The Things That Carried Me: Part One

Hey, y'all - 

No two ways about it: This deployment stinks. Some days are better than others, so while I have some free time today, I thought I'd give thanks to some of the people who have made it a little more bearable.

Part One: My parents. 

Peg and Tex came to visit us in March. They flew into Spokane and we spent a few days exploring the downtown area, and going to the Discovery Museum. 

^ This is when Peg Peg held up the X-ray in the pretend vet clinic and said, "Looks like your dog's leg was shattered when he was hit by that truck, and I can't guarantee he'll make it," and I was reminded that it's not always the best idea to play Let's-pretend medical clinic with a real-life nurse. They won't sugarcoat your hypothetical dog's imaginary condition. 

Their timing was perfect on this trip, because some girlfriends and I had tickets to see Eric Church in concert in Spokane, and your grandparents were able to babysit you at the hotel so I could go to the show. On St. Patrick's Day. 

Y'all. I am not proud of my behavior that night, but here's a life lesson to tuck away in your back pocket for when you're of legal age:

IF you're going out with your friends to a country concert on St. Patrick's Day and there's even the remote possibility that you will imbibe more than your share, try NOT to promise your children on the way out the door that you will take them to Chuck E. Cheese's the next morning. Because boy will that come back to haunt you. 

...but here is why - even with the headache and the blinking lights and the hell of other people's children, I still laugh every time I think about this trip to Chuck E Cheese's:

My mama will tell you she hates that place. It's just a petri dish with pizza, etc. etc. But I bought $20 in tokens, and divided them up in cups for each of you to have an equal share. I asked Peg Peg to hold Hagen's cup of tokens for a second because he seemed to be content to crawl around in the play structure. I thought I heard Peg Peg say, "Laney, let's try skee ball" as they walked away. Fifteen minutes later, Hagen was tired of the slide and we went in search of his grandparents with the tokens. We found Peg Peg by the skee ball machine, draped in a paper boa of hundreds of prize tickets, holding an empty token cup. "Things just got out of hand," she said. Indeed. 

We drove them back to Missoula, and stopped on the way at what passes for an authentic Mexican restaurant in northern Idaho. 

Like all southerners, Peg Peg gets cold the second she gets north of Nashville or west of Amarillo, so she had to warm her hands in the steam of her fajitas. 

Back home, they helped me with all kinds of house projects (remind me to do a before and after house post later) and tackled some of the things I'd been putting off for years. For example, I have a big basket in the corner of my bedroom I call "Brooke's Home For Wayward Socks" that I stuff with all the solo socks that come out of the dryer. Peg Peg actually dumped that thing out and sorted it. 

Even with all the domestic projects, Peg Peg and Laney still found time to go shopping. I don't know which one of y'all is worse, but it's so nice when you each have someone to enable:

Towards the end of their visit, we took your grandparents to a kid's birthday party.

It was nice that Peg Peg was on hand to console Hagen about his questionable pinata skills. 

Because I work from home, with your dad gone I can go days without having a real conversation with another grown-up. Just having the folks around to talk to was a huge help.

...and the 128 pairs of socks Peg Peg put together is nothing to sneeze at. 

Thanks for coming and perking us up!

Love,

Mom

The Thor Update

Hello, all -

Here's the latest on old Thor:

He's holding up really well, considering. He seems to be in good spirits about 80% of the time, and the rest of the time I'm sure the reality of sitting in a plywood box on the other side of the world gets to him.

We've sent him so many care packages that he's asked me to go on hiatus because he's run out of storage space. The German base is somehow able to figure out how to provide fresh fruits and vegetables, and the American side is still pushing the kind of food you'd get at the state fair. I've sent soup and oatmeal and tortillas and peanut butter and muffins-in-a-cup. I figured out how to send milk and cereal. He could probably open his own 7-11 there. I've become a little addicted to Amazon Subscriptions, because I can sign him up to receive a package of the stuff he loves monthly and then forget about it. Then I can honestly say, "But Thor! I didn't send you another package! AMAZON did!" (those pesky bastards). Thanks again to Granny Jack and Randall for their Thor Fund donations.

Laney's class once again wrote letters to Thor this week, and they were hilarious as always. One girl in Laney's class wrote "I hope you survive!" and then decorated it with smiley faces and rainbows. It was a reeaaalll mixed message. 

This one, of course, was the tear-jerker:

Thor and I decided it would be fun to make a little video for the kids to say thank you for the letters and to answer some of their questions. So this morning, I interviewed him on Skype and then cut together this clip. Hope you enjoy:

Love,

Brooke

Some People Call Me The Space Cowboy. Some Call me The Gangster of Love.

