This week’s stress…

…brought to us by the New York Times.

In Army’s Trauma Care Units, Feeling Warehoused

This article is very one-sided and does not do justice to the services, programs and care being provided by Warrior Transition Units. Note that the article discusses a unit very similar to my husband’s unit. We are hoping that it brings more attention to Wounded Warriors and assists in a dialogue that will benefit them. Unfortunately, the negative tone invites defensiveness instead of positive action. Perhaps other media will follow up with a more open-minded look at these units and recognize the Herculean energy being expended in taking care of and advocating for our Warriors.

Coffee and Morons

Yesterday, I got up at 4 am and started the drive from Savannah to Atlanta at 440 am. I was tired. Driving when it is dark and even the birds are still sleeping is difficult to do without assistance. Of course, I had coffee. But I have found long drives require more than just caffeine to keep me alert.

The best thing to make me forget my warm cozy bed is good conversation. Unfortunately, this was a solo flight. The next best thing to having a good conversation is listening to someone else’s good conversation. Talk radio generally has plentiful discussions, many of them which can get your blood boiling. I scanned the airwaves. I heard stations from Chicago, Des Moines, Cincinnati, Charlotte and New Orleans. Sports stations. No help.

I finally gave up on Talk Radio and turned to the FM stations. If you can’t talk, and there’s nothing to listen to, good music is a good alternative. I found a station whose tag line was “Songs You Love to Sing Along.” Perfect. After Low Rider, they cut to commercials…and then static. Back to scanning.

Finally in the Atlanta metro area, I started listening to some morning shows. I hate morning shows. The first one lost me when they started guffawing about farts. I guess their audience is in the 10 to 14 year old age range (mentally). Of course the reason I hate most morning shows is that this tends to be how they are anyway.

{Classical music stations all have hosts with calm, soothing voices. There may be some bantering with the traffic guy or the weather gal, but for the most part, they play the music which is all the entertainment the audience wants anyway. Since most people listen to radio other than classical, I wonder if people really do want juvenile jokes and inane babble for their drive into the office.}

The show that got me on the last leg of the drive did have an amusing Cajun dialogue that made me laugh on the punchline. And I heard the weather forecast for the weekend. I don’t think I heard any music. The traffic report didn’t mean anything to me, since I don’t know the roads. And then there was the 3 minute pre-recorded monologue.

Mr. Monologue sounded like he was in his 50’s or 60’s. He said he had heard people complaining about taxes, and complaining that the government was taking away their rights. He said we pay federal, state, local and county taxes. He said we get certain benefits from these taxes (roads, etc). He suggested we think about how these governments take away our “rights.” He listed as many ways as he could think of that the government affected our daily life: we have to obey traffic laws; we have to get a driver’s license; we have to get our dog vaccinated. And that was about it. His point: what are we complaining about? We are free; this is a great country; the government is looking out for our best interests; stop the moaning.

My retort: Old Man, have you been living under a rock? Please stay home on election day.

On that last leg of my journey, I was alert and ready for action. Increased blood pressure is a wonderful thing.

Burning questions

Anybody going to the Laura Berquist workshop this Friday at the CHS Catholic Homeschool Conference? I’ll be there, although I’m doubting my sanity after I saw how far away it really is. And that I’ll hit Atlanta at rush hour (and I’ll need to get to the other side). Good thing I have Jersey plates on my car (and a smashed taillight to show you shouldn’t mess with me).

Now. Serious question. Does anybody know how to prevent spiral bound books from becoming unspired? Over time and lots of flipping, the spiral is getting unwound on my many school references and checklists. This.drives.me.nuts. Suggestions? They are mostly plastic, so I can’t kink the ends. Surely there exists somebody who had gotten more annoyed than I and had figured out a way to prevent that. I spend all day rewinding the spires (really, no hyperbole at all).

My personality

Congratulations to Amanda at Whimsically Plucky who was the only person to guess that I was an F and also happened to get the other letters correct as well. The practical example we were given for determining T or F was: “If a friend calls and says she’s having a crisis, what do you do?” T’s will ask lots of questions and decide the best course of action. F’s will rush over immediately. Last month, I was on the phone with my neighbor and friend when she dropped the phone crying out her toddler son’s name. “Help me, Michelle,” she said. I waited for a bit, uncertain what to do. “Call 911,” she finally managed. I immediately did so, and gave all the information I could. And then what? I rushed right over – on foot – even though the tenth of a mile or so would be faster traveled by car. This is an F knee-jerk reaction.

