Ohana: Nobody gets left behind, or forgotten.

In this life, this crazy military life, you cannot succeed (forget thrive, you can't even succeed) without the love and support from friends/family. Really, those friends become your family. They understand your struggles. They understand when you're going on day 8 or 15 of a TDY or deployment and are about to lose your fucking mind. They understand when you're irrationally furious at your spouse because they're on day 9 of 12+ hour work days and no days off. They understand the struggle of the single car military family. It is this community of friends that keep you sane. They will have your back through it all. Can't handle life today? Get all the kids in one place and co-parent. Sick? They will bring you food. Going to be late to pick up a kid from school? They've got you covered. Heck, I didn't even bother letting my friend know I would be a minute or two (literally just over a minute) late for preschool pick up and guess what? Her husband (whom I wasn't expecting to see at pick up) waited until I got there to collect their kids and head home himself. The guy might as well be uncle to my children. In our current state culture, that's actually the appropriate the title for our dear friends. It is friends like these that make military life possible. I needed to run 2 towns over after collecting some records the other week. One of my amazing ohana let me leave the babes with her while I ran off to try to beat construction/rush hour traffic.

In our life, we have to create community over and over again. Depending on the branch, that is easier or harder. For us, it's harder. We are seldom in areas with large populations and sometimes we're hated. But on this occasion we're on a large base mixed with all of the other branches; we've been able to make friends with all sorts of people and we have found our family here. I love it here, and that is largely thanks to our amazing military ohana here. Need to go for a run but hubs is on duty? No worries, someone will watch your kids while you get your run in. These are the people that, don't just keep you sane, but become family. In every sense of the word, every fiber of my being that had the meaning of family instilled in me while growing up agrees that these people are family. But outside of our community this love, compassion, and dedication to each other seems very bizarre. Yet to us, this is just life.

In this life, I will drive up on your lawn at just about 0410 and wait for you to climb in. I don't know your last name, you're just a casual friend that is also a runner. And here is where my 2 worlds collide. Ohm you're a runner and you need a ride to the half marathon too!? Climb in! And yes, at 0dark30 I may drive up on the lawn in front of your house. I'll also pull a driving maneuver that gives away that my roots run deep on Los Angeles' freeways. That's right, I pulled off a 4 lane lane change at the split. I had a car of runners, my 2 regular running partners and 1 casual friend that also needed a ride. Our running paces of various times and varying experiences. I have run marathons on one end and on the other my wonderful friend ran her first half!! I'm so proud of her for not only running more of it than she originally planned and finishing, but she also met her time goal!! My casual friend (who after this needs to actually be a friend) has run a handful of them and posted the best time of our group. My other running partner is a fucking rockstar. Shut up. Seriously, stop shaking your head at your screen and accept that you are not nearly as badass as she is. She has run 4 half marathons-all while pregnant and this last one, she is 33 weeks pregnant!! Go get your lazy butts up off the couch and do something, because she is making us all look bad. I am friends with some seriously baddass people. Scoot those 3 aside because that half marathon would never have been run if it weren't for the amazing friend that slept at my house and stayed with my kids while I ran. She had to wake up early with my kids, because they don't sleep in like hers, and deal with all of their craziness. She is a champ!  I got to meet, in person, a friend from FB. We've been in this CG journey together for 2+ years and we just got to meet in person. It was awesome! She is my family. 

All of these things though, they come at a price. And it's steep. Tomorrow one of these amazing people and her beautiful babies will leave our island. There will not be a tearful goodbye at the airport. No. We're not like that. Don't get me wrong. I started crying yesterday and it's hard. I cried today on her couch for a minute. My heart is breaking. They are leaving for family reasons, so I cannot treat this the same way as a PCS. My heart breaks for our kids that have become so close, that I will not get to see them as much, that my running buddy and dear friend is hurting so much. My heart is in fucking pieces right now. I love them as family, and I know we will see each other again (I will go visit no doubt, and we could still be stationed near them).  But still, this is the price we pay. We are forged together through the trials of the military and we will overcome the distance, but the initial heart break is still very real. Tomorrow, she will braid my daughter's hair one last time and our boys will get one last playdate before we walk out of her back gate like every other day; only this time is the last time. Military Ohana is strong, we have to be. 

Motherhood.

