Grocery Store Fun

Who knew going to the grocery store would ever:

a) Be the highlight of my day.

b) Require 1 hour of preparation.

c) Make me feel like a million bucks after I successfully conquered this task.

Today I needed to go to the grocery store. Simple, right? Well with my hubby away right now, a trip to the grocery store meant that I would be taking along my two little munchkins. And after the boys had a meltdown at Target last night (I just meant to go the post office, but decided at the spur of the moment to head to Target, too–bad call on my part), I was a little nervous about the grocery store.

But I fed the little guys, changed them, and popped them in their car seats. Thank goodness, they promptly passed out on the way to Trader Joe’s. And here’s how I made the rest of the trip a success.

1) I made a good list. Essential in my mind whether you have twins or not!

2) I parked near the cart return. This was much more important than being close to the door–parking near the cart return meant that I had easy access to the carts which I used to put Miles in.

3) Rather than use the stroller in the store, I used my Maya wrap to hold Ollie (who is the lighter sleeper), and I put Miles in the carseat in the cart. This worked out SO well! I’ll definitely be using this setup again!

I still haven’t quite gotten used to all the attention we get. It’s nice most of the time, but the exact same conversation I’m having with everyone is starting to get a bit old…it goes something like this:

Stranger: Ahhh…twins! Or sometimes “Are they twins?” No…I just have two babies exactly the same size that I’m carting around in matching outfits in a double stroller…

Me: Yes.

Stranger: Two boys or two girls or one of each?

Me: Two boys.

Stranger: Are they identical?

Me: No. Look at them…do they LOOK identical? Sometimes this comment is even proceeded with “They look so different! Are they identical?” at which point I usually start to question the common man’s understanding of the word “identical”.

Stranger: How old are they?

Me: Six weeks.

Stranger: Well they are so cute! Which I’m pretty sure they would say even if I had ugly babies…

Me: Thanks!

I know, I know, people are just trying to be nice…and most of the time, I don’t mind these interactions…and when my hubby is gone, I welcome a reason to chat with another adult. But sometimes, I don’t really want to hear about your cousin’s sister-in-law’s set of twins who can’t stand to be apart from one another or your great aunts Bertha and Betsy who were twins and died within five minutes of each other. Really, I just want to buy some milk in peace! But I guess I better get used to it..after all they’re only six weeks old!

Government shutdown?

To add to the stress of having twins in the NICU and a husband away on training, it looks like the Hubby’s paycheck may be on hold, too! Yikes. I’m really hoping that this gets resolved today, but just in case it isn’t, I thought I’d post some of the best links I’ve found for all you fellow military spouse readers out there for coping with life without a paycheck (not to mention life without some of the other services we’re used to–like the commissary!).

National Military Family Association-Governement Shutdown-What Military Families Need to Know

SpouseBUZZ-But What About Pay?

The Happy Housewife-How to Survive on Half Your Military Pay

The Happy Housewife- Short Term Loans for Active Duty

Hopefully we won’t need to use any of this advice or these resources, but I think it’s good to know the facts! Let’s all keep our fingers crossed that this is sorted out today!

On that note, I’m off to the NICU! Have a great day everyone!

 

Que Sera, Sera

It’s no secret that preparing for a baby, especially your first, is a pretty emotional journey. There are all sorts of questions. When is the baby going to come? What’s labor going to be like? To medicate or not to medicate? Will everything be ready? Will the baby be a fussy? colicky? happy? sleepy? Will we able to get the baby on a routine? Will we ever sleep again after the baby is born? The list goes on and on…

Twins brings on a whole new list of questions, concerns, and emotions…especially now that I know they’re trying to escape! Will I go into preterm labor? If I do, will they be able to stop it? Will the babies make it to 37 weeks? If they come earlier, will they be healthy? Will their lungs be developed? Will they have to stay in the NICU (neonatal intensive care unit)? How big will they be? Will I be able to take them home from the hospital with me? Once again, the list goes on and on…

Now, throw on the whole “military wife” layer, and that adds another list of questions, concerns, and a whole lot more emotion! The biggest question–the one that’s looming in my mind right now? Will my hubby be here when I have these babies? Right now, he’s scheduled to be on a training thing right through the middle 2/3 of my third trimester. Needless to say, this makes me a wee bit nervous. As soon as I go into labor, he can come home, but once again…who knows when that might be! And who knows whether or not he’ll have enough time to get home. I think my mom is going to come stay with me while he’s gone, but it’s still pretty scary to think of going through all these crazy scenarios without him here.

This probably goes without saying, but all theses uncertainties make this girl, who loves to plan and be in control, pretty insane. But I’m trying to remain positive. As Doris Day would say, “Que Sera, Sera,” right?

What Military Wives Are Made Of.

So this little story has been making the rounds on facebook (originally written by Paige Anderson Swiney in Chicken Soup for the Military Wife’s Soul) the last few days, and thankfully, many of these things haven’t applied to my military spouse experience (yet!). But I thought some of you who don’t know what it’s like to be a military spouse might appreciate the insight! Let me know what you think!