BTW, the toddler had a seizure brought on by a fever. He’s fine. You see how I have to reassure you? That’s my F-ness, too.

My complete personality type is an INFP: Idealistic, loyal to their values and to people who are important to them. Want an external life that is congruent with their values. Curious, quick to see possibilities, can be catalysts for implementing ideas. Seek to understand people and to help them fulfill their potential. Adaptable, flexible, and accepting unless a value is threatened.

Interesting that only Amanda and Barbara got the P part right. I’m not a J, believe it or not. I was, in fact, the only P in my small group. The facilitator asked what we had done to get ready for the trip to Kansas. J’s will strive to take care of every little thing well in advance. Now, I did have to do some prep work. One cannot just up and leave 6 children at home without making plans. However, when it came to things that affected only myself – for example: packing – I was not as premeditative. One woman in my group started packing a week before. I packed an hour before we left for the airport. My husband, who is my complete opposite (an ESTJ), also packed an hour before we left, because he had not had time beforehand. The difference? This really bugged him, but I cared not one whit. Did we leave things behind? Yes, but nothing truly important.

Learning about the Meyers-Briggs personalities with moderators who understand the types is very helpful. I learned much about my personality, my husband’s personality, how we work together, and how we function under stress. Interesting to note that, when under stress, we actually tend to behave in ways characteristic of our opposite type. The thinking types will get overly emotional. Spontaneous people will cling to schedules. Based on the test taken at 10 pm the night before, I actually came up an ISTP, almost an ISTJ. My personality has not changed from my high school and college days when I was an INFP. Rather, the answers that swayed my results demonstrated the lingering effects of the deployment, our 900 mile move, and my current stresses about finishing the school year and dealing with new people, places and responsibilities.

Also, the results I got as a young adult were more valid than those I would get now anyway. Over time, we develop behaviors that are successful. We get burnt by Friend A’s constant problems and learn to step back. We know if we don’t make a list, we will over spend or not be able to have the dinner we want this week. Had I left my mother with 6 children and an empty fridge, I doubt she would be happy to ever help me out again.

So, Amanda, congratulations again on a good guess or an astute awareness. Email me your address so I can get some yummy chocolate out to you. Let me know if you have a preference for milk or dark.

And I’d love to hear everybody else’s personality types.

Why my husband is sleeping on the couch

Regarding my “hysteria” yesterday that caused me to run over a mailbox and “destroy” a car (replacement part purchased on eBay for less than $35 including S&H), Bill called my “driving under the influence of emotions” or DUIE as I like to call it, a…

sub neurological disorder related to the uterus

…and now he’s quoting me Greek derivatives for hysterical – of or relating to the womb…

…and now I am going to my bed…

…and he is not.

The high cost of bacon

When we arrived home yesterday, Mary was napping. I really had to restrain myself from waking her up right away. Later, I decided to run to the grocery store for a few items, and wanted to be sure to be home before she awoke.

I went. I shopped. I came home and put the freezer stuff in the freezer in the garage and hauled half the remaining bags to the kitchen. Mary was still sleeping. Good.

As I unloaded the bags and Bill went out for the few I couldn’t carry, I realized I didn’t have the bacon. Billy likes bacon, and we didn’t have any last weekend. I made sure to pick up bacon at the store, but it wasn’t in the bags, not even in the ones Bill brought in. Flustered and annoyed and worried that I’d not be home when Mary woke up, I hurried back to the store, which is right across the street from my neighborhood.

I cannot drive when I’m flustered and annoyed and worried. I just can’t. So as I backed out of the drive, I backed into our mailbox, spinning it 45 degrees, and smashing the taillight on the driver side (and let’s not talk about the scratch on the rear quarter panel, ok?). Now I was even more flustered and annoyed and worried, but I trudged on to the store. The man at the customer service counter walked with me over to the appropriate cashier who remembered me (I should hope so – I had left there about 15 minutes prior).

She had bagged the bacon with some other items that went straight into the freezer, bag and all. My bacon was at home and had been all along.

Now I was flustered and annoyed and worried and really really angry at myself, but I managed to drive home without killing myself or others or destroying more property.

And Mary was still asleep. And my husband, who has to clean up my mess, was very forgiving (imagine the scene where the sinful woman is weeping at Jesus’ feet, only my hair is shorter and my husband had shoes on).

And we had bacon for breakfast.

Highlights

Today is our last full day here. It has been very busy, and not very restful, but that’s OK.