Dear Hagen,

No doubt about it - you're the Joker.

Here are three recent favorites:

What do ghosts wash their hair with?
Shamboo!

Video submitted by your teacher:
Why can't you give Elsa a balloon?
Because she'll Let It Go!

Joke provided by Clay Mercer:
What do you get when you cross an elephant and a rhino?
Elephino! 

Finley's Fifth

Hey, y'all - 

Much to catch up on. I know. Allow me to ease into this. 

With your dad gone, I'm of course missing my better half but most of all, I'm missing SOMEBODY ELSE TO DRIVE YOU YOUNG'UNS EVERYWHERE. Y'all, I can't overstate how much I hate driving. I have threatened to put Hagen in an Uber, because that's how much I hate driving across town to his school. We have all these new roundabouts in Missoula and no one knows how to use them and no one yields appropriately, and I suffer from Roundabout Rage. When your dad is here, I mostly sit in the passenger seat, reading magazines and engaging in sparkling conversation about pop culture while your dad tunes me out. Heaven.

It's funny the things I didn't know to prepare for. I was hanging out with a group of girlfriends the other day, and they all started comparing how they share childcare duties with their spouses...like, "He does the teeth brushing and the bedtime story and tucks them in while I relax with a glass of wine, and then I get the up in the morning and get them ready while he sleeps in." And I'm not embarrassed to say that I teared up, because for now, I'm doing all of those things and having someone to share that load seems like ultimate luxury. I know there are single moms doing it all over the world, and my situation is only temporary and I need to get over myself, but y'all, it's hard. 

So let's catch up a little, shall we?

Hagen, your eternal best buddy Finley moved with his family to Idaho. They came back for one last weekend before they closed on their house to host Finley's fifth birthday party. 

"I'm this many!" "I'm this many now, too!"

There was face-painting, and everyone got to be some kind of animal.

Hagen, of course you couldn't just be "a dinosaur," and instead requested to be "A triceratops with electric powers who has three red horns and can shoot sparks and also evolve into a Mega triceratops who..." blah blah blah while the line built up behind you.

Then it was time to line up for the piñata.

Hagen, you have a billion wonderful, unique qualities that make you one of my life's great joys. But no one has ever said, "Boy, I admire that kid's athletic ability." This does not stop you from being recognized by a Rookie Sports Camp Counselor every time we go to the YMCA, where they shout out "Haaaagen!" when they see you and tell me "He was my favorite. I mean, he never did a day of sports, but still. We'd say 'Today, we're learning about soccer!' and Hagen would say 'That's too bad, because today, I am a coyote!' and he ran the perimeter of the field howling for an hour. He's awesome!"

Your lack of interest and participation in Sports Camp becomes apparent in situations like a group piñata bashing. 

You stroked the piñata with the bat. You danced with the piñata. You did everything short of taking the piñata on an official date. It was adorable and completely bizarre. 

Then of course, your sister got up there and smashed the snot out of it.

Hagen, your friend Kai shared his piñata candy with you, and you consumed enough to candy to suffer from a true piñata hangover.

The following week, we were invited to another birthday with ANOTHER piñata, and sure enough:

Eh, until the YMCA comes up with a Piñata Camp, let's just chalk this up to "stuff you get from me," and move on. 

Love,

Mom

Love Bugs

Hey, y'all - 

For Valentine's Day this year, we invited some friends over for a crafting party. We got out the colored papers and the glue sticks and the markers and the stickers, and let everyone make homemade valentine cards. Even the grown-ups got into it. 

Because your dad's not around, we even got to use glitter. Boy, your dad hates glitter. Speaking of your dad, the highlight of the party for me was when Ms. Correy arrived, bearing a really delicious, expensive cake your dad had ordered for me all the way from the other side of the world. This man knows the way to my heart...I don't care one bit about jewelry, but I sure do love baked goods. 

Of course Hagen wanted nothing to do with the arts and crafts until the party was over and everyone was packing up to leave. Then, he went into hyper-drive and hand-painted about 14 hearts, all by himself. If you want Hagen to party at 3:00pm, you gotta start revving him up at 12:30p.

For his class's card exchange, I had bought him a box of Pokemon cards that came with temporary tattoos. On the day of the class party, he woke up crying. Anyone who has ever raised a child knows what happened next: "But Mooooommm...I don't want to give my cards away! I love them too much! I caaaaan't...." etc. etc. insert Mom eye roll. 