————————————————————–

It was just another harried Wednesday afternoon trip to the commissary (grocery store on military bases). My husband was off teaching young men to fly. My daughters were going about their daily activities knowing I would return to them at the appointed time, bearing, among other things, their favorite fruit snacks, frozen pizza, and all the little extras that never had to be written down on a grocery list. My grocery list, by the way, was in my 16-month-old daughter’s mouth, and I was lamenting the fact that the next four aisles of needed items would wait while extracting the last of my list from my daughter’s mouth, when I nearly ran over an old man.

This man clearly had no appreciation for the fact that I had 45 minutes left to finish the grocery shopping, pick up my 4-year old from tumbling class, and get to school, where my 12-year-old and her carpool mates would be waiting.

I knew men didn’t belong in a commissary, and this old guy was no exception. He stood in front of the soap selection staring blankly, as if he’d never had to choose a bar of soap in his life. I was ready to bark an order at him when I realized there was a tear on his face.

Instantly, this grocery aisle roadblock transformed into a human…”Can I help you find something?” I asked. He hesitated, and then told me he was looking for soap.

“Any one in particular?” I continued.

“Well, I’m trying to find my wife’s brand of soap.” I started to loan him my cell phone to call her when he said, “She died a year ago, and I just want to smell her again.”

Chills ran down my spine. I don’t think the 22,000-pound Mother of all Bombs could have had the same impact. As tears welled up in my eyes, my half-eaten grocery list didn’t seem so important. Neither did fruit snacks or frozen pizza.

I spent the remainder of my time in the commissary that day listening to a man tell the story of how important his wife was to him — how she took care of their children while he served our country. A retired, decorated World War II pilot who flew missions to protect Americans still needed the protection of a woman who served him at home.

My life was forever changed that day. Every time my husband works too late or leaves before the crack of dawn, I try to remember the sense of importance I felt that day in the commissary.

Some times the monotony of laundry, housecleaning, grocery shopping, and taxi driving leaves military wives feeling empty — the kind of emptiness that is rarely fulfilled when our husbands come home and don’t want to or can’t talk about work.

We need to be reminded, at times; of the important role we fill for our family and for our country. Over the years, I’ve talked a lot about military spouses…how special they are and the price they pay for freedom too. The funny thing is; most military spouses don’t consider themselves different from other spouses. They do what they have to do, bound together not by blood or merely friendship, but with a shared spirit whose origin is in the very essence of what love truly is. Is there truly a difference? I think there is. You have to decide for yourself…

Other spouses get married and look forward to building equity in a home and putting down family roots. Military spouses get married and know they’ll live in base housing or rent, and their roots must be short so they can be transplanted frequently.

Other spouses decorate a home with flair and personality that will last a lifetime. Military spouses decorate a home with flare tempered with the knowledge that no two base houses have the same size windows or same size rooms.

Curtains have to be flexible and multiple sets are a plus. Furniture must fit like puzzle pieces.

Other spouses have living rooms that are immaculate and seldom used. Military spouses have immaculate living room/dining room combos. The coffee table got a scratch or two moving from Germany, but it still looks pretty good.

Other spouses say goodbye to their spouse for a business trip and know they won’t see them for a week. They are lonely, but can survive. Military spouses say good-bye to their deploying spouse and know they won’t see them for months, or a year, or longer. They are lonely, but will survive.

Other spouses, when a washer hose blows off, call Maytag and then write a check out for having the hose reconnected. Military spouses have to cut the water off and fix it themselves.

Other spouses get used to saying “hello” to friends they see all the time. Military spouses get used to saying “goodbye” to friends made the last two years.

Other spouses worry about whether their child will be class president next year. Military spouses worry about whether their child will be accepted in yet another school next year and whether that school will be the worst in the city…again.

Other spouses can count on spouse participation in special events…birthdays, anniversaries, concerts, football games, graduation, and even the birth of a child. Military spouses only count on each other; because they realize that the flag has to come first if freedom is to survive. It has to be that way.

Other spouses put up yellow ribbons when the troops are imperiled across the globe and take them down when the troops come home. Military spouses wear yellow ribbons around their hearts and they never go away.

Other spouses worry about being late for mom’s Thanksgiving dinner. Military spouses worry about getting back from Japan in time for dad’s funeral.

The television program showing an elderly lady putting a card down in front of a long, black wall that has names on it touches other spouses. The card simply says, “Happy Birthday, Sweetheart. You would have been sixty today.” A military spouse is the lady with the card, and the wall is the Vietnam Memorial.

I would NEVER say military spouses are better than other spouses. But I will say there is a difference. I will say, without hesitation, that military spouses pay just as high a price for freedom as do their active duty husbands and wives.

Perhaps the price they pay is even higher. Dying in service to our country isn’t near as hard as loving someone who has died in service to our country, and having to live without them.

God bless our military spouses for all they freely give.