It is 0817 as I begin this post. I'm sitting propped up in my bed and I can hear the tv from downstairs which means that my husband has at least woken up long enough to put something on to occupy our kids for a while longer. He is snoozing on a couch, no doubt. How do I know? Because there are not any other sounds in my house. He is NOT the quietest person in the world, even trying to make breakfast he could wake the entire town with his volume. Thus, he is snoozing on the couch. So what am I doing with my time? I opened up Facebook and I read many wonderful "Mother's Day" well wishes, some directed at me and some directed at all mothers. But my heart hurt as I read them and a conversation with my sister played over in my head. You see, I have 2 of the world's best siblings by birth (and 2 of the best siblings by happenstance) and my sister is one of them. She is incredibly strong and has overcome many things in her life which endeavor to make her less, and instead she conquers them. She wasn't much older than my daughter currently is when our parents had me, only 3 years difference, and yet despite having been raised in the same house and with the same parents, we have led quite drastically different lives. I have lived all over this country as an adult and she lives in the same general area where we graduated high school. Lest you think I like to move a lot, I do NOT. I hate moving. I like stability and roots. Back to my point. Just because we have the same origins it does not mean we will have the same outcome. We had drastically different needs growing up. Some met and others we still strive to get met. Here, though, is one area that we have accomplished the same thing in our 30+ years on this earth. We are both mothers. To human children. I have birthed both of my children and that, frankly, is the easy way to motherhood. Despite fertility issues, we have 2 beautiful and completely crazy children. My sister...she took the champion's way to motherhood and followed in the steps of many of our family members.

My big sister is technically my half sister, and this is ultimately only relevant when I speak of the other half. Our parents were married in October of the same year that she was born (at the beginning of the year). Our dad married our mom and Kristina became his first daughter. His brother and sister inlaw gave Kristina a stuffed bear (BooBoo) that very first Christmas, and some 30+ years later she still has it. Our parents had 2 more children, our brother and myself, and then they closed that shopped and raised us three. They never treated us differently and our dad made a point of it; he has 3 children that he raised and cared for. His brother fostered a woman and she is my cousin D. I don't know much about their story or this came to be, but she is family. [oh, I heard my husband stir] My cousin T has been married times. Stop your judgements, not everyone finds marital bliss on the first try and they aren't all his fault: sometimes shit is just broken and it's everyone's fault or maybe nobody's fault. [our daughter just woke up very angry] Back to my cousin. Wife #2 came with 2 boys from a prior marriage and T raised them alongside the child that they had together. Those 2 boys are family to this day and were never treated any different than the rest of the kids in this family. T is with wife #3, and while I've never met her, they are incredibly happy together and a great match by all accounts. I cannot wait to get to meet my new cousin and the wonderful daughters she brought to the family. Let us add this up: T has 1 child from wife #1, 3 boys from #2, and 3 girls from #3= 7 children that to him are entirely his own, of which only 2 are biologically his. I know that these are his kids. Because as a family they are still together. They still love each other. T has a younger brother, N. N's wife is...she is a force to be reckoned with. I don't know where she found the strength to date with a young daughter at home-personally it would terrify me. [text from my mom that my dad went out and got some exercise-go dad!] But Ms. B is a force and when her daughter was...you know I don't actually know how old she was...maybe in the 5th grade Ms. B and her kickass daughter joined our family. N got a much older first child and had to navigate parenthood with the best wingman a parent could ever ask for. Ms. B is kind of my hero. Anyways, they have 2 kids together and just celebrated the oldest of their 3 kids graduated college!! I can promise you that my cousin N was one of the loudest and proudest fathers there that night/day. She is one of his daughters. This is our family, and my sister is one of, clearly, many who have come to parenthood the champion's way.

Kristina has 3 children. She has been an instrumental and constant part of their lives and raising them every day for the last...5ish years (nope, I don't know and it doesn't matter). But this morning, I doubt that she woke up to breakfast in bed, or hand made cards filled with love, or handmade cards filled in with prompts from school teachers, or flowers from their dad [actually, this might happen-I don't know], or any other thing that many mothers will be showered with on this day. [I can currently hear my entire brood in the kitchen, I'm guessing waffles for breakfast] Kristina and their dad are not married yet (that's later this year) but she has been there for them, like every mother has been there for their kids, for nearly half a decade and there is no other title for her than "MOM". My sister laments that she doesn't get these things. There is no day for her, there is no sweet child that she has raised to look into her eyes and say, "I love you MOM". To her kids she is "Kristina". She didn't get teenagers, by the way; she got at least 1 still in diapers, and the oldest is still in junior high (so obviously they were 5 years younger than now when she came into their lives). But to them, she is not mom and she wants to have more kids. She doesn't want to have kids of her own, that expression doesn't exist; she wants more kids with her fiance. People can be rude and callous and demand to know why 3 isn't enough for her. She likes kids and she is a good mom, she can have more kids. And not once in 5 years have I ever heard her say, "I want kids of my own." She has said, "I want more kids with M" and "I want more kids." Nowhere in there is the modifier that they must be her biological children. On some level, I always consider (because I know she does want to experience pregnancy, she's delusional as you can see) her having at least 1 more kid that is hers biologically, but I also know her heart for the many kids in foster care who need families to love them too.

