Kaden-isms

I plugged in my hot wax machine the other day in the bathroom in order for it to heat up. Kaden came out of the bathroom plugging his nose and of course, overreacting. "Now what?" I ask. Kaden says "It smells DISGUSTING in the bathroom. It smells like those leather strips you put on your head to rip your skin off". So I of course reminded him that it was the third Tuesday of the month=Skin Ripping Day.

I was trying to clean up and felt the need to pull my hair up out of my face. I grabbed a rubber band and while walking pulled my hair back into a pony tail. Kaden shook his head and said "I don't know HOW girls DO THAT!??" I stop for a moment and try and figure out what in the world he's talking about. "Do what?" He replies "How do you just grab all your hairs and pull them in the back of your head where the center is?" And I'm like "Whaaaat?" He says "How do girls know where the center of their head is? How do they know without a mirror where to make a ponytail?" And I ask "You can't find the center of your head without a mirror?" "No" he replies. And I'm about to tell him how ridiculous that is when Bob walks by and says "He's right. We never stop being baffled by that either..." And I'm left standing there feeling embarrassed that I'm proud of the accomplishment.

Yesterday Bob and I were discussing when we were going to get Kaden's braces put on. Kaden shouts "Oh no! Not braces!" and I'm thinking he's scared--which I'm sure is normal because they can hurt. So I prepare for a big Mommy moment and ask him gently why he said that. He says "Mommy, if you get me braces PLEEEASE don't get me magnetic ones--because I might get pulled up into space by a giant magnetar and die!" What can you even say to that? Yeah, I know.

Gullible

So apparently I suffer from severe gullability. Which, in all honesty, my close friends already know and love to torture me with. Let me illustrate:

I'm upstairs in the youth building with Collin & Kiefer for drama practice. No one bothered to mention to me that there was a huge wasp problem in the area and they had sprayed and basically quarantined the area. I mean, why should they tell me, right? I'm just a youth leader that has practice up there every Sunday... haha. Anyway--we get up there and see a bunch of dead wasps on the floor and I'm freaking out. The bathroom hall is completely FULL of dead wasps and I'm getting all nervous and shaky. Then I hear a buzz and realize there's a live one in the light and I start screaming like a maniac and running downstairs. The boys follow me pretending to be very manly but I KNOW they were creeped out as well. When I get to the bottom I'm sure the wasp followed me and I'm patting myself and dancing around like I'm about to pee my pants. They just stare at me. I finally calm down and start to say something when we hear a door open down the hall. I opened the building so I know we're the only ones in it. I freeze, terrified because... well I don't know why. I just did. The boys see my eyes wide open and I whisper "What was that?" and Collin says very slowly and seriously: "The wasp". And I am telling you for the smallest inkling of time measurable... I believed him. Then they both took off running as I chased them and thank God it was only Pastor Vicki... sigh.

Another great example: I'm at the On Base vet clinic getting my retarded cat micro-chipped because YES, they're THAT important... and the vet starts explaining the process. It's nothing like what I thought it was and she says "Well, how did you think it worked?" and me in all my smartness say "I thought it was like a GPS system" and she says "A GPS system INSIDE your cat?" and by her tone I know to retract, gulp and ever so quietly reply "Yeah". She says IN THAT TONE "So.. you thought if your cat got lost you could GPS track it to the microchip in its neck?..." and I once again reply quietly "Yeah.." She looks ever so shocked and says "Well, ma'am, we ARE the military but you have to remember this IS a cat..." Yeah, I know..

Okay so my last example is by far Bob's favorite. When I was little my older sister rented the movie Airplane. It was the greatest movie ever. Except I tell all my boys not to rent it "because it's got boobies in it"--and I stand by that. Anyhoo--for those of you that haven't seen it-- LIKE MY BOYS WHO I KNOW ARE TOO PURE TO WATCH IT--there's a scene where the pilot puts the plane on auto-pilot. When he does a balloon man inflates and begins to fly the plane. Now I need to remind all of you just like I remind Bob EVERYTIME this story comes up--that I was like 7 years old!! Okay... so fast forward to like 23 years later (sheesh this is embarrassing) and Bob's telling me about a mission they flew at work and some sort of thing-a-ma-jiggy that was broken on the plane he was fixing and something about the navigation system (his job is complicated-don't judge me) and it has to do with the auto-pilot system. He's explaining how it works and I'm like "Do all the inflatable pilots look like the one in Airplane or do yours have flightsuits (what the military wears) on?" He takes like the LONGEST pause in the universe and then says "What?" "Haven't you seen Airplane?" I ask. "Yeah" he replies. "The autopilot you know is dressed like a pilot. Is that how the military ones are dressed or do they have different clothes?" I would give ANYTHING for you to be able to see this man's face at this moment. I am laughing right now just thinking about it. Finally after staring at me for about 3 minutes he dies laughing. And I don't know how many of you have actually seen my husband laugh like he did that night. My husband has worked on the flight line for almost 16 years now. He is a Tech Sergeant in the Air Force. And his wife thought an inflatable balloon dressed as a pilot flew the plane when no one else was. FREAKING MOVIES!!