At the breakfast table, I asked him to write his name on his cards, but he was too busy mourning their loss. Laney tried to talk sense to him: "But Hagen!" she explained, "You'll give away cards, but you'll GET cards, too. And sometimes those cards come with cool things like pencils or bubbles!" Hagen wasn't having it. "We have to leave here in 30 minutes," I begged. "Hagen, PLEASE write your name on the cards." No. NO. NO. Then Laney, exasperated, decided she was tired of his nonsense and grabbed the cards, wrote his name on them, and shoved them in his backpack. "There!" she said. 

I know you're not supposed to have a favorite child, but in that moment, it was her. 

Hagen, Ms. Correy later reported that you got into the spirit of things a little, and actually gave away your cards, though at each person's box in circle, you stopped to say, "I sure do love THIS one." Or "I'll miss THIS guy."

Laney in the role of Favorite Child came to a screeching halt the next night at bedtime, when we discovered that she had head lice, and had given it to me. Hagen, in the role of Child Who Did Not Infect Our House With Bugs was suddenly promoted. Of course, we discovered this around 9:00pm. It's like a Law of Parenting: nothing bad ever happens at 9:00AM, when all the stores are open and the sun is up and it's possible to call on a babysitter. 9:00PM and after, only, for lice and ear infections and puking. 

I called Correy and begged for guidance. As a preschool teacher, she's been down this road before. She told us to coat our hair in oil - she recommended coconut or mineral, but of course we only had avocado because it's $16 a bottle. Then, we were to wrap our heads in cling wrap and blow dry them as hot as we could stand it for about 5-10 minutes. The oil suffocates the bugs and the heat seals the deal. 

Laney was a trooper about the whole thing, and the treatment was surprisingly effective. Correy told us that the next step would be to go to the drug store in the morning and get the lice shampoo. I asked Laney, "Can you please get dressed and maybe wear something that doesn't draw attention to us as we run into the pharmacy to buy shampoo for our parasites?" This was what she came up with:

Laney does not do beige. Or low-key. 

We dosed ourselves and Laney got to miss a day of school, and Correy came over at lunch time and pulled nits out of my hair while I prepared a show pitch for Netflix. Later that day, my boss asked me why I was so snippy, and I told him, "I don't know...maybe because I have two kids and two jobs and a husband in Afghanistan and an hour to get this presentation done and bugs are LAYING EGGS IN MY HAIR." 

We got the lice killed off, and y'all...I thought we were past the domestic crises. So I invited some of our friends over for lunch on Sunday, and the night before the lunch, I decided to fill the hot tub for the first time this year. I filled it to the brim, turned up the temperature and went to bed. The next morning, I opened the lid to see if it had reached the desired temperature, and instead discovered it was empty. The "Twilight Zone" theme started playing in my head. How do 500 gallons of water just disappear? I flipped the breaker off and started to investigate. I noticed some loose boards on the side of the tub. I pulled them off, and there, by the motor, discovered the body of a dead cat. 

AAAAARRRRRGGGGGHHHHH!!!

If lice never happen before 9pm, random dead animals on your property that need to be excised from your hot tub motor never appear when your husband is in the same ZIP code. 

Once again, Correy and Greg showed up without being asked, and Greg removed the cat. Dear Father God, if you read this blog, please assign Mr. Greg an additional 100 Heaven Points for his work down here, and see if you can have his favorite beer waiting for him when the time comes. 

When it's been a few weeks since I've updated this blog and you're wondering what-all is going on, now you know. But I bet you wish you didn't.

Love,

Mom

5 Year Well Child

Dear Hagen,

Last month, you had your appointment for your 5-Year Well Child visit. This seems like a good time to step back and take a look at how you've grown and just who you are these days.

In preparation for your visit, your doctor's office sent us a development workbook - pages of activities I should get you to attempt at home (everything from reciting the alphabet to jumping on one foot) to see if your language and motor skills were developing appropriately. You and Laney and I had way too much fun with this workbook. Every time there was a physical challenge, Laney coached you through it... "You CAN jump on one leg from here to the kitchen! I know you can! Like a flamingo, buddy!" And I rolled my eyes, thinking, "This is probably why the boy doesn't want to put on his own coat - 'cause he's got two women telling him how to do every dang thing and applauding."

Completing the workbook took us forever.

There was a section that required you to write your name and draw shapes. You can't ever just DO the assignment. You have to stop and ask philosophical questions like, "But what IS a rectangle, really?" Dude, I am not going to discuss the origins of geometry with you right now; just draw the damn shape. And then there was a box where you were supposed to draw a human figure. "Hagen, can you draw a person for me?" "No," you said, "but I CAN draw a monster that evolves into a robot."