The strength it takes to raise someone else's kids as your own is strength beyond what a parent like myself knows. I came to motherhood the easy way. There were hormones to help me bond with my kids and I am fiercely protective of them. Don't believe me? Ask just about anyone who has stood in the way of my kids getting medical treatment. It doesn't go so well for them. Not every mom who gives birth to her kids will get the beautiful bonding right away, but I think many do. There are other ways to this motherhood gig. Surrogacy is an option and that doesn't necessarily mean any biological connection to that baby. Although, you do get all the sleepless nights and head banging screaming you daydreamed about when you struggled to have kids. There are foster and adoptive moms out there that I know have been raising big beautiful families of kids that were never babies in their arms. This is the champion's way.

There are military spouses out there that raise their kids in a fashion very similar to a commune. We are all mamas to each others kids, of course we get the title of aunties and get to send them back home-but do you think I wouldn't jump in front of a bus for any of my many bonus kids? I expect high school and college graduation tickets. Probably won't happen, but that is the level I love them. Gross with illness and I will snuggle those kids that aren't mine by biology, they are mine by the military. [not waffles, eggs and muffin with...decent coffee, in bed]

All of us are moms, we all deserve to be recognized as such. I got to meet my friend's mom this past week. She didn't raise my friend. She came into the picture somewhere in the teen years and she is mom. She is a wonderful grandma to my niece and nephews. She stepped in. She is mom. But in our society we only glorify the mom that came to it by birth or surrogacy or maybe adoption gets included. We don't include the moms who came to it that filled a hole or who walk alongside the biological mom (as my sister does). These aren't moms that get celebrated in the media. But they fucking should be. They deserve just as much recognition-if not more- than a mom like me. When my husband and I disagree on some parenting topic-we have equal footing on the battlefield that is trying to raise non psychotic killer children. My sister? She is the underdog. She treads a fine line of fighting for her babies and not stepping on anyone's toes-because there are fucking toes to step on. I'd never succeed in her shoes. Ask the people in my life, I don't just step on toes, I crush them. I'm not delicate. But she is winning at this. Her kids love her. They value her. How do I know?? She feels "unappreciated". All moms, how many of you feel appreciated by your kids? (I'll wait for that one mom in the back to come to terms with the reality that she hasn't gotten a thank yet for not strangling her 3 year old who woke her up by bouncing on her yesterday morning and that same 3 yr old decided to ask 80 thousand million questions before she had had her 1st cup of coffee...there we go). The thing is, kids aren't going to appreciate all the stuff we do for them (or don't do to them) until they are much older and/or wiser. I really love and appreciate that my mom has been mainlining caffeine my entire life. It has kept me alive. More than anything, I appreciate my mom's flaws. For 3 reasons: 1) it showed me things I don't want to do as a mother myself. 2) it showed me that mothers are human and fallible. 3) reasons 1&2 let me know that it's okay not to be perfect. [shit my kids are coming up here]

Here's the quick end of this post: women come to this gig called Motherhood in many different ways and we are all mothers. So to all of us, especially my sister:

HAPPY MOTHER'S DAY!!

[0944]

We Are Equal.

I live in a world where women are equal. I live in this world because my husband joined the United States Coast Guard. The USCG has NEVER had gender norming rules and requirements. They have the strong belief that the job is the job is the job and your faith, your sex, your gender, your race, your desire to have a family does not factor into or change the job from their standpoint.

The USCG admitted women to their Academy before any other branch was legally required to by congressional mandate. The USCG had the first female CO Afloat (Beverly Kelley, 1979) in US history. She met the same requirements as every other CO Afloat. The first woman to complete Navy Dive School was USCG BM2 Linda Moroz in 1984. The first female AST (rescue swimmer) met the exact same requirements as every other AST, only better. Kelly Mogk-Larson was the first female Coast Guardsman to graduate from the Navy Rescue Swimmer School in 1986. AST1 Karen Voorhees became the FIRST (regardless of gender) ASTC in the USCG in 2013. The first woman to hold the job of Surfman (and yes, that's Surfman, not "surfwoman") met the exact same requirements as every other Surfman (now CWO Beth Slade). A title and job held by approximately 500 members making up approximately 1% of the USCG forces, is held by few women. But those women can proudly say that they earned it just like their shipmates with the same honor. In 2013 Surfman 484 became only the 6th woman to earn the job of Surfman. In 1990 SKCM Mary Fowlkes was the first African-American woman to deploy to the middle east during Operation Desert Shield-Desert Storm. That same year Annie Visser was the first woman to promote to CWO (BOSN). In 1993 BM2 Kathy Niles became the first woman to qualify on the '47 MLB.

