One's In Afghanistan, One's In Iraq

We have two sons. They were born in 1973 and they've been a source of pride and joy since the two moments when they were born - ten minutes apart.

So how did it come to be that one is in Afghanistan and one is in Iraq?

Back when the boys were seniors in high school, we finally came to the realization that it was too late to start making financial plans for college. We had six kids and the strain financially had been enormous for years.

It's more complicated than this, but in a nutshell this was the crux of our difficulties. When Mr. Right came home from the Air Force he'd accrued enough seniority to walk back into one of the highest paying jobs in the mill where he worked. And everything in our lives was based on that high paying job - our house, our habits, and our family. But when an opportunity arose for him to take an apprenticeship that would lead to no more shift work, we couldn't let him pass it up. He hated shift work and so did I. The only problem was that his pay plummeted. Conversely, as his pay plummeted, the bills spiraled, and for years it was all we could do to keep our heads above water.

Now the kids were in high school or had just graduated and I had an archaic philosophy that was about to shape the lives of both our sons. The boys had to go to college no matter what, because some day they would have wives and families and they needed to support them properly. What about the girls? Well, someday they should have husbands with educations that would allow them to support their families. If the girls went to college, great! But it wasn't vital in my mind like it was vital for the boys to go. Although they were both talented athletes with good grades, there were no scholarships for talented athletes with good grades. Then one day they came home and said that there were scholarships available for boys with good characters. Bingo!

The Army turned out to be such a good fit for them. One of their first challenges was to compete for a medal that required weeks of practice and tests. One hundred young men from their unit started the challenge. Three finished. Two were our sons.

The next big challenge was Ranger school - a test of endurance so challenging that men had lost their lives during it's course. To successfully graduate, a soldier has to prove himself capable of operating effectively under conditions of extreme mental and physical stress. And that doesn't come close to describing the physical endurance requirements, the sleep deprivation, and the sustained austere conditions they endure plus all the ways they can fail including, at the conclusion of the hardest 61 days of their lives, when they can be peered out. In other words, someone in each unit, after all their sacrifice and effort, is voted out. Both boys proudly wear Ranger tabs on their left shoulders.

I was determined to write this post without sounding like I was bragging but it seems like everything I write is bragging. It's not. I'm just telling you how it is. The Army was a great fit for both of them.

They both have Bachelors and Masters degrees and have taken advantage of just about every training opportunity that the Army offers. They've lived in or trained in dozens of locations in the United States - many together for awhile - mostly separated lately.

They have the most beautiful families you could imagine. Loving wives who sacrifice so much while their husbands are away and then open their arms and lovingly, gratefully embrace them when they return. Their children are all awesome and part of the reason has to be that their dads were never satisfied to be less than an integral part of their lives. They both have fine homes in lovely neighborhoods and both have beautifully renovated every property they've ever owned. They're very important in their families.

And they're very important in their jobs. They do things that the normal citizen could not begin to fathom. And their careers so far have been stellar with promotions we could only have dreamed of and experiences unparalleled in a normal lifetime.

So when I write a post like this or like this, I'm trying to say that I'm sad that they're making such an enormous sacrifice in being deployed. But what I should also be saying is that I'm proud beyond measure of our amazing sons. I'm proud of what they do and how stoically and conscientiously they do it. And I'm proud that they embrace yet another difficult challenge with one thought - there's a job that needs to be done well and he's the man to do it.

And that's how it came to be that I'm baking cookies tonight and tomorrow I'll send one box to Afghanistan and one to Iraq.

You Capture - Sweet

Beth's You Capture subject this week was sweet and to tell the truth, I've felt so lousy all week that I just couldn't think where I might find sweet to photograph.

Then I spied the first and only bloom on my slow and seldom blooming Christmas cactus. It looked like a sign to me. What's sweeter than a flower. So I tried to capture it.

I tried different angles and different lighting and I really never felt like I did it justice but I couldn't spend a lot of time on it because I had an important project to finish. A sweet project for my son in Iraq. Cookies. Here's the beginning of the dough - just two kinds of sugar and sweet butter.

Here's a batch ready for the oven.

And here's my double batch of Starlight Mint Surprise cookies ready to be packed up and shipped far away.

And do you know what the sweetest part of the whole project was? While I was baking these cookies for my firstborn Army son, he surprised me with a phone call from Iraq. And it just doesn't get any sweeter than that.

For more sweet photos (and maybe stories) go to Beth's Ishouldbefoldinglaundry.

An E-mail From Iraq

I sent Dan an email, really? Was it yesterday? I thought it was at least two days ago - maybe even a little more. But I just double-checked and, no, it was just about 24 hours ago. So for that 72 hours since yesterday at this time, he's been even more on my mind than usual though that doesn't really seem possible.

I get pretty anxious for that reply but I don't want him to feel that the minute he hears from me, he has to answer. And I try not to write back immediately because I don't want him to feel that he owes me a reply all the time. I want him to be as relaxed as possible with no pressure from me.

So I hold off writing for at least a day (although now I wonder if it's only an hour since where Iraq is concerned, time is so skewed for me). Once I write to him, I start anticipating.

And then he writes.

I wish I could describe the emotion that I feel because it's overpowering. I feel choked up with happiness that I heard from him. I'm grateful that he sent his address and that he actually told me a couple of things we could send him - chocolate of any kind and a soft, heavy blanket. Oh how I love that he told me that.

And then he includes a little bit of Dan humor at the end and it makes me so nostalgic. It's always subtle and it's always funny.

And he tells us that conditions are pretty bad but he's been in worse and I muse, "does he mean during the invasion? probably". So I know it's pretty not great there but he adds that he's really busy and that's good because time goes faster. He's looking at the bright side but I'm starting to resent that my son has to wish for time to go faster. This is his life.

But before I get too resentful, I think about how proud I am of what he and his brother do and how much pride they take in their jobs. They know how important they are even if not everyone else does. And the jobs have to be done. So I'm also proud that they step up. They don't just put in the time - they work hard and they work well.

So it's a happy woman writing this post. And guess what? Only about 11 months and 3 days to go.

I Have To Admit I'm Getting Better

I get emails pretty regularly from Firstborn Army Son in Iraq. That helps so much.

I finished my clear liquid diet and the craziest thing is that it worked. I feel a lot better even though my doctor wouldn't prescribe even one single pill no matter how much I thought he should. So that's all good.

And, after being inspired by some of the cast of Shrinking Jeans like Bacardi Mama and by Sharon from Mom Generations (and her 5k runs), I actually got out and walked tonight.

It was cold, and so was I, but I'm so glad I went. There were a couple of really neat things going on. One was a little, busy group of ducks. They swam quickly, bobbing on the waves and zigzagging all over the place. Then I noticed that the size of the group varied constantly and it was because they spent so much time diving underwater. Here is a series of pictures taken within about a ten second span:

They were such a busy, important little group that I decided not to disturb them further.

Next I found the swans' nesting spot.

And I saw this muskrat:

And this sunset:

And then I went home, frozen, but exhilarated that I'd finally felt good enough to get out and start walking.