I DO miss the kids. But not terribly. They sound so cute and sweet on the phone, and I can’t wait to see them again. But I’m not dying without them. This is a good sign for my marriage. If Bill weren’t here, I am certain I would not be so content.

I have enjoyed sitting next to my husband in some of the classes. I have really enjoyed passing notes to him during the talks. During one talk on Trauma (death, loss, illness and other cheerful topics), I was sniffling. He wrote, “You’re too empathetic.” I responded, “You are invalidating my emotions.” If you’ve ever done a marriage retreat or read marriage help books, you might understand why we both thought that was very funny.

I have enjoyed going for a run/walk with my husband most mornings. Eastern Kansas is very hilly, but where I currently live is very flat. My shins do not enjoy the terrain, nor do they think wearing heels and briskly walking to and from class (about a half mile) is a good idea. But it’s nice being with Bill.

I have enjoyed being at Leavenworth, especially in the spring. This is a beautiful campus, and we have many happy memories here. We have talked about returning here, maybe in a few years, maybe doing the “twilight tour” as they call that last job you have before you retire. We shall see.

I have enjoyed eating meals with my husband. Without interruption. Without having to hurry up before there is a meltdown in a restaurant. Without having to gear some or all of our conversation around or away from topics that the children may or may not hear.

It has been a good week. I hope it is not another decade before we do this again.

Flowers and chocolate

The first thing Bill and I did when we got on post Sunday night was to drive past our old house to see if the tulips were still there. They were, to my joy.

After class today, I suggested we walk down the street to see an old neighbor. I might stop by our old house to see if the residents are enjoying their blooms.

This school is keeping us busy, but the information is great. I’m glad I have come. But, of all the best laid plans, the girl I lined up to watch my younger children while my mom took the boys to baseball blew me off. I’m trying not to be really angry.

I owe my mom big time, too. I’ll have to send her for a facial or a pedicure or something. She’ll probably be happy just to go home.

Somewhat guiltily I confessed to my husband that I don’t miss the kids. Not yet. Maybe it’s because I’m so busy. If I were sitting on a beach with nothing to do, I might pine for them. But for now, I’m just enjoying going for a run (walk) with my husband and having periods of quiet. No interruptions. No crying. No bottoms that need to be wiped.

Today we’re doing Myers-Briggs personality tests. Guess my type and the person who gets closest will win some Godiva chocolate. Since I’m not home, I’ll keep this offer open until Sunday the 18th. If there are multiple people who get it right, I’ll do a drawing.

Camp Grandma

I am at an airport – alone. (Excepting, of course, thousands of strangers).

I have just kissed my husband goodbye at the gate for yet another week away from home courtesy of the US Army.

I am now sitting at another gate waiting for my flight to the same place. I get to go to school too. We just couldn’t get on the same flight there, but we’ll arrive at the same time.

One week without my children. The longest I have ever been without one or more of my children is 24 hours, and that was over 10 years ago and Bill wasn’t with me.

I’m sure I’ll be fine.

Pray for my mother!

Pray for my children. I told them to pretend it was summer camp: Mrs. Moore’s Boarding Camp for Prim and Proper Young Ladies and Gentlemen. When I was in kindergarten, my new classmates were discussing where they had attended preschool. I had no idea what they were talking about, because I was “homeschooled” for preschool. I asked my mom where I had gone to preschool and she told me Mrs. Moore’s Boarding School. I was quite old before I got her joke.

I am certain my older 4 will have a great time. I just hope the younger two don’t exhaust my mom.

Oh, and where is the Army sending us? My fabulous week long getaway will be to Fort Leavenworth, Kansas. Hooah. But as my sister pointed out, I already live in a resort-like place, so I shouldn’t complain about spending a week near the Federal Penitentiary. And as one of my husband’s coworkers mentioned, if it’s a week without children, it could be spent in the garage and still be great.

Snapshots

Sometimes, ignoring the full story is a good thing.

I will forget about the heavy toddler who woke up after communion and said immediately, “I want to go home.” Instead, I will remember the big cathedral bells ringing at the moment of consecration.

I will forget about the 90 minutes or more of waiting in the confessional line (half before and half after Mass) , and instead remember the soloist for the wedding that was about to start singing “Ave Maria” at the moment of absolution.

I will forget about the ice cream shop stop after Mass where the store was down to only 8 flavors (the least popular ones, of course), and instead remember the Mom-of-5 greeting this Mom-of-6 and within 60 seconds learning that we also had homeschooling and military husbands in common.

I will forget about the kids who seem to have trouble going to sleep at night, and remember the hugs and kisses.