Because of my husband I am raising a son and a daughter in a culture that respects honor, equality, and hard work. A culture that believes the job is the job is the job, no matter what else is happening in Washington DC. The raging Pacific Ocean still requires a dedicated Surfman to keep their crew safe while running a SAR case. The needs of those missing at sea still require a dedicated and AST to get them to safety (with the help of an entire helicopter crew). I don't need someone to tell me what feminism is. I don't need someone to tell me that I don't value women's rights because of my politics, my role in my family, or my disapproval of what has become of the feminist movement. I stand proudly, on the shoulders of Lucretia Motts, E.C. Stanton, Charlotte Woodward and Eleanor C. L’Ecuyer when I proudly say that their dreams have come to life in the USCG; without presidential mandate, congressional mandate, public march, public protest, or anything beyond their own belief that the job is the job is the job.  If you're wondering who that last woman was, let me tell you about how that woman earned a law degree and became the first female attorney hired by the Coast Guard and she fought for the Coast Guard to open all roles up to women, starting in 1951. She fought for pregnancy to not be seen as a disability (which is won in the CG, but not yet in the civilian world), she fought for dual service marriages to be allowed to co-locate. She retired in 1971 as a Captain, and was the longest serving SPAR. The women of the United States Coast Guard fought from the inside, and by the rules, to make sure that women were afforded equality in every way within the CG.

In the United States Coast Guard women are equal to men. If you want to live in this world, if you want to be a part of the greatest force for women's rights, then join the Coast Guard. Otherwise, shut up and sit down because you aren't willing to sacrifice your life for your cause. Meanwhile the brave women, men, and animals of the USCG put theirs on the line every single day to provide national security, safe waterways, to educate, and in the words of my son "protect the sea unicorns". And these kick ass women if the USCG didn't earn their accolades because they were crusading for equal rights. They earned them doing the job, that they wanted. Because the job is the job is the job. In the Coast Guard, it's a calling.

So women and men marching on Washington today: in the eyes of God and the United States Coast Guard we are equal.

Why is Maine Purple?

This week my country saw another election. I had hoped that post election our country would settle down and we could finally move on with our lives...I was wrong. In our house we colored in a map of the United States according to how they voted with the electoral college. Now, my son is 4 so we didn't discuss what the electoral college was, we just colored. We did it together, this state red, this state blue, this state red, this state blue etc. Until we got to our last state, Maine. I looked at the electoral college votes and the state and then the crayons in front of me...I needed another color. I needed purple. So I grabbed the purple and we colored Maine purple. 

"Why is this one purple?"

"Let me show you something." I scribbled on white paper with a red crayon, then a blue crayon slightly overlapping. "Do you see the red?"

"Yes. And the blue."

"Good. Do you see what happened where I used both colors?"

"It's pink! I mean purple."

"That's correct! The two colors come together and make purple."

"I like purple. Why are these other one blue and red and not purple?"

Deep breath, he's 4...how do I tell me son about our broken system and our broken people...deep breath...

"You see this box of colors here?"

"Yes. Can I use the green crayon?"

"I wish we could, but the green crayon didn't win any states."

"Why not?"

"Because people forgot that the green crayon was an option. They think that the crayon box is filled with only blue and red crayons."

"But this one is purple! How did that happen!?" 

(because Maine has their shit together kid...not what I said, but I certainly thought it).

"Because in Maine they split their votes between red and blue and that brought them together to make purple."

"But...why didn't the others?"

"I have no good answer for you baby. The truth is that some people put a higher premium on their own needs than the needs of others and in doing so they belittle and shame others. They demand tolerance while being tyrants. You don't understand, do you?"

**BLANK STARE**

"Okay, if I make you give your race car to someone who didn't make one of their own, how would you feel?"

"That's not fair! It's mine, I made it with daddy!"

"That's right. It's not fair. What if I told you that you have to give that race car to someone else and you aren't allowed to be upset by that or I'm going to treat you badly?"

"That's not fair, that's not nice. They can make their own!" 

"Yes, they can. What if they don't have the money to buy the wood and wheels for their car?"

"We can help them!"

"Yes, we can. We absolutely can help them."

"How do we get money?"

"Daddy and mommy work and get money."

"Yes. Someday you will work and get your own money. But what if you cannot work enough to get enough money?"

"You and daddy will help me...right mommy?"

"Right. We will help you. But not everyone has a mommy and daddy who can help. Who should help them?"

"We can. Or maybe people who have extra money?"

"Yes. Exactly. Should we make people help other people?"

"Umm...maybe if they want to."

"If they want to is right. When do you want to share your toys with your sister?"

"When I'm done. But not when I'm still playing with them."

"Exactly. Before this gets too complicated...You don't want to share your race car that you built with daddy, but you want to help other people to get the pieces necessary to make their own; and if they need the money for that you think people should be free to do so without being told they have to, because they might still have things to do with their money...correct?"

"Yes, and we can buy them paint so that they can paint their cars too."

"Z, you just made purple. You took two different ideas and you mixed them together to make something better: purple."

"But I like green best."

