The Thor Update

Hey, y'all -

It's been an overwhelmingly busy time around here since - oh - Valentine's Day and one of these days I'll get around to catching everyone up on what's been happening on the home front. But it seems like what most people want is an update on how your dad is doing, so here's the story on that:

Because your dad's the kind of guy who can't JUST go to the other side of the planet and work a strategically imperative job around the clock, he's using whatever down time he has to build a Rec Room inside the hangar. Seems there are piles of plywood just laying around, so your dad took it upon himself to launch a new construction project.

He's working on the "It's easier to get forgiveness than permission" principle, and so far no one has come by to tell him to stop. Army bases aren't really known for their building inspectors. 

He's moved in some fitness equipment and a TV and has scrounged up some furniture that should be coming in, too. He's just so damn productive. 

His living conditions are...okay. 

He moved to a slightly bigger side of the divided room, and it may or may not be slightly bigger because when no one was looking, he may have taken it upon himself to use his drill to move the plywood partition allegedly back a few feet. 

We can't complain because I'm sure if he were a young infantry guy vs a Navy officer, he'd be sharing this room with three other dudes. 

So far, his biggest complaint (at least that he shares with us) is about the food. They haven't had fresh produce in a while, and currently the only thing on the salad bar is pudding. Sometimes, they even run out of plates. Lately, they've been serving a lot of hot dogs. I have become the Queen Of The Care Package, because no one is eating suspicious hot dogs on my watch. Granny Jack has been great about starting a little unofficial "Thor fund" so every time your dad thinks of something he needs (like protein that isn't so sketchy) we can send it right off.

He does have wifi in his room (although they make military members purchase their own internet if they want to have it in their room, which I think is despicable). We get to talk to him every day. Your dad's time zone is 11.5 hours ahead of Montana, which means we're always on opposite sides of the clock, and typically tell him "Good Morning!" as we're heading off to bed. 

Speaking of:

HOW TO CONTACT THOR - A GUIDE FOR FRIENDS AND FAMILY.

E-MAIL / TEXT - All of Thor's web-based applications work on his iPhone. You can text him or e-mail him at his normal contact info and it'll go right through. Phone calls don't work. He has Skype. If you're a friend/family member and you don't have any of that contact info, let me know. 

MAIL - Mail seems to be taking 11-14 days to get there, which is pretty great considering how far it has to travel. I sent his address to all the friends and family I could think of as soon as I got it, but in case I missed you and you want to send him a card or something, let me know and I'll send you the address. (Operational security and common sense prohibit me from posting it here.)

If you want to send a letter or card, great - those just require a normal postage stamp and can be dropped in the mail like anything else. 

If there's an item you want to send him, it's usually easiest to order from Amazon Prime or Target. Both ship free to APO addresses, and you don't have to mess with your own customs form. 

If you want to send your own package, it gets a little more tricky. You can pack it in your own packaging and ship via the post office, and they'll charge you normal domestic postage rates (One day, I might run the world and there will be a slashed-rate box for military, but right now, one doesn't exist.) USPS does offer a $2 discount on the Large Flat Rate Box, which comes in two sizes. I am a zen master of cramming more stuff in one of those boxes than ought to be possible...each box I pack is on the Russian nesting doll system because I WILL get the most out of that $17 box, and if I had understood spatial geometry this well in 9th grade, my life would have been way easier. I pack everything in its own Ziploc, partially to avoid spillage but also because no one wants their crackers tasking like their deodorant. 

USPS boxes require you to fill out a customs form which they have available at the post office, or if you want to holler at me, I can fill one out for you online and send it to you to print. 

Right now, we have lots of options in terms of snacks we can send, because it's cold in Montana and equally cold in Afghanistan. Starting around May, it's going to get hot as the devil over there, and we can no longer ship chocolate or anything that could melt. 

We've gotten your dad a mini coffee maker, and an Amazon subscription to nice Italian coffee and those mini half and half cups like you see in diners.  Seems to have turned his life around. 

Let me know if I'm leaving anything out. 

Thanks to everyone who has been checking in with us, or asking how you can help. We're holding up really well, I think, considering, but some days are definitely easier than others. Keeping our eye on the countdown:

 Love,

Mom

The Grand Tour

Hey, y'all - 

Your dad has finally made it to his destination. For about a week there, I was completely on edge because he couldn't contact us and we couldn't be sure where he was as he traveled between locations. Then I got a copy of a Navy spouse newsletter (published by Debbie Downer Press) that instructed me if I really needed to get in touch with your dad, I would need to go through the Red Cross. Nothing like learning that if you want to get in touch with your spouse, you'll need the help of an NGO.

But, good news! He's made it to his base and moved in to his accommodations and he received all of the care packages we shipped...containing items like high thread-count sheets and firm pillows, because he may be deployed, but that doesn't mean he has to live like an animal. Amazon and Target both ship directly to rural Afghanistan. As your dad is fond of saying, "War ain't what it used to be."

He sent us this little video of his room:

Next week, I'll be pitching HGTV a new show called Barracks Flip.