So there you go. I am an idiot. That's right--laugh it up.

Alice in Crappy-land

So I'm getting ready for church on Sunday morning (yes, I KNOW it was noon service but THAT'S STILL MORNING!) and Kaden is following me around trying to steal my attention away from my beautifying. He seems to always know when we are running late because he comes up with EVEN MORE to tell me while I'm rushing from room to room. I finally get him to go away for a whole 5 minutes while I try to find something to wear---which is becoming more and more frustrating these days. I'm not quite "pregnant enough" to wear my hideous maternity clothes yet all of my normal clothes are too small. So I remember I have this really long dress/shirt thingie that I wear with leggings. I put on the extremely snug leggings and run back to the bathroom to finish my makeup. I didn't put on the big shirt and am standing in the bathroom wearing the leggings and a little black tank top. I've got my hair up in these gigantic velcro rollers (because I am in desperate times in the hairstyle department) and my makeup is halfway applied. Kaden comes running by and then I hear him slam on the brakes and backup to the bathroom door. I figure he has another 10 minute story to tell me but instead he dies laughing. I'm thinking maybe it's the rollers or the makeup.. nope. He keeps laughing and I finally look at him and he's breathless. He says "You look SO funny Mommy! Your stomach is so huge and gigantic but then you have little skinny legs and it looks SOOO funny" I'm standing there wondering if smacking him as hard as I can and calling it pregnancy insanity would stand up in a court of law... but managed to control myself. So I say "Yeah, I know--really funny. Go get your Bible I'm almost ready" He says "Are you really gonna wear that? It's SO funny! You should see how your legs look so skinny and your stomach--" I scream "I KNOW! IS DISGUSTINGLY HUGE--GO GET YOUR BIBLE!!" He starts to walk away giggling and says--"it's like one of those guys in Alice in Wonderland... you know?" (he's forgotten their names) My skin starts to burn. I can literally feel steam coming out of my ears--just like in the cartoons. "Oh.. what's their names...?" he says. My eyes are squinted with rage, my mouth is wired so tightly that I can barely get the words out "Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum?" He dies laughing "Yeah, Mommy! You look like them!" He giggles to himself for a moment and then finally makes eye contact with me. The laughter stops, he gulps and then says "But I'm sure you'll still look really nice..." and runs for his life.

I finished my hair and makeup in silence, went into my bedroom and put on jeans. And my child lived to see another day....

"Retreat"

Kaden and I were waiting at a light right before the gate to get off of the base. All of a sudden I see all the cars in the main street in front of me stop moving. I looked behind them all to see if I could spot the ambulance but didn't see it. Kaden asked me what was wrong and I said I didn't know. I looked back toward the BX to see if anyone was coming our direction only to see everyone standing still. "Oh, listen, babe!" I said quickly as I rolled down the window. I put my noisy SUV into park and quickly put my hand over my heart. I forgot that Kaden hadn't ever been on base during retreat and he kept talking and asking questions and I kept shushing him. Finally it hit me that he had no idea what was going on and I asked him if he knew what song was playing. "The National Banner" he replied. (he tries hard, really) I told him to look at the police at check in. "They're standing still not checking cars in and they have their hands on their hearts. That's weird!" he replied. I told him to look at the cars all around us. "Everybody's just stopped. Where's the ambulance?" I explained to him that at the end of the work day on base they play the National Anthem and everything stops. Every person that hears the song pauses. Some put their hands over their hearts, some take their hats off, some look for a flag, and some just stand very still. It's the most quiet, beautiful moment on base, I think. I hadn't been on base for retreat in probably 12 years. I had forgotten how beautiful it was. While I explained it all he said "Why are you crying Mommy?" but before I could answer he said with deep exasperation "Oh yeah.. you ALWAYS cry at this song".

