Hubs enlisted in the Army when we were babies and from the beginning as a spouse, I was taught that Officer's wives *just knew*: if you had a question they had an answer. They were well versed in everything Army, they knew how everything worked, by seemingly instinct. 4 years later I found myself as an Officers wife, not having a clue what to do and with kids in tow. *gasp* I wasn't a Military Academy wife, I wasn't an Officer's daughter, I attended one coffee when hubs was at LT school when I flew out to visit wherein we discussed the responsibility but no one actually said 'here's the handbook, welcome!'. Yet, all of a sudden, it felt like all eyes were on me and my family and I had no instincts. I bought every book I could find on how to be an Army wife and an Officer wife. Half of them were written in the late 50's and everything was black and white. The other half of them were written in the last 10 years and everything was grey. I tried to wing it the best way I could but always felt like I wasn't quite doing what was expected of me. I joined clubs, I attended services, I volunteered, I army wife'd the crap out of life. But I never felt like I was doing it quite right.
Sunday, March 6, 2016
Saturday, August 22, 2015
Control, Panic & an AMAZING Retreat
We spent the last week at a family retreat, reconnecting with ourselves and our family unit and attempting to connect with other similar humans. I originally thought it would be a beneficial, therapeutic event for The Husband more than anyone, but I'm left wondering if I needed it more than he did? Don't get me wrong, WE took away many helpful tools that WE are using to help better US and OUR family. But holy crap, this was an eye opening experience about me for me.
Tuesday, July 28, 2015
Remember???
This weekend, we spent a few hours at a family event for The Husband's parents. It was a nice, casual event attended by people we hadn't seen in at least 15 years. There was lots of "Oh, you remember so & so, don't you?"
Nope, people, he doesn't.
It was really the first time since TBI became part of our vocabulary that we were in an environment where people repeatedly said "don't you remember me, So&So, etc?" to The Husband.
It was an interesting experience.
Especially because The Husband's favorite response was "Nope, sure don't." And then awkward silence.
Nope, people, he doesn't.
It was really the first time since TBI became part of our vocabulary that we were in an environment where people repeatedly said "don't you remember me, So&So, etc?" to The Husband.
It was an interesting experience.
Especially because The Husband's favorite response was "Nope, sure don't." And then awkward silence.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Gifts Are Rarely Wrapped Items
We spent last weekend in Kansas celebrating my Grandpa's 80th birthday. It was a fantastic weekend (minus the part where I suffered from heat exhaustion and missed the party I'd spent 5 months helping plan) and I can't wait to do it again next year (again minus the sickness piece...for the love of God when hosting a party in Western Kansas in July, do so inside...). I'd forgotten how much I love spending time with the people who knew you before: before you moved everywhere, before you became "mom", before you became "wife", before you became "you". My favorite thing about my family is that they grow with you. They don't have this little version of you that they don't let go of: you won't always be a toddler to them, they remember when you were a toddler but it doesn't define you. In all of the hubbub of the weekend, I was given an amazing gift...
Thing 2 was playing the dirt as we were finishing up pictures like she does and I was walking past her just as my mom's uncle was also walking past her. I stopped to correct her, realized she was done with her pictures and that I didn't really have a reason for her to not get dirty, as she does so well. And so I opened my mouth, said her name, mumbled something about dirt, and then shut my mouth. My Great Uncle laughed and I explained how she's my Pig Pen child; if there is dirt, she will be in it. He laughed and then changed his face, lowered his tone and said with a serious face: "My mother was the same way. She was always out there in the dirt and loving it. She reminds me of her." And then he smiled and I was thankful that I had sunglasses on so he couldn't see the tears welling up. Because I'm a softy at heart.
My Great-Grandma Johnson was an amazing woman. She stood all of 4 feet tall (I'm sure she was at least 5 feet tall, but I'm not convinced). She had 4 children, 3 sons and a daughter who tragically died shortly after birth because of a heart defect. She lived with her in-laws on a farm in western Kansas. The woman deserved a medal for that--her in-laws were not the greatest of people. My Great Grandparents sold the farm and moved into town after my Great Grandfather had a heart attack and for as long as I can remember they lived in a little house in Lewis, KS. She painted amazing landscapes. She wrote poetry. She baked pies. Her and my Great Grandfather travelled to Colorado every year. The older she got the more her head shook just a tad and we for years attributed it to the raising of boys who pushed each other out of hay lofts and to their children who were also just as crazy. I remember she was always happy and she always loved us for us, even when we threw the rolls across the room at my Great Grandfather's funeral family meal. She was always strong and steady.