"We'll talk about green next election. For this election lets just focus on red, blue, and purple. People in the red camp don't like being told that they have to share; meanwhile, people in the blue camp don't like the idea that people who have resources (like money) don't share. People in the blue camp want everyone to have the same thing, and people in the red camp want everyone to have the same opportunities. You took those two colors and made purple when you said that what's yours is yours, but you don't mind helping someone else make their own."

"That's purple. What are green people?"

"So there is red for republicans, blue for democrats, purple for Maine, green for people who support the environment, and then white for libertarians. There are even more colors than that, but these are the ones that often get represented during the election process." 

"Nobody likes green and white?"

"They do. But green and white didn't win anywhere."

"What are you and daddy?"

"We're...I can't speak for daddy really. But I'm like the rainbow. I think that all the colors can come together and make something even more beautiful."

"But you voted for what color?"

"For president I voted white. There are other positions in government that I voted blue and some red and some green. Because that's what I believe will make the prettiest and best United States."

"Can we say the pledge now? I'm done coloring."

"Yes sweety, go for it."

"I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America. And to the republiK, for which it stamps, one nation, under God, indivisible with liverty and justice and for all."

To my darling daughter,

    I pray on this day and every day of your life that you know that you are more than the sum of your anatomy. People have said some truly hateful things to mommy because she chose not to vote for the female presidential candidate. We live in a country and society that demands I vote for the woman because of my anatomy. But I refuse to be reduced to my vagina. I am more than that, and so are you. I care about more than abortion, or free health care access, or equal access to jobs based on anatomy. Your daddy does too. You can do whatever you want in this life. You can be the president some day if you want. You can be a stay at home mom some day if you want. I will support you and fight for your right to do that. I will support you if you decide that you will join the military and do something incredibly dangerous in special forces. I will need a lot of Jesus for that, but I will do it because you can do whatever you want. It doesn't matter what your anatomy is or it's size. It matters what your heart says, the size of your passion and the size of your will to fight for it. You can do so gracefully, without losing your dignity. I am not the best example of this, but I am a great example of how to pick yourself up and try again. So I will help you with that if you need it. 

Your daddy is a member of the best branch of our armed forces for women to really shine in the reality of what I'm saying to you. The Coast Guard has never had "gender norming" rules or fitness standards for their rates/jobs. The job is the same no matter who does it. In the after math of hurricane Katrina there were men and women aviation survival technicians who pulled people from the destruction. Long before the Navy allowed women afloat the respect of holding command, the Coast Guard did it. The Coast Guard was the first branch to accept women into their academy. Women of the Coast Guard didn't whine and demand it be given to them. They fought with and pushed themselves to not only meet but exceed the standards set before them. That is my prayer for you. You are fierce. We are going to butt heads a lot. But nobody will ever have your back like me. Well...I suppose some day you will marry and I will take a back seat to that person, but until then, I am your champion. I am fighting for you, with every vote, to have a world where you are valued for your individual ability to contribute to society and to the betterment of mankind. You are supported by daddy and I, but do not mistake support for acceptance of mediocre. You will have dreams, they will be big, and we will encourage you to fight for them. We will call you out if you throw in the towel. If your dreams change, we will be right there to support the new dream. But we will not support you giving up. You and your brother are so much more than the labels that society will try to put on you. Take them off, stick them in the garbage where they belong. There is only 1 label that you need to wear proudly and remember every day of your life: loved. I hope that by the time you can read and understand this letter that our country is purple, or  rainbow. I hope that you will not have to experience the polarizing effect that the two party system has on our countrymen. 

I love you,

Mom.

 **I did not host my weekly "whine and wine Friday" this week because of the election. I am done with the media and the fighting. I believe in a better world for my children and that is what I am teaching them: how to be the better world. Go be shiny!

The Untitled Home School Post

I don't even know what to title this. We home school. When I say this, I don't say this lightly. I don't say this unguardedly. I say this scared and cautiously. Not because I am doing anything wrong. Rather, it is because other people have taught me that they have no fucking clue what home school looks like, how it happens, or what it takes. We didn't come to this decision lightly. We got stationed in a state that would keep our son out of school an extra year. He attended preschool at 3 years old and loved it. He more than loved it. He loved school, his classmates, his teacher (she had an unfair advantage in being his aunt). He blossomed there and it was uniquely his after a lot of upheaval in his life. He moved states, his daddy went from stay at home dad to being in the military (and gone a lot), he got a baby sister, the list could go on when it comes to what my sweet boy had to cope with in less than 6 months. For us, preschool was a blessing. He got to have a life separate from his sister, and he didn't have to feel so alone and out of control. I'm not saying he didn't have some growing pains; because he sure as hell did. But it was an overwhelmingly positive experience. So when I say that we home school, and didn't come to this decision lightly, I assure you I mean it. With orders to Hawai'i though we were faced with a long term problem. The cost of preschool is stupid high here, and he would still be held back a year because the birth date cut off is in July and his birthday is in August.