I glanced at the MPs frozen with their hands on their hearts and at all the cars that pulled off the roads YARDS away from exiting the base--the first couple could've made it---but no one tries. It's important. It's... 'crucial' in a way. It's such a powerful moment to sit/stand there on a military base with your hand on your heart listening to our country's national anthem and be reminded why you've made do without your husband while he was sent to places like Bahrain, Kuwait, Afghanistan, Germany, and Korea. Reminded why you don't complain when it's time to iron his uniform AGAIN. Reminded why you look the other way when people have anti-war/anti-military signs on the side of the road. Because your husband's career is MORE than a job. He signed his name on that dotted lines years and years ago swearing that he would do whatever it takes. "Whatever" it takes. And whether you liked it deep down in your heart or not---you were proud. Proud to be his. Proud to be a "soldiers" wife. Because no matter what kind of negativity the media can stir up or crazed activists can come up with... you know you married a hero. A man that pledged not only to die for you but for all those negative crazed lunatics that give you so many headaches. He pledged to be blind to the "who". He pledged to be ready at all times. And as difficult as that is to accept sometimes, when he puts that uniform on in the morning--you're blown away--everytime. It doesn't get old. You don't forget. The military always reminds me of Colossians 1:17--All things were created by Him and for Him. My husband is not MINE. I'm just borrowing him. How beautifully sweet of God to loan him to me for a while for my enjoyment. Unfortunately the military doesn't loan with as tender of a heart... (haha) but I'm so unbelievably grateful to have my husband here with us.. now. Every moment he is here with me is a blessed one.

My husband is a hero to many. But most of all to me. He makes me so proud.

The Commissary

As an Air Force wife of 15+ years you get into certain habits and methods of doing things. They are most likely not the "convenient" way of doing things nor the "quick" way of doing things... but adaptability is the lesson here.

So I'm off in my loud, bumpy SUV listening to Kaden's Nintendo DS squealing and beeping all the way to the Commissary. For those of you "civilians" (ha--I love how condescending that sounds every time I use it--everyone in the military does, by the way) that aren't familiar with this word: the Commissary is the grocery store on the Air Force base. It's a good 35 minute drive and guarantees quite a bit of gas burned in my guzzling SUV but..... it's what I do. We, military wives are somewhat brainwashed into thinking that are husbands are the only ones that are.. well... "brainwashed"... and we shake our heads at how they snap to when a colonel walks by or yank their hats off when they walk indoors... but as pathetic as it is to admit--we're just as bad. We drive half the morning to grocery shop in a beige painted perfectly square building only to find half the items on our grocery list (pear viniagrette, my butt) and then wait in line for 30-55 minutes listening to the automated sign saying "Next Please!" every couple of minutes. Because a day at the commissary is an "event" rather than just a monotonous moment in the lives of so many you will find elderly retired military couples pushing and pulling 3 to 4 shopping carts loaded with food... like it was free. These people drive hours to shop at the commissary--mostly so they can tell other elderly people in their little towns and villages that they, well... 'shopped at the commissary'. That is apparently, something to be envied over the age of 65. They do it, however for the same reason I do it: We're convinced it's cheaper. We're sure that the $3.98/pkg chicken breasts are worth the time, energy and gas used for the trip. We've never had it any other way so why change anything? We assume civilians run to Wal-Mart and Crest and Homeland and return home half a day later just like us. It's quite shocking to find out otherwise so I don't share that information with anyone once I'm on base. I'd hate to be the bubble burster.

Once you're in the commissary, you might as well pretend you have a uniform on. In some commissaries (you'll LOVE this) there are actually arrows painted on the floor because you can only go down the aisle in the way that the arrow is pointing. God help the person that GOES THE WRONG DIRECTION. From the looks you recieve, friend, you are going straight to hell. So if you complete an aisle only to remember that you FORGOT the salad dressing guess what? That's right---you have to circle around the entire aisle to start it all over again. And there's no backtracking!! Don't you dare remember the salad dressing once you're already at the peanut butter because if you try and walk backwards with your cart someone WILL slam you in the heel. And on purpose. I've seen the sweetest of old ladies take people out by slamming the achilles. It's a move that all 'good' commissary shoppers know. Also--make sure that you start in produce. Don't even think about starting anywhere else. You will throw everyone's rhythm out of whack. If you get to the check out line and your tomatoes aren't smashed, you did something wrong---and people WILL notice. Oh and don't even think about asking for plastic. I don't care if there's a monsoon outside--take the freaking paper bags. You will avoid the tsks from the granola eaters that just PCSd (moved) from Colorado and Oregon. I think the last thing that's crucial to this shopping trip is the tip. That's right, I said 'tip'. Some idiot teenager or person that doesn't speak English will throw all your groceries into your environmentally friendly bags (with the bread on the bottom next to the toilet cleaner) and then stack them all on top of each other in a cart. They will follow you out to your car pretending to make small talk where you spend most of your time saying "What?" because you can't understand a gosh darn word they're saying. You stand and watch them put all the bags in your car on top of each other and then look at you for that tip. Yep. You drove all the way out here to save that money on chicken breast and you now have to hand it over to someone that just ruined half your groceries. And it's never enough. I promise. $2.00 $10.00.. it doesn't matter. They think they're changing the world and you just don't appreciate their effort. Next time I think I will just give hugs.

So here I am unloading all of my smashed groceries and going through my list to see what I need to get at Wal-Mart tomorrow. sigh. But you know what? At least I followed every single one of those freaking arrows....