. The other housing areas have had a serious problem with theft – and the MO has been that the thief climbs the fence and enters the garage through an unlocked door. It’s very easy to be careless about an “interior” door. If your garage is detached, the theft is confined to the contents of your garage. If your garage is attached and you also left the door to your house unlocked, the theft could spread to anything in the house.

Until recently, Bill and I theorized that these thefts were likely being done by teenagers who lived on post, likely in the neighborhoods being robbed. But last week, there was an innocent article in our local paper about the K9 unit on post. It was all about the dogs and their training. In the article, it said that a dog was called in for an ongoing breaking and entering the previous week, and the dog chased the scent of the perpetrator to Route 1 which is about a mile from this neighborhood. I think a neighborhood teen would run to another part of post, not to Route 1. But that’s just a guess.

I suppose any neighborhood, on or off post, is potentially dangerous or could attract bad elements. I remember a few years ago there was a rash of B&Es in the town where we lived in NJ. For several months, we followed the police blotter published in the paper to see what streets were hit and gossiped about who had the inside scoop from what cop. But the closest victim was over a mile from my home and the thief hit two or three houses a month. Here, all the victims are within a few miles of my house and the thief (or thieves) are going into 5 or 6 homes all in one night, usually every week.

Did I mention we’ll be getting a dog soon? Seriously. A few weeks ago, we put in to adopt a dog from a German Shepherd rescue. We’re waiting for them to tell us which dog has a good temperment for our family.

*****
And, of course, you must realize that all this focus on a “bad guy” in the neighborhood is meant to be a distraction from the huge weight on my shoulders – Fritz’s biopsy. I get sick to my stomach when I think about it.

Last night, after the kids were asleep, Bill and I talked about it. I had to tell him about the guilt I feel. Does any mother ever not feel responsible for her child’s health – even if it’s unreasonable? There are so many things that bother me.

The doctor pointed out to Bill that you can see how his jaw is bulging. His chin, on his right side, is more pronounced than on his left. You can see it. We didn’t see it. I looked at a photo of him from over a year ago, and I can see it there too. We didn’t see it.

He went to the dentist when he was 4, but I hadn’t taken him since. His teeth are fine. He, and my other kids thus far, are like me. I go to the dentist once every 3 or 4 years. I brush my teeth twice a day. I floss twice a month. And every time, the oral hygenist is shocked at how great my teeth are. But my kids are not me. I should have taken him to the dentist. Maybe they would have seen this sooner.

I will flog myself for the rest of my life over this. Even if he’s fine. Even if it all works out in the end.

But, in all things, I see the hand of God. My wonderful husband, who notices my pajamas and not his breakfast over a campfire, helped me to see it last night. I was in so much need of comfort that he just could not provide. But God, through him, gave it to me.

“We should have been in Fort Leavenworth right now. But we’re not. We’re here, with some of the best doctors in the country.”

I needed to hear that. I needed to know that God is right here actively taking care of us. Yes, Bill’s job stinks. Yes, we should have been enjoying a year in Kansas with loads of free time to do family stuff, and instead he’s working horrible hours. But, no, we needed to be here. Even if it means a tough job for now. Even if it means he doesn’t go to school next year either: both the orthodontist and the oral surgeon have asked “How long will you be in the area?” That’s just not good. But it’s OK. My guilt is not assuaged, but my soul is comforted.

It will be a rough road.

But we’re not alone.

Bill just called on his way home with Fritz from the oral surgeon.

Fritz has a biopsy scheduled for August 21st. Some of the scenarios the docs are mentioning aren’t too pleasant. And these are the scenarios IF the “growth” is benign.

So please say a few prayers for my little guy. And pray for me – I’ve got to be a brave mommy and not show any worry, at least not until I have cause to worry. There’s enough time to do a novena. I think I’ll do one to St. John Neumann whose intercession was ascribed to the healing of a young boy dying of cancer.

And my sister emails me that St. Apollonia is the patron saint of dentists and tooth problems.

Thank you.

At the family picnic on Saturday, Bill got cornered by 4 or 5 aunts and uncles talking theology, specifically women as priests.

Thank goodness they were his aunts and uncles and not mine.

Bill does not consider himself a strong defender of the faith. Like many Catholics, he believes it, but can’t explain it. He found himself alone, and struggling, in trying to explain the Church’s position. He tried to lasso me once for help, but I walked past him, oblivious to his plight.

Now the relatives with whom he argued are not bad people. They just have strong opinions, have reasoned through a few issues that relate to the Church, and have found the Church dreadfully outdated for the 21st century. If you are like me, and have struggled often with this one deadly sin as I have, you will recognize that the issue here is one of pride. After all, how could somebody so intelligent have faulty reasoning? If you get paid big bucks to make decisions that affect thousands of employees and stockholders, it is very difficult to imagine that you might be wrong.

