Breaking Ice & Making Nice

And Then We Danced

The CDR is gone again, this time for a four-month sojourn into the Arctic Circle. Shortly before he left, we hired a babysitter and went out for our last date night.

First stop: Indian food. When both of us are home, the CDR and I cook up some pretty tasty quasi-gourmet food, but we've not yet enticed the kids with our favorite ethnic cuisines like Thai, Indian, and Moroccan. So we ordered Chicken Tikka Masala and Lamb Saag, without skimping on the spice factor. It was delicious!

It was also nice to have a conversation without constant interruption or distraction. We've never had a problem with finding a topic to talk about, and we're not the kind of parents that constantly talk about our kids even when we are without them. So we covered a LOT of ground in our brief meal - among the various topics were the situation in Zimbabwe, the upcoming presidential election, the CDR's recent officer evaluation report (stellar, by the way), my grand plan for raising thousands of dollars for arts education this year, and how much is enough when it comes to charitable giving.

After we'd sated our stomachs, we headed over to the mall and the CDR played personal shopper in my quest to find a dress for a wedding that I'm going to this weekend. Now, you may think that this does NOT sound like the ideal date night for a typical guy, and you're probably right. But the CDR is no typical guy. This is a guy who sewed his own kilt. His own tuxedo. This is a guy who perfectly alters my clothes - for free! Call him a geek, if you will (he certainly would), but this man comes in quite handy when you're looking for a great outfit. And the best part of bringing my husband, personal shopper extraordinaire, is the magic moment.

What is the magic moment? It's the moment when my husband's eyes light up as I come around the corner of the dressing room, and I just know I've found a keeper. On this night, it was a strapless floral sheath dress from Ann Taylor Loft:

The CDR's eyes sparkled as he saw me in this dress. He reached for my hand, drew me in close to his body, and then we danced. We fell into a gentle one-step, two-step, rock-step as a bluesy, romantic ballad played throughout the store. As we slowly glided across the floor, we sensed a few of the sales associates nudging each other and pointing in our direction. One of them walked up as the song ended and said, "I think this one's a keeper."

She's right. This one is my husband, my love, my dearest friend and my great inspiration. He is, among so many other things, definitely a keeper.

A Tale of Two Homecomings, or...

...I really suck at blogging.

Yes, folks, I'm back, and once again sincerely apologetic for the complete absence of posts in the last four weeks. I am full of good intentions, but they get lost somewhere between "I should update my blog tonight" and "I totally forgot the premiere of Samantha Who? is tonight!" (FYI, I wasn't as impressed as I wanted to be, but I do adore Melissa McCarthy and Jennifer Esposito so I'm giving it a few weeks to grow on me. Unlike Big Shots, which I could no longer bear after the first 15 minutes. I have heard that Pushing Daisies is totally worth watching, so I may add that to my TiVo Season Pass Manager.)

I digress.

This post is about homecomings - two, to be exact. The first happened on September 30, that disgustingly cold and rainy but emotionally beautiful day when the CDR returned home from the final eight-week phase of "Arctic West Summer 2007." We were all excited to welcome the CDR back to our new(ish) home, but most obviously Mo. It was hard to ignore his shrill toddler cries of "Hi, Daddy!" as the ship slowly approached the pier, and he looked adorable in his bright yellow rain slicker (Mo calls it his "firefighter jacket"). So it was no surprise when the media microphones and cameras flocked to our family like bugs to a bulb. But hey, we did get some adorable video footage and photography out of the deal.

Official Coast Guard Photo by Chief Petty Officer Paul Roszkowski

Our second homecoming was October 4-6 in Connecticut for the CDR's 15-year United States Coast Guard Academy reunion. It was nice and all, but the true joy came in watching CGA Women's Volleyball and seeing friends that we left earlier this year (missing immensely all the while). I'm having trouble making friends out here, so it was really nice to reconnect with people who really know me.

Before heading back west, the CDR and I escaped for a three-day, two-night stay at my favorite place on earth, Mohonk Mountain House.

Photo courtesy Mohonk Mountain House

My old boss, Mike, turned me on to Mohonk and I will be forever grateful. Have you ever seen Dirty Dancing? It's like Kellerman's, but BETTER. Way better. It's an all-inclusive resort situated on a nature preserve, and the grand hotel is a National Historic Landmark. We ate amazing gourmet food, went hiking, toured a CSA (community-supported agriculture) farm, snuggled up with blankets and books in the rocking chairs on our private porch, went horseback riding, and more. They recently added a luxurious spa, which we enjoyed (at an extra price, but totally worth it). Mohonk is so expensive, but can I just tell you how amazing it was to have a couple of days to spend with my husband, reconnecting after a long separation? I encourage everyone whose spouse gets underway, even for a few weeks, to try and do a sans-children reconnect after each trip. It doesn't have to be an overnight - maybe it's just a date night - but it made a significant difference in our relationship.