At the bottom of the parent portion of the workbook was an essay question: "Do you have any concerns or worries about your child's development?" I wrote, "He's quirky as hell, but we're not worried."

Dr. Hoover told me the office enjoyed that, very much.

At your appointment, you were 42 pounds and 42 inches. We like our young'uns square as possible. At the end of our visit, I lied and told you that the nurse was going to give you some medicine before we left. What I meant was, 'She's going to give you some shots in your thigh." As she was giving you your vaccinations, you yelled "HEEEYY!" like you'd been duped. Then you hopped down from the table and she asked you, "Here's a sucker. Will you shake my hand?" and you said, "I WILL NOT!" and headed out to the parking lot with that sucker in your mouth. I had to jog behind you and call out to the receptionist: "Glad we don't have a co-pay! BYE!"

Even that workbook - as exhaustive as it seemed - didn't give a full view of who you are as a person, so here are some things I want to remember about Hagen, age 5. 

1) You're charming as hell. You will wear handmade hats and browse the bakery with me and say hello to every person you meet on the way. 

2) You are not afraid to pave your own way. Sometimes, we go to parties at Ms Julie's house. In her basement, Ms Julie has a large kennel, filled with pillows. Every once in a while, you are the only little boy at these parties, and the girls play loud, squealing, running-around-crazy games that you want nothing to do with. A few months ago at one of these occasions, you went downstairs with a bowl of chips, a juice box and an iPad, locked yourself in the kennel with your snack and a marathon of "Transformers." Some of the women I'd never met before at the party asked me, 'Is that little boy at the bottom of the stairs okay?" And then I heard some of the men around the fire say, "I wish I'd thought of it first." Last time we were there, you got your friend Kai in there with you, along with half a cheese pizza, so you're really making this boy-sanctuary trend happen. 

3) If I tell you we need to walk next door to feed the neighbor's cat, this is the outfit you come up with. Neon boots, Christmas ribbon scarf, water cannon. I showed this to your dad, who made lots of "Highlander - there can be only one" jokes. 

4) You love painted fingernails, but each finger needs to be a different, carefully-chosen color. This falls under my Hagen Standard Time rule, where you take how long something normally takes, and then - if involving Hagen - you times two and add five. [Fun fact: This is also how they determine the wait time at Outback Steakhouse. 10 names on the wait list = 25 min wait.]

 5) You're the kind of guy who will wear his shirt open before the snow's even melted, because you're a bat and bats need to flap their wings.

6) You keep your teachers entertained. Last week, you told Ms. Correy, "Today I am going to do something COMPLETELY different!" "What's that?" she asked. "My work!" you said. 

A few days later, she sent me this picture of you wearing your coat inside out because "the inside is green and the Incredible Hulk is also green."

Your sister got a new math board game, so you went into school and told Ms. Correy that she needed to teach you addition by the end of the day so you could beat Laney at her own game. Ms. Correy tried her hardest to give you a first-grade education in 7 hours, but in the end, Laney helped you through it:

7) You sleep anywhere you damn well please. Middle of the living room, doorway to the office, behind the bedroom curtains. I don't fight it, because even if I get you to sleep in your own bed, you'll wake up an hour later after I'm asleep and move yourself and I'll have to worry about tripping over you in the dark.

8) Speaking of weird stuff at night, you told me not long ago, "Sometimes, I like to do art when everybody else is sleeping." Well, that's not strange at all. You've drawn overnight murals on your dry erase wall, you've colored designs on your LEGO with a Sharpie, and you've made a tray full of multi-colored Play Doh worms and then put traffic cones around them in your closet so your sister and I would know they're off-limits.

9) You're the kind of guy who:

 -Will spend half an hour trying to teach the dog how to play Pokemon.

 - Will be told "I need fifteen minutes to finish this work project because I'm on a deadline. Can I have just 15 minutes of alone time?" and will respond, "YES! Just as soon as I tell you what these water-type Pokemon can evolve into!"

- Likes to be the inside of a "Hagen sandwich."

- Is the life of the party, once we convince you to GO to the party.

I had all of this in mind earlier this week when I drove to Laney's school to register you for kindergarten. Holy moly, how could that even be possible?!?

Again, I was presented with a questionnaire on what your future teacher should know about you. But by this time, it's old hat:

I think you're absolutely incredible, and I love seeing how your mind works every day. Granny Jack told me a long time ago, when I first became a mother: "That's the thing about children. They already know who they're going to be. You can spend your whole life fighting it, but they arrive with their own personalities and you just have to hang on."

I'm so glad I get to be a part of this ride.

Love,

Mom