Fortunately, these are not the sort of people who would actually leave the Church because they disagree with a few things. So the line of arguing was more one of “If I were Pope” rather than “The whole Catholic Church is wrong and that’s why I joined the Episcopalians.” Nevertheless, Bill felt that he didn’t do enough to convince them of The Truth.

Finally, Bill managed to get my attention. His dad had joined the discussion, helping Bill, and all but one uncle had moved on to catch up with other relatives. This uncle asked me if I thought women should be priests and was somewhat surprised to hear me say no. He demanded me to defend my position in half sentences of no more than 5 words while being interrupted constantly by his counter arguments. And then he finally declared me “narrow-minded.”

My feathers were not ruffled in the slightest.

In fact, I thought it rather amusing.

Bill, though, was not happy. On the way home we discussed it, and I told him that he can’t expect to see an “Ah-ha!” moment – one where someone finally concedes defeat in an argument and is forever a changed person. In discussions like this, the best you could hope for is to plant a seed and provide enough fertilizer that gives the seed a fighting chance. Germination and growth will occur slowly, and it’s highly unlikely you will ever see the fruit of your labor.

Heck, he was living with me and didn’t see my ah-ha moment.

As for this uncle and this argument, we had a circular discussion. He brought up points which I countered with the same line of reasoning that he couldn’t get around: Jesus ordained only men at the Last Supper; we can not guess His intent, so we can only imitate His actions and do the same; Jesus is God and is not constrained by protocol of His time (as demonstrated by His special treatment of women which drew criticism from others); Jesus taught the Apostles other things not specified in the Bible (that is specifically stated in the Gospels), and the Apostles did not ordain women either. If he’s anything like me, this uncle may spend some time trying to find counterpoints to this line of reasoning. Perhaps he may find some twists in logic to satisfy his soul.

Or perhaps he will follow a path and one day have an “ah-ha” moment like me.

Bill is on leave right now. We spent Friday and Saturday in PA and NJ visiting friends and family.

First order of business: finishing our house in NJ and finding tenants. I think we may have finally gotten some decent tenants…we have a signed lease and check for the security deposit in hand and we’re just waiting for the credit report to hand over the keys and finalize the deal. And we have 2 other people on a wait list if they don’t work out. Thank goodness.

I got to hold two babies – one was 3 months old and the other was 6 weeks old. That was lovely, as was seeing old friends we hadn’t managed to visit in quite a while.

The main purpose of our trip (besides dealing with the house) was a family reunion of sorts in Kearny, NJ. The kids enjoyed the drive up the Turnpike through Newark where you can see the port and the ships unloading at the docks on one side and watch jets land on runways parallel to the highway on the other. And of course there’s the NYC skyline off in the distance. It’s a lot of concrete and asphalt, but still neat.

{My apologies to any city-slickers out there. I prefer rolling hills and bucolic landscapes. You can have your skyscrapers and neon lights.}

Two of Bill’s cousins are expecting babies. That’s wonderful. For a while, I was the only one having any children at all. Bill is the oldest of the grandchildren, so it makes sense that he would be the first married and the first to have kids. But we’ve been lonely waiting for the others to catch up!

Several of Bill’s relatives are teachers. One uncle is a school principal. You can imagine that they haven’t bought into homeschooling as an acceptable alternative to public or parochial school. The principal was asking Billy what 6 plus 2 was, and Billy apparently provided him with a blank stare. I wasn’t around to crack jokes about my teaching qualifications, and of course, my husband in witnessing this felt a bit chagrined that our intelligent son wasn’t being a bit more demonstrative of his abilities, which do happen to include the ability to add 6 and 2.

We’ve had many conversations about our kids not being part of a dog and pony show and about how we don’t want to use them to make us look good. Yes, it would be nice if they could provide a stunning ad lib dissertation on the cause and effects of the current crisis in the Middle East, but that’s just not realistic. So, we get to eat humble pie and hope that one day our kids will manage to be wonderful human beings despite everyone’s fears that our homeschooling will handicap them.

There was also an interesting moment when one uncle called me “narrow-minded,” but I’ll save that for another post. I didn’t mind. I actually felt part of the family!

1. One book that changed your life:

The Story of a Soul by St. Therese of Lisieux

2. One book that you’ve read more than once:

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde by Robert Louis Stevenson (delightfully wicked)

3. One book you’d want on a desert island:

Since Georgie checked out the library’s only copy of Boatmaking for Dummies, I’ll go with U.S. Army Survival Manual FM 21-76.