These factors led to the realization that we would have to home school. This wasn't really an option. But neither of us really do anything half way. We are all in or all out sort of people. The only time you find us half in something is when we're trying to do it for the other person, but we're not really into it. By the way, this pretty much is a super rare thing. So we would have to be all in. I spent weeks researching curricula and trying to decide about shipping costs to Hawai'i (if companies even shipped to Hawai'i), do I risk being over weight with the movers and get the materials on the mainland before the move, how the FUCK do people do this?? I had friends, fortunately, who home school and they let me see curricula and talked to me about what my options were, what did I really need to teach? They helped me navigate the treacherous waters that home schooling is surrounded by. [If inquiring minds want to know, my daughter is running around my living room screaming and crying...it's distracting, but I cannot soothe her-I have tried]. I read blog after blog after blog on home schooling curricula, schedules, organization, methods etc. It was a long and exhausting time for me. Fortunately, with my friends by my side and the help of an awesome blog , which allowed me the peace of mind and courage to piece together my own curriculum, I was able to make some decisions and get everything settled for our son to home school through the first grade. Our military life gave us opportunities to talk to other military families that home school and how they make it work, why they make it work. In fact, my CoastieBestie writes a few different blogs (including being a military spouse in the smallest of the military branches) and she has given me extra support and love along the way as we've been navigating our first year of home school. And that's where we are: year 1.

So what does my "school week" look like? Some weeks it's 5 days (M-F) of school work, some it's 4 days, and this week it's 7. I have the freedom (and sometimes burden) to make my weeks as long or short as necessary. I write my own daily schedule and when life interferes (because for real it does) I have to shuffle and adjust. I don't just have year long goals for my kid...I don't actually have year long goals...I have month long goals. I sit down with my day planner and I look at the previous month and where we're at. Then I set the monthly goals. I am setting November's goals this weekend. My October goals were pretty basic.

• Get to Lesson 10 in math
• Finish title case writing prompts
• Identify numbers 1-10 by sight
• Identify the alphabet by sight
• Get to Lesson 50 in reading. 
• Have fun, color more

That's it ladies and gents. Six goals and some started part way through the month. Last week we had a 4 day week. Why? Because I went to the Joint Spouse's Conference on Friday and my husband would have both kids to himself. In the interest of making it easier on him, I wrote my schedule so that he didn't have to do any structured schooling. The week prior was a standard 5 day week and this week is a 7 day week. SEVEN DAYS!? What am I thinking!? I'm thinking that my sweet husband thought he would be ever helpful last Friday and stain our kitchen benches. The benches were not finished by Monday and I was without a work space for school work. So we did a little bit from Monday's, Tuesday's, and Wednesday's schedule (adjusting each day as we went and making sure that we prioritized our monthly goals) and I finished staining the benches Thursday and we finally started getting back on track. However, the only way to meet our monthly goals, at this point, is to do some school work every day until the end of the month. Even then...I think I'm going to fall short somewhere. But I will come close and that's acceptable to me. That is the joy of my home school choices.

What curriculum do I use? Because let us be honest; this is one of the widely asked questions of those trying to survive the shark infested waters that is figuring out this home school thing. I had originally planned to buy a boxed "complete" curriculum. However, I decided against it the more my friends assured me that I only NEED to teach reading, writing, and math. So with that in mind I set out to find those things. Reading was the "easiest" choice to make. Several friends all used the same book so I snatched it up from Amazon at a great price under $15. I thought I was done. A few other friends also used Bob Books so I snatched up some of those as well, as I figured it couldn't hurt to have supplemental reading...right? Then I got even more carried away and got some of Scholastic's beginning readers, because again: it couldn't hurt to have supplemental reading. Then I stopped. I moved onto writing...this was fraught with danger. I initially just used free print out from all over the Pinterestverse. But I quickly realized that I needed more. I needed a better, more hands on way to teach writing. My son is a wiggle worm. He is an active child that loves to move and physically do things. So when I found that awesome blog above, I knew I was reading from a mom on my level. I loved her writing and her math curriculum. I started researching further into both and asking various teacher friends, friends with degrees in teaching science. They supported these 2 choices and then all I had to do was get over the sticker shock. In the end I chose to go with Handwriting Without Tears for writing and I bought the kit with the wooden pieces and letter cards so that my son could physically make the letters, write the letters, and even build the letters. He loves it. For math I chose Right Start Mathematics and Life of Fred. Math is incredibly important to me and I want to give my son different avenues to learn this ever important subject. These are the things we came to Hawai'i with. Then it got even more complicated. I decided for fun I should find some science picture books to read to our son, maybe even with him, and while it wouldn't be any "classroom" type science, he would get to hear about various science topics. We have read a few books on the weather, some on the ocean, some on animals etc. I also grabbed a book about maps and my husband and son read it together and then draw out various maps (his bedroom, our house, our street etc). This stuff is purely for fun and not at all our focus. Speaking of fun, I bought a dot-to-dot and puzzle book specifically for pre-k through 1st grade kids at Sam's Club. Each day he gets to do a page out of it for fun learning. I also realized that there was a gap between my son finishing the first part of HWT and the next step. So I got a composition book and on one side I wrote out the lyrics to various songs and had him copy them on the other side. I shop Target's "dollar" section. I got some great resources there, like these neat little alphabet puzzle cards that I use to help my son be able to match up the letters and identify them better by sight. He loves it and doesn't consider it work. My mom is another great resource. Being so far from family my mom sends us a care package about every 6 weeks. Inside are a variety of things from stuffed animals for the kids to candles of me for when the power goes out. She has also sent things that I can use as a part of my home schooling. Not always, but I always want to be able to use what she sends and I usually can. I have hodge-podged together what our curriculum is. I have cherry picked what I like and what will help my son best.