But what I remember most is that they hosted Thanksgiving for many many years in that little house. I can remember there being what I thought at the time was 100 people crammed into what felt like a 10ft x 10ft box (some years that number may have been more accurate than not, but I'm pretty sure it was more like 30 people in 1,000 sq feet...), but no one had a bad time. Everyone laughed and joked. The women were in the kitchen, well as many women as could fit in the kitchen were in the kitchen, Great Grandpa Johnson was in his chair in the living room and the men and children were everywhere else. She would call everyone to the table and there was always inappropriate humor, to include her discussing the whole Lorraine Bobbit incident while carving the turkey, explaining how that would never work in her house because she didn't have a sharp enough knife to the hysterical laughter of everyone. She was the originator of who we are today....
So to be told that my daughter reminds anyone of my Great-Grandma is a fantastic gift that I'll cherish forever.
Thing 2 was playing the dirt as we were finishing up pictures like she does and I was walking past her just as my mom's uncle was also walking past her. I stopped to correct her, realized she was done with her pictures and that I didn't really have a reason for her to not get dirty, as she does so well. And so I opened my mouth, said her name, mumbled something about dirt, and then shut my mouth. My Great Uncle laughed and I explained how she's my Pig Pen child; if there is dirt, she will be in it. He laughed and then changed his face, lowered his tone and said with a serious face: "My mother was the same way. She was always out there in the dirt and loving it. She reminds me of her." And then he smiled and I was thankful that I had sunglasses on so he couldn't see the tears welling up. Because I'm a softy at heart.
My Great-Grandma Johnson was an amazing woman. She stood all of 4 feet tall (I'm sure she was at least 5 feet tall, but I'm not convinced). She had 4 children, 3 sons and a daughter who tragically died shortly after birth because of a heart defect. She lived with her in-laws on a farm in western Kansas. The woman deserved a medal for that--her in-laws were not the greatest of people. My Great Grandparents sold the farm and moved into town after my Great Grandfather had a heart attack and for as long as I can remember they lived in a little house in Lewis, KS. She painted amazing landscapes. She wrote poetry. She baked pies. Her and my Great Grandfather travelled to Colorado every year. The older she got the more her head shook just a tad and we for years attributed it to the raising of boys who pushed each other out of hay lofts and to their children who were also just as crazy. I remember she was always happy and she always loved us for us, even when we threw the rolls across the room at my Great Grandfather's funeral family meal. She was always strong and steady.
But what I remember most is that they hosted Thanksgiving for many many years in that little house. I can remember there being what I thought at the time was 100 people crammed into what felt like a 10ft x 10ft box (some years that number may have been more accurate than not, but I'm pretty sure it was more like 30 people in 1,000 sq feet...), but no one had a bad time. Everyone laughed and joked. The women were in the kitchen, well as many women as could fit in the kitchen were in the kitchen, Great Grandpa Johnson was in his chair in the living room and the men and children were everywhere else. She would call everyone to the table and there was always inappropriate humor, to include her discussing the whole Lorraine Bobbit incident while carving the turkey, explaining how that would never work in her house because she didn't have a sharp enough knife to the hysterical laughter of everyone. She was the originator of who we are today....
So to be told that my daughter reminds anyone of my Great-Grandma is a fantastic gift that I'll cherish forever.
 |
| Great Grandma Johnson in the garden at the farm during the early 60's? |
Monday, July 13, 2015
He Sleeps
For 8 years, The Husband didn't sleep. Army dictated his sleeping schedule and it turns out Army doesn't need that much sleep. The Army Husband slept 3-4 hours over 2-3 days. He saw no need in sleeping more than that and neither did Army.
Fact: sleep IS important.
The Docs discussed his the lack of sleep during the last few months of Army. They said things like "You should sleep more. You should have a sleep routine. You should get at least 6-8 hours of rest every night. Sleep is vital to your recovery. Sleep is crucial for cognitive function. Sleep is crucial for brain injury recovery. Sleep is required for psychological recovery. You must sleep." Army said things like "See that desert: go out there for days on end, observe both day and night missions, run night fire exercises, try and train the unprepared, and if you have time after all of that, you might be able to close your eyes in your HMMWV, but watch out for the coyotes that like to sleep with you." And then there were the few days that Army said "Eww you stink, go home, shower, sleep, come back out in 2 days", The Husband spent those nights with our friend, Wadio (aka Radio aka Small Torture Device For Light Sleepers Like Me) on the night stand listening to everything that was going on in the desert, so that if there was a problem, he could be consulted.