4. One book that made you laugh:

Any Calvin and Hobbes collection

5. One book that made you cry:

The Age of Innocence by Edith Wharton

6. One book that you wish had been written:

1001 Tricks, Hints and Suggestions for Getting Your Kids to Do Whatever You Need Them to Do Right Away

7. One book that you wish had never been written:

An American Tragedy by Theodore Dreiser – based on a true story about a horrid man who, oh! I don’t want to ruin the plot. It’s an excellent book, and the story haunts me though I read it only once about 14 years ago. Very disturbing.

8. One book you’re currently reading:

Orthodoxy by G. K. Chesterton

9. One book you’ve been meaning to read:

The Four Loves by C. S. Lewis

Your turn! Post in the comment box if you put this on your blog!

It is 2 months and 5 days until the Army Ten Miler. Bill ran last year, and we’re both running this year. His current job affords him very little free time, so he doesn’t get a chance to run much. I’ve been dragging myself out of bed at 415 am so I can run a few miles before he goes to work.

When I first said I would run (many many months ago), Bill said he would run with me…not just run the race at the same time, but run right there next to me. I thought that was really sweet. But I told him it was ridiculous, since the best I could do was a 12 minute mile, and I would just hold him back. I’m now doing about a 10 minute mile, and I’m confident I’ll be able to keep up with him. There are days I even dare ask him who will be keeping whom back?

I have to watch that, though. He’s awfully competitive. Yes, he’s very supportive and loving, but if I were to get just a bit too cocky, he’d leave me in the dust and laugh about it. I’d be laughing too: at his competitiveness.

I’ve never run in a race before. I’ve never run 10 miles before. I ran 8 miles back in June, but then I hurt my foot and I’ve only gotten back up to 5 miles last Saturday. Weekdays, I do 2 or 3 miles and it hurts a little.

Bill has told me that my competitive side will come out in the race. That I will find myself running a faster pace than a 10 minute mile. That I will be pushing myself harder than I ever have before. Perhaps. It might be hard not to, since I’ll have him there next to me saying, “See that lady up there…the one in the white shirt? We’re going to pass her…come on!” And off he’ll go.

I may not care too much about the lady in the white shirt, but I am competitive with him. Just him. Every now and then, we play Scrabble. He beats the pants off me. By hundreds of points. I was a National Merit Scholarship recipient…he barely graduated high school. He doesn’t know how he made it through college…I had the highest GPA within my major of my graduating class.

In all fairness to his intelligence, I must say that he is the smartest man I know. I hate to admit it, and often will not admit it to him, but I even think he’s smarter than I am! But the grades he got in high school and college reflect a mental laziness that drives me insane!

A few days ago he told me that he had been assigned to a team at work for the Ten Miler.

“You’re on a team?”

“Yes, they had the Fun Runners and the Rum Runners.”

“You’re on the Rum Runners, right?” (pause) “What’s the difference?”

“One is the slow team and one is the fast team…the Fun Runners is the slow team and the Rum Runners is the fast team.”

“The Rum Runners is the fast team? I’d have thought they’d be slow…as in I’m hung over or still drunk.” (pause) “Wait…you’re on the fast team?”

“Yeah, go figure.”

But he’ll do fine. I run as many days a week as I can, and I’ll manage to finish the race. He rarely runs and will finish right there next to me. I got the good grades in school, but he spanks me in Scrabble.

It reminds me of the parable about the workers in the vineyard. Everybody gets the same reward at the end, whether they worked all day or only for one hour. I completely understand the complaints of those who labored all day long. It hardly seems fair. But I know it is fair.

I was in the midst of writing an entry about my frustrations with potty training my almost three year old when I got this group email from my friend Kim:

Onto another subject… for families of soldiers serving in Afghanistan.

My husband is with Oregon’s 41st Brigade Combat Team. He is an embedded team trainer with the Afghan National Army. I don’t know much about what they do or why they are really in Afghanistan. You can never believe what CNN has to say or take the word of your opinionated neighbor… and then, I was introduced to journalist Scott Kesterson. He is the embedded reporter with my husband serving in Kandahar.

Scott Kesterson and his blog have created an outstanding service for our US National Guard soldiers in explaining their misssion and depicting exactly what they do and why they are doing it. I have followed Scott’s progress from training in Mississippi to the front lines of Afghanistan. You feel as though you are living a moment with the soldiers and, finally, understand their tribulations.

Scott’s stories are from our soldier’s viewpoint. I now understand more about my husband’s mission, the Afghan people and their country’s cry for freedom. Not only does this site take you on life threatening journeys, it also has incredible photos and video that paint surreal images for our families. I know this has brought me closer to my husband. This blogsite has brought me closer to my husband and his experiences – of which, thankfully, I will never have to endure.

When you have time, please visit this site: http://beloblog.com/KGW_Blogs/afghanistan/

And so I will ignore my petty griping for a bit, see what Perry is up to these days, and say a prayer for everyone’s safe and speedy return home.