"I suck"

Yesterday we celebrated Austin's 6th birthday with three of his friend's at the movie theatre (we saw Megamind 3D), followed by cake and iceream at our house. Our time with these boys was nothing short of amusing. Zach and I laughed numerous times as we listened to them interact. On the way to the movies, one boy kept saying "I suck. I suck." After trying to reassure him that he is a wonderful boy and he in fact is far from sucky, he looke at me with a confused expression and held his hands up in despair, "No. I'm stuck." He was in fact stuck, as his velcro on his gloves had become firmly attached to each other.

Watching them during the movie was simply hilarious. As things appeared to pop out of the screen, all of their little hands would reach up. Music would come on, and they would all jam out. Popcorn was everywhere. At one point, Austin sweetly snuck into the row Zach and I were sitting in (which was just behind them) and said "I really want to sit next to dad."

It's so nice to see that he is growing up into a kind and considerate human being. He has one of the biggest and kindest hearts I know. It was simply amazing to watch him interact with children his own age. Austin is always a wonderful and generous friend... even in the company of his brothers (I'm enjoying that while it lasts). 

(From left to right: Nolan, Collin, Aiden and Austin)

Anna the Bernard

Since I can remember, I have longed for a big furry companion. A huge dog with huge paws and a dog that if I ever had kids, could serve as a horse if need be. Luckily, I fell in love with a boy who shared those dreams (that's how we keep the magic alive). We talked to Zach's mom and she mentioned a lady that was looking to find her Saint Bernard a family.

Last night, after coveting the dog for a week or more, we went to see Anna, the Saint Bernard. She is absolutely beautiful. . Our first impression of her was walking through the door and she rolled onto her belly, ready for love. Not a great guard dog, but we're looking for a companion.... not something to kill on command. I have full confidence that next Halloween, we can put Wyatt in a cowboy costume and put a saddle on Anna without issues. I can't wait!

We started our search for a home a bit ago, but now we are going full force so that we can house our dog (our current land lords are kind of a buzz kill when it comes to animals). I know, I know. Its' a bit backwards. We thought we could maybe hide from the landlord for a little bit... but she might be tricky to hide.

Our deadline for a home is Christmas and we would hopefully be moved in by New Years. What little boys wouldn't love a dog for Christmas?

Today I am thankful for

snuggling. I can't stress enough how nice it is to wake up to a boy resting on either side of me, snuggling and warming their ice cold feet on my legs. Sometimes, they just lay there and smile at me, just as happy to be in that moment as I am. I talk about this a lot because it embodies my new found source of happiness. Just little things.

I find that after coming home from a drill weekend, I appreciate them and our moments ten times more. Everything is more precious, because I've been dealing with nothing but unpleasantness but all weekend and being surrounded by 3 happy boys is practically breath taking.

This morning, I was sandwiched between Austin and Wyatt. Austin had fallen fast asleep after snuggling in between me and Zach, but Wyatt just laid there smiling, happy to be sharing that moment with me. We snuck down stairs after he warmed his freezing hands on my belly and his little polar bear feet on my legs (my own fault for wearing shorts). We came down stairs and we just talked. Our conversations are simple, mostly me guessing at what he says and him agreeing to absurd things that we both know he didn't say. Example,

"How are you doing this morning buddy?"
"Good. Garbldigook."
"Did you just say there is a pancake doing a dance in the snow outside?