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My flag. OUR flag.

Sep 26, 2017 by

My flag. OUR flag.

I had a coworker tell me today that she’d be ashamed if she were me and she bets my “husband is a terrible person since he’s marching off under Trump’s flag”.

Seriously. This happened. Word for word. As I’ve been emotionally preparing to send hubby off on his next deployment, these are the words she decides to share with me today. Truthfully, and this may be the pregnancy hormones talking, she’s lucky I didn’t punch her in her cunty mouth. (That right, I dropped the C-word. There’s a time and a place for all words, and this is the time and the place.)

Amidst the anxiety that comes with prepping for deployment, also comes extreme pride. Pride in my husband and his team, pride in myself and my capabilities….being ashamed? Never. I’ve been so angry at this coworker all day that my hands have been shaking, and I’ve given myself a headache. I can’t even bring myself to remember that everyone is entitled to their own (misguided) opinions, or to forgive her for her ignorance.

So allow me to be clear on two important details.

 

1) My husband doesn’t get to choose his boss, or his hours. He doesn’t get to decide he’s tired of his job and quit. He can’t use up all his sick time or plan extended Disney World vacations. He doesn’t get to pick and choose which holidays he feels like working for double time pay. His career isn’t glamorous or lucrative… but it is essential that he keep doing it, and doing it well.

2) It isn’t “Trump’s” flag. It is OUR flag. Yours and mine. You get to choose what you think of it, and how you treat it, but it’s still your flag. And me? Personally? I fucking love that thing.

 

That flag represents all the things that I hold dear in this world. Here’s the beauty of it, it stands for that freedom that you like to make grandiose claims about, the freedom to say…..choose a new president in a few years if you don’t like our current one.  It doesn’t represent one man, or one set of ideas, or one group of people. The close-minded stupidity of people makes me crazy some times.  That very flag that you are not acknowledging, that very flag that you refuse to stand up for? That’s the flag that gives you the privilege to make your “peaceful” protests in the first place…

And why can you do that? Because of people like my husband.

So, whenever my husband and his teammates next board that plane to destinations unknown: I’m proud of them, I’m proud of this country, and I will always stand for that flag.

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And just like that, we have a 9 month old

Sep 8, 2017 by

And just like that, we have a 9 month old

…because I don’t want to forget, because there’s so much to remember, and because I always want you to know how much you’re loved: here is a letter. To my baby girl as she turns 9 months old.

 

To my dearest, little love,

 

This week you turned nine months old. Nine, whole, crazy months of happy, stinky, squealing baby. I can’t quite believe it. How have you been a part of our lives for so long already? It seems like a minute ago I was waddling around, huge as a house, with you in my tummy. All the minutes spent dreaming of who you’d be and what you’d be like–we wasted, because you are so much better than all the things we’d ever imagined. And smellier. Much, much smellier.

It’s you who taught me how to be a momma, in those sleep deprived night time diaper changes where I was lucky to get the thing on in the right direction. Maybe not the greatest momma, maybe not even a very good one sometimes (don’t tell daddy about the time I let you fall off the ottoman) but a momma none the less. A momma who, most days, desperately needed a glass of wine, and still has no idea what she’s doing. A momma who is mostly positive your first word will be “shit”.

As I was learning to fumble with snaps in the dark without cursing and figure out what made you tick, I know there were days that I was less than stellar. I’m sorry for the stumbles and mistakes, but I think you’re turning out just fine. I think I’ll do a better job with your sibling, because you’ve helped me figure out how to balance on the tightrope that is motherhood. On your birthday you transformed me, I became a mommy, and suddenly life was all about you –despite my headstrong ideas that life would stay the same. It was selfish of me to think that it would be any other way. I was silly.

You’ve grown so much this month that my heart hurts as it tries to remember every single change. You do something new every day! You’ve started to giggle at your own farts, and point at people and laugh. Daddy is training you well. You sneak food off your tray to hand to Crockett, scream angrily when you think you’ve lost a toy, and yell at the top of your lungs: just because you’ve discovered you can.

When I think back to that first day when Daddy and I bundled you into the car after leaving the hospital, your tiny body completely lost in your giant car seat, and then look at you today: I am amazed. Your legs are almost dangling out of the seat now. You’ve been out in this world just as long as you were in my tummy! I can’t believe how fast time is flying.

You are solid, with a herculean grip and strong legs that you love to stand and bounce on. You love to crawl over Crockett and put everything, including momma’s hair, into your mouth. When I walk into your room in the morning and see you standing there, your blonde head poking through the crib rails as you balance on your chubby little legs, grinning at me, my heart almost explodes.

You notice everything. (Especially when we are eating without you, which makes you so mad). Nine months ago I couldn’t imagine a day when your personality would make me laugh out loud, but every day you become more like your daddy (Lord, help us all) laughing and noticing all the things that are funny around you. You clap your hands when you’ve done something well, and wave bye-bye. Each time I’m astounded by how smart you are.

Your number one favorite thing in the whole world is meal time, a girl after momma’s heart. Food literally makes you sing. You love to feed yourself and have mastered the art of picking up tiny pieces of your meal. You will choose broccoli over everything else on your plate but you also like spaghetti-os and peaches, peas and Cheerios. In fact, there isn’t much we’ve set before you that you haven’t gobbled up. You’ve started to share your food with mommy and daddy when you eat, and offer us a full belly laugh when we pretend to take it from you.

You love to blow raspberries at Daddy and play in your swing. You babble and grin at anyone who pays you attention and you quickly capture the hearts of strangers. You still love baths and swimming and all things water, you’ll scream with excitement if you know we are about to get in the pool.

You bring so much joy into our family I don’t even know how to put it into words, so it only makes sense that Mommy felt a little bit guilty when we announced to you that you are soon to be a big sister. You don’t know what that means yet, or how it will change your world (and ours) but my instinct is to squeeze you just a little bit tighter while you’re still my only baby. The transition to mommy of two is scary (probably for both of us) but I can’t wait to see what a great big sister you become. Until baby #2 arrives though, just let momma snuggle you a little longer. I need to soak in every last little bit of you. I blame you though. It’s your own fault that you’ll be leaving only-child-status, because if you weren’t so wonderful we would have never wanted another baby. You’ll always be the only kid who knows what it’s like to have my undivided attention, the first nose I’ve ever picked (besides my own), the first person I’ve ever said “I love you” to more than a dozen times a day…you’re the one who made my cynical, “Grinch-like” heart grow to sizes I never knew were possible. Which is why I know there’s more than enough room in that heart for both you and your new baby brother.

You, my first-born, will always get to know- I loved you first, I’ll love you always, you are the light of my life.

Love, Momma

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