Now we're back in Seattle, settling into a new family routine that will last until February, when the underway fun begins anew. We're still in the adjustment process. The CDR has figured out most of the new consequences, meal preferences, favorite toys, effective bribes, etcetera. But every now and then, he notices something else. "Hey, nice pajamas, Mo! When did you get those?" (spoken just a few nights ago). Like I say, Mama Gotsta Shop. And sea pay makes it all the easier. Aha! A bright side to deployment!

Lost & Found

When we first moved to Seattle, I found myself lost in almost every area of life.

In my career: Should I attempt to find a full-time publicist job? Cobble together part-time freelance writing/editing? Learn to love full-time stay-at-home parenthood?

In my personal life: How can I maintain a strong connection with the CDR during long separations? Suck up the guilt and drink caffeine, despite the fact that I’m still breastfeeding Kel? Help my homesick toddler Mo communicate his feelings without violence?

In the little things: Where is the nearest grocery store? A gym that offers free childcare? A reputable preschool? The best indoor playgrounds for dark, rainy days?

I have found answers to some of these questions. I’m drinking a half-caf latte every other day (God bless the Starbucks drive-thru). I know the three nearest grocery stores (God bless the suburbs). And I’ve found the local mall with the ideal indoor playground: A really big ship.

Every day that it rains (and some sunny ones in between), Mo asks if we can we go the mall and play on Daddy’s big ship. I get a little emotional every time Mo throws off his shoes, clambers aboard, and yells, “Mama, I’m the XO!” (That’s Daddy’s position on his ship.) Then my type-A toddler elaborates every detail of his departing procedure: The crane lifts up the brow, the people on deck pull in the lines, and the people on the bridge start the engine and pull away from the pier. It’s good, clean fun for everyone.

So, after three nights of very little sleep (constipated Kel), I ditched my good intention to attend church this morning and drove instead to the mall to let Mo have some playtime (and me, some downtime). We had been there only a few minutes when I realized that Kel’s constipation had offered him a reprieve… and a very dirty diaper. Not wanting to pull Mo away from his fun, I tucked myself between two strollers and changed Kel next to the play ship.

You know how people say that really important things can happen in an instant? Like falling in love or, in J.K.Rowling’s case, creating a seven-book series that would make her richer than the Queen of England? Well, after today, I think it’s true. It took only an instant for me to lose my toddler.

I finished changing Kel and looked up, fully expecting to see Mo in his typical spot atop the ship. He wasn’t there. I looked toward the stern of the ship, where there is a little slide. He wasn’t there, either. I then did a 360-degree walk-around of the play space. No Mo.

That’s when it hit me. He was gone. I had lost my beloved child. Anxiously, I looked down all three major corridors and established a plan. We had ridden the escalators earlier in the morning, so I made those my first priority. I quickly gave the other parents in the area a physical description, then asked them to keep an eye out for Mo while I headed toward the escalators. Two other moms offered to look with me, so we fanned out and started yelling my son’s name down every corridor.

It didn’t take long for someone to find him, but those few minutes felt like forever to me. As I scanned the escalator area, one of the other moms ran up and reported that a salesperson in Chico’s (upstairs and halfway down the mall) found my son wandering through the store. She brought him to mall security. Mall security brought him to me.

As I grabbed Mo out of the security guard’s arms and felt my tears soak Mo’s polo shirt, he looked concernedly at me and said, “Mama, I was missing you. Where did you go?”

Praise Jesus, my toddler is found. But God help me, I’m still a little lost. And I’m not sure where to go. But great comfort comes in knowing that wherever my life path may lead, my children will be there with me… Securely strapped in their stroller.

 

At a Loss

GiGi is dying, and the CDR is out to sea.

We knew when the CDR got underway two weeks ago that his grandmother's health was finally failing, but at the time we did not realize how quickly the end would come.

The CDR and GiGi are tight. This isn't just the grandmother who sends birthday checks and tells "I remember when" stories at Christmas. This is the grandmother who taught the CDR to sew buttons and hem pants, to roll out a flaky pie pastry and perfectly spice the filling, to milk goats and speak Spanish. (I owe a lot to this amazing woman.)

But now she is lying in a hospital bed, clinging to the last threads of a life exceptionally well-lived. The CDR's brother, who is with her at this very moment, does not think she will make it more than 48 hours.

It is possible, if a decision is made in the next 12 hours, that the CDR could turn the ship around and steam back close enough to land that their small boat could shuttle him back to shore. From there, it might take the CDR until Sunday evening or even Monday afternoon to get back to the Pacific Northwest. By then, it may be too late to say goodbye.

To miss this woman's earthly passing would be a devastating personal blow. But to leave the ship mid-deployment only to find that she has recovered could be an equally devastating professional blow.

How do I comfort my heartbroken husband from thousands of miles away? How do I help him decide between his personal grief and his professional standing? And, how do I silence the insistent voice within that beseeches GiGi to let go of her life so the CDR can get on with his?