And to that, I think that is the best way to go. If you're asking me, which you're not. I love that I have complete control of what we're doing and not strapped into anything. I can take a day off, I can add two days to the schedule. My daughter had to do a hour long sweat test this week; my son and his little notebook of work came with and he did it there. I love how portable this is. I also love my carefree organization for what work we do. I keep track of each day's work on a post-it and I cross each item off as we do it. At the end I place each sticky into a composition book that I keep. There I make notes on how it went, or didn't, and areas where we can do better. I also stash in there things that show developmental/educational progress, like a kindergarten readiness evaluation and various crafts/drawings. I have it to look back on and to, hopefully, encourage me by how far we've come. We'll see how that plays out. There is one particular note I wrote to myself about having an independent reader by my birthday...we'll see how close we get to that being a reality, I've got a few months to get there. I even keep track of his reading from the Usborne First Reading Library. Why have I told you all of this? Because, I think my friends forget that I am with my kids and educating them every freaking day. So if I smack my head and mutter "what the fucking shit is this kid" (so that my son can't hear me, and never where he is anyway) when my son started randomly writing his 'N' backwards, it's because I know that he hasn't had that problem until this week and I expect him to correct himself. Not because I have unrealistic expectations of my kids or because I'm a horrible mother. It's because I know my kid and I know he's only writing them backwards because he thinks I'm not paying attention to him and he is trying to get more mom time. It doesn't always work, because we have rules for when he needs attention and how to go about getting it in a healthy way without invoking negative consequences. I know my son can write "happy birthday", and I expect him to. I don't mind guiding him on it, but I know he can do it. He also has the best cheerleaders ever: MOM and DAD. He gets to hear us tell him every day that he can do it; that we believe in him. I don't know many other kids that get this every single day of their lives in such a meaningful way. Many parents are encouraging and supportive, but they don't get to see their child in the classroom every day and what their skill levels are on a regular basis. They are great parents still, but we get to see more than they do. It can also be a problem because I smack my head and mutter "what the actual fuck am I doing wrong" on a weekly, sometimes daily, basis.

If you came here looking for home school advice, you have it. If you came here and have home school friends that you just don't get: now you have a better idea, bring them wine.


disclaimer: I don't get anything for providing links, I just do it to make it easier for my readers to look at this stuff.

The Same, Only Braver

      I did something recently I've wanted to do for over a decade: I shaved my head. Or rather, my husband did. I didn't bic it, but got the clippers out and after chopping off the bulk of the length (some 16 inches) my husband started the messy work of buzzing it off. He stopped once to have me wash it, because there was too much loose hair gunking up the clippers. It was at this break in the journey that he asked me if I wanted to keep any of the remaining length on top. I actually liked the general look so we devised a plan to keep it and shorten the rest of my hair. I will be donating the length of my hair from this adventure, since there was plenty to spare.

      It has taken me over a decade to work up the courage to do it. And the responses...are mixed. Why did it take me so long to do something I've wanted and that is essentially not even that big of deal? I mean, it's hair and it grows back. It's because I have very little self confidence when it comes to my looks. Ask my husband and he will tell you that I always refer to him as the pretty one. Not even on my wedding day did I feel beautiful. I see myself through the harsh and critically disappointed lense of my mother. Not to say that my mom feels that way about me; anyone who knows her knows how she feels about her kids. But I think that, like many women, I feel the pressure to live up to their mother's expectations. Also, my mom tends toward the idea that women have hair of a certain length. Certainly my father does; but he is from a different era entirely. Anyways, here are some of the things people have said since I cut the hair.

      "You chopped all your hair off? At 6:30 in the morning? Did you have proper coffee before embarking on this adventure?" (I sent her the picture @0630 my time)

     "Wow...it suits you..."

     "It looks good on you."
     "You're a woman, you're supposed to have hair. You cannot go GI Jane your hair and be respected. What did your husband say when you came home from getting it cut?"

     "Those are some nerdy glasses." 

     ...silence... 