Army doesn't really appreciate sleep the way The Husband's brain needed it to.
But Civilian Land, oh Civilian Land, it does appreciate sleep. And so we hoped The Husband would treasure it as well.
Except He didn't.
He didn't treasure it on sleeping medications (two different ones--who can't sleep on Ambien?!?! The Husband.), he didn't treasure it on medications that weren't considered sleeping medications but were supposed to help his mind to chill out enough to sleep (not at all...), he didn't treasure it even after learning he has sleep apnea and got a CPAP to help (at that point he was just pretty pissed about being "tethered" to his side of the bed while I enjoyed having half of the bed ALL TO MYSELF...).
But a few months ago, he started sleeping.
I wish I could say what it was. I don't know exactly. It's not a medication (or maybe it is?). It's not a change in environment (or maybe it was?). It's not a change in stress level (or maybe it is?). It's not a psychological change (or maybe it was?). I'm honestly not sure.
But one Saturday a few months ago, I woke up, the sun was shining and The Husband was snoring. Then the next day, he was snoring after I was as well. He didn't know why he was suddenly sleeping in either, he didn't remember being up during the night but he wasn't sure. Around that same time, we got the new FitBit thingie and as an added bonus it tracks sleep!
Turns out, The Husband sleeps these days.
He still has rough nights, but they're more uncommon than common these days. He's napping less. He's alert and functional ALL DAY LONG, which I have mixed feelings about with all these kids home for the Summer...so much noise in my house.
It's been 3 years since The Husband said goodbye to Army dictating his sleep schedule, and finally, he sleeps.
Now if we could only get that 10 year old to treasure sleep too.
Fact: sleep IS important.
The Docs discussed his the lack of sleep during the last few months of Army. They said things like "You should sleep more. You should have a sleep routine. You should get at least 6-8 hours of rest every night. Sleep is vital to your recovery. Sleep is crucial for cognitive function. Sleep is crucial for brain injury recovery. Sleep is required for psychological recovery. You must sleep." Army said things like "See that desert: go out there for days on end, observe both day and night missions, run night fire exercises, try and train the unprepared, and if you have time after all of that, you might be able to close your eyes in your HMMWV, but watch out for the coyotes that like to sleep with you." And then there were the few days that Army said "Eww you stink, go home, shower, sleep, come back out in 2 days", The Husband spent those nights with our friend, Wadio (aka Radio aka Small Torture Device For Light Sleepers Like Me) on the night stand listening to everything that was going on in the desert, so that if there was a problem, he could be consulted.
Army doesn't really appreciate sleep the way The Husband's brain needed it to.
But Civilian Land, oh Civilian Land, it does appreciate sleep. And so we hoped The Husband would treasure it as well.
Except He didn't.
He didn't treasure it on sleeping medications (two different ones--who can't sleep on Ambien?!?! The Husband.), he didn't treasure it on medications that weren't considered sleeping medications but were supposed to help his mind to chill out enough to sleep (not at all...), he didn't treasure it even after learning he has sleep apnea and got a CPAP to help (at that point he was just pretty pissed about being "tethered" to his side of the bed while I enjoyed having half of the bed ALL TO MYSELF...).
But a few months ago, he started sleeping.
I wish I could say what it was. I don't know exactly. It's not a medication (or maybe it is?). It's not a change in environment (or maybe it was?). It's not a change in stress level (or maybe it is?). It's not a psychological change (or maybe it was?). I'm honestly not sure.
But one Saturday a few months ago, I woke up, the sun was shining and The Husband was snoring. Then the next day, he was snoring after I was as well. He didn't know why he was suddenly sleeping in either, he didn't remember being up during the night but he wasn't sure. Around that same time, we got the new FitBit thingie and as an added bonus it tracks sleep!
Turns out, The Husband sleeps these days.
He still has rough nights, but they're more uncommon than common these days. He's napping less. He's alert and functional ALL DAY LONG, which I have mixed feelings about with all these kids home for the Summer...so much noise in my house.
It's been 3 years since The Husband said goodbye to Army dictating his sleep schedule, and finally, he sleeps.
Now if we could only get that 10 year old to treasure sleep too.
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