Love,
Mom

With Love From The Second Grade

Dear Laney,

Your teacher - because she is a saint - decided it would be a fun project to have your class write letters to your dad.  You brought them all home in a folder earlier this week and they are sweet and lovely and hilarious.

This was your letter:

OK, the "Hagen does not know that you are gone," is a little mean, because it's totally not true. 

Anymore. 

Then, you drew a picture of the two of us, smiling and holding hands and marching into the future with confidence, as Hagen wanders around in the background, wondering, "Ware is Dad?"

Poor Hagen. We need to hire him a publicist because he is being unfairly represented in the media:

You have a new kid in your class from some unspecified country in the Middle East (you can't seem to remember). Ermias doesn't speak English, and you have volunteered to be his helper buddy as he gets used to the school. You explained to me that you and Ermias have worked out a system where he points to the swing and then points to you and then you push him on the swing through recess. If that's not the sweetest thing I've heard all week, I don't know what is. As a thanks for your friendship, he drew this picture of (I'm guessing) your dad riding a manatee. This is actually a pretty good artistic representation of your dad's toes.

Sawyer here is very encouraging, with his "I hope you have a great time and don't get fired." Interesting to see where Sawyer's head's at.

And then there's Hollis, whose letter and photo are more about the fun of sleepovers than anything else. 

It is not true that Laney can bike without her hands, but it IS true that she's a foot shorter than Hollis:

No idea who wrote this one, but I like that s/he addressed it to "Mr. Thor," and attempted to write, "I appreciate all your work."

"Dear Thor, Thank you for working for the USA. I like sledding and watermelon and my name is Addisyn, Laney's friend."

Several of the kids wrote variations on "I hope you're having a great time!" which suggests they may be confusing Afghanistan with Panama City. 

Probably for the best.

Alex (who we all remember as your first grade crush) wrote a lovely note about how he likes to play with Legos.

Everything is Funny and Weird And Cool:

Miranda submitted the most literal book report ever:

I can't wait for your dad to get these in the mail. I hope he enjoys them half as much as I do.

Love,
Mom

The Art Of Showing Up

Hey, y'all.

Lest everyone think that we're breezing through this deployment without a care in the world, let me assure you: It's the hardest thing I've ever done, and we're only 29 days in. I cry a lot, because I miss your dad and because I'm just overwhelmed in every way a person can be. I try to remind myself that I have it pretty good, comparatively. I'm not 25 years old, pregnant, married to an infantry guy and living on a base where I don't know anyone. I don't know how those spouses make it. God bless them, truly.

You two have been exceptional so far, and I'm not just saying that because I'm your mother and it's my job to be your number one fan.

Last Saturday was a great example of a day in the life of this deployment:

Laney, we'd had your good friend Hollis over for a sleepover on Friday night, which seemed to boost your spirits. You two woke up on Saturday morning and decided to open a restaurant in our kitchen - The LaHolly Cafe. I was allowed to bring a date, so I chose your brother (as he was the only other person in the house, but also because he's so handsome). You made menus, and I applauded your decision to offer adults wine and beer at 7:30am. Hagen liked that we were offered a bowl of chips when we sat down.

Management at LaHolly Cafe has a few kinks to iron out - like if you want cheesy eggs, you have to make them yourself and also make a side order for the restaurant employees - but I've noted these things on my Yelp review, and I'm sure they're being taken into consideration.

I thought about how it stinks that your dad is missing out on stuff like this, and it made me a little weepy. Then, I opened our front door and discovered that it had snowed six inches overnight. Your dad will barrel through anything in the Subaru, but I don't share his appreciation for "When in doubt, peel out." I felt absolutely trapped, and a little hopeless, and went back to doing laundry. (Side note: nothing compounds depression like laundry.)

About an hour later, there was a knock at our door and I opened it, surprised to find Greg, Ms. Correy's husband. He said, "I just shoveled your car out. Let me know if you need anything else!"  I nodded and thanked him and thought, "If this man tries to hug me right now, I will absolutely start sobbing in my driveway."

I checked my e-mail, and found the joke of the day from dear friend Clay Mercer. Even though he's 2,300 miles away, he's found a way to make me feel less alone by e-mailing me every single morning without fail a (usually absolutely terrible) joke with a little pep talk sometimes thrown in on the side. He says he's going to send me one every day until your dad gets back. Because they're G-rated, I've been copying them on slips of paper and putting them in Laney's lunchbox so she can share them with her class. It's a nice little bit of positive energy.

I also got an e-mail from Granny Jack who said she was impressed by how well I was doing with you two. That perked me up, too, because any time you're trying to do the job of two parents, you're bound to think you're mucking it all up. Someone telling you you're doing something right can turn your day around.

Then my friend Julie invited us over for a potluck dinner and movies, because she knows it's not good for us to be alone all the time.

What I'm learning is that the best friends in the world are the ones who find ways to be there for you without being asked. They just show up. Whether it's giggling all night at a sleepover and opening a faux cafe to take your mind off your dad being gone, or shoveling a friend's car out or even e-mailing the kind of joke that would be at home on a popsicle wrapper...it's the folks who have mastered the art of showing up that are going to get us through this.