And the most important comment made, I want every person to read:

"I wish I had supported you sooner. I'm sorry. Because maybe if I had you'd know how beautiful you are and you are. It looks like you were always meant to have your hair this way. I should have supported you, that is my job and I failed you. You are beautiful and I'm kicking myself for not getting on board sooner."

      My husband ladies and gentlemen. Love that man. When putting our son to bed that night he asked me if I cut my hair so that I could be a different girl. I answered that I did it so that I can be the same girl, only braver. Because it takes a lot to let go of perceived expectations of my parents and to fully embrace the me I want to be, meet the standards and expectations I set for myself. Someday my kids will be faced with their own expectations of self, their thoughts on the expectations their dad and I have for them. And to that, I need them to know that it is the expectations they have for themselves that matter the most and that I will always support them. It is my ardent hope that they find a partner that supports them. I think that it's important to feel beautiful by one's own standards. I will never be beautiful by society's standards, but by my own-I get there everyday. I hope my kids see that. I pray that they see beauty in places unconventional, by the influences of their own hearts and by their own standards of beauty. 

I Watch You Breathe, So That I Can Too

Dear Sweet Boy,

I love you. It has been a long hard year and it's about to get harder, again. Daddy and I love you so much. I know you feel that you are less important to me. I know that you think your sister has taken over my attention. The military has ruined your perfect family in your eyes. Your teacher is gone, your friends are gone, you live in a place with rules about TAPS that you don't fully understand, your daddy has been gone for most of the year. Your life has been turned upside-down. You have made a few new friends but not as many as you could if you were in preschool again. There are so many new rules, they come with age, and you don't really like them. You have had to take a back seat to your sister's doctors appointments and you have so much energy that keeping you in a doctor's office isn't fair to anyone. I'm so sorry. I try to arrange for you to get to be with one of your friends while mommy takes baby sister to yet another specialist appointment. It just doesn't always work out that way though bud. I don't know how to explain to you that your friend's parents have lives and plans and they can't always have you over when little sister has an appointment. Sometimes, you have to come with us. It breaks my heart when I see you acting out because of this new dynamic where you get less time with mom and dad and sister gets more mom time. I know you think I sound mean when I correct your behavior (yet again), but on the inside I'm sobbing tears of sorrow that I pray you never understand.

Your sister sees over a dozen specialists and you have to go with us, or be home and not be involved for those appointments. You have to be quiet while mommy and doctors/therapists talk. When you ask me what is wrong with your little sister it is everything I have not to breakdown when I say, "I don't know". Because the truth of not knowing is killing me, and it's why we see so many specialists. "I don't know" is why the balance scales of mom's time are "unfairly" tipped in your sister's favor. "I don't know" are three words I don't want to ever say again in regards to your sister's health. I cringe at them, I hate them. I hate that 'I don't know' with every fiber of my being and my sweet boy I want you to know something: as fierce and passionate as you've seen me fighting for your sister, I will fight for you. You are just as loved and important as she is. You've seen me in full bitch/get the job done mode and you've seen me breakdown when I am lost in trying to help her. You have patted my back, held my face in your tiny hands, and told me that everything is going to be okay. You are the sweetest little boy ever, and in those moments my heart breaks all over again for you and what you are missing out on, what you are witnessing. My precious child, I wish you didn't have to see this sometimes. I tell myself that it's okay. That you are seeing what a strong mom/woman looks like. But mostly, in my heart, those are lies I tell myself to comfort myself.

What you don't know most is that your exhausted mom is fighting for you too. The only way for you to do your 2nd year of Cubbies is if mommy "volunteers" to help the AWANA Club. So mommy volunteers and you get to do your 2nd year of Cubbies. While other parents probably don't think much of it, this is asking a lot of your mommy. The time is incredibly inconvenient, there's a lot of work involved when trying to plan for everyone, our Sundays are fully booked. When we get home the last thing I want to do is make dinner and that whole nighttime routine thing, but I do it. I do it so that you have something that you love, that doesn't revolve around your sister. We did swim lessons, just for you buddy. You get to do crafts and projects (just you and dad or mom) that you love. I make myself be a better mom, for you. You challenge me to be more patient, be gentle and you remind me that I need more grace. You don't know it, but once the house is still and everyone is asleep for the night, I sneak into your room and watch you sleep. I count your breaths, breathe with you. While you sleep, sister sleeps, daddy sleeps (when he's home) I am in your room, praying over you, telling you that I love you, doing yoga and taking a few moments just to share space with you. When I finish, I kiss your forehead and sneak out down the hall. I pray over your sister before I snuggle up to my pillow (or your daddy if he's home) and I fall asleep with hope that tomorrow can be better.

I promise you my sweet boy, I will someday know what is going on with your sister. I have to find the answer not just for her, but for you as well. I love you, please hold onto that as we muddle through this.

Love,
Mommy