Love,
Mom

Top Chef

Dear Laney,

You LOVE the show Top Chef. 

We have a new tradition on Thursdays now where Grandma Sue comes over for dinner and the grown-ups have some wine and watch Top Chef, and while the show is on, you run to the kitchen and prepare your own competitive dishes in real time. Sometimes, I make up challenges and give you parameters: "This is a presentation challenge, so I will be judging you on your knife skills and your overall use of color and design!" That'll usually keep you busy through two commercial breaks. 

Sue and I try not to pay too much attention to the chaos in the kitchen - we ignore our impulse to see what you're cooking in the microwave or investigate why you've gotten 18 condiments out of the fridge. Sometimes, the best thing you can do for a kid is let them try new things and make a huge mess and learn from it. 

A few weeks ago, you learned that you could smoosh a flour tortillla into a dessert bowl, fill it with cheese and hot sauce and nuke the hell out of it in the microwave, and it would come out a semi-hard dome. Then you topped it with honey and a potentially poisonous leaf from one of my house plants. We rated this one surprisingly tasty and you were allowed to remain in the competition vs having to pack your knives and go. Also, no one got sick, and that's always a nice bonus. 

Speaking of knives, I gave you a knife skills challenge, and you made this interesting plate-on-plate presentation with a purely decorative nest of shredded napkin, coddling four old grapes. I bet some chef in LA is angry they didn't think of this first. Here, we learned that peppers on cucumbers is a delightful combination. 

Tonight, it was a burrito (lots of your creations are tortilla-based) stuffed with graham cracker crumbs and honey, then coated in Nutella and sprinkled with M&Ms. Your brother Hagen declared you "The best chef EVER!" for this one. 

Keep doing what you're doing, and I'll keep loading a full dishwasher on Friday mornings. 

Worth it. 

Love,

Mom

Junior Scrambler

Laney,

Your first rock-climbing class was yesterday at the Y. I didn't want to seem like one of those weird, hovering moms, so instead of hanging out by the door to the class, I went upstairs to the workout area, hid behind a treadmill and literally hovered over you.

Your dad and I are hoping you fall in love with a sport like this one, because it can be such a confidence-booster. Middle school is so tough, (especially for girls, I think) and if some mean girl in 8th grade teases you for not wearing the right cool outfit, knowing that you can scale a mountain all by yourself might give you the perspective required to tell that girl to kiss your grits. 

Climb every mountain, 

Ford every stream,

Follow every rainbow,

'Til you find your dream.

                           -The Sound of Music.

Love,

Mom

The Best Friend You'll Ever Have

The Great Christmas Tree Burning of 2017

Hey, y'all -

Just in case you think the southern states of America have cornered the market on "Hold My Beer and Watch This," our friend Ms Julie submits for your consideration her annual backyard Christmas Tree Burning Party. The event is held every year in mid-January, when everyone's tree has become a sad, brown dehydrated mess that would invalidate their homeowner's insurance.

A prize is awarded for the fastest-burning tree, which can usually be measured in seconds. Assuming you stay far enough back and observe common sense safety rules, it's a HOOT.

Hagen loved it, mostly because it gave him a chance to sit in my lap and sing the dramatic finale of Moana, which is all about a misunderstood lava monster.

So cool.

Love,
Mom

Making Do With Mom

Hey, y'all -

It's no secret that your dad is the outdoorsy one, who knows how to do stuff. Which gear to pack, how to get it there, how to best manage two children and a wife in the wilderness...those are all the domain of your dad. He could make an emergency shelter out of two toothpicks and a ziploc bag.

But we can't just sit on the couch and wait for him to come home, because we'll go bonkers.  Instead, we're loading up and getting out there...

...even if I sometimes usually don't know what the hell I'm doing. 

Laney wanted to try rock climbing. So I took her to the Y where we suited up and gave it a try, even though we learned that their safety helmets were designed for tiny little alpine people and not enormous Lee noggins. I might as well be wearing a plastic yarmulke. 

It was not for me. ("This is why God invented stairs!") But Laney loved it and has since signed up for the Junior Scramblers team so that professional people who don't mind when their butts are dangling over a gravel pit can teach her the ropes. 

Then, there's cross-country skiing. Laney loves it. Laney's friend Abby loves it. They love exploring together and falling down on purpose which is the kind of thing you do before you learn what a deductible is. 

The challenge was Hagen. What to do with Hagen... Because Hagen is sho 'nuff not going to ski. And if we let him hike, he'd have to stop so many times to talk about Pokemon, we'd never make it out of the parking lot. 

I got crafty and figured out that if I put the skijoring harness (OF COURSE your dad owns one) around my waist backwards, I could hook it with a dog leash to Hagen's little plastic sled and tow him behind me while I ski. 

 

Hagen seems good with this set-up, because he can ride and talk and lie down and pretend to be somewhere else when he decides he's sick of the great outdoors. 

Yes, these overalls are ludicrous and huge and tacky and my friends tease me about them. They're also waterproof and quilted and the closest thing I can find to wearing a bedspread. They're here for the long haul. 

And so am I. 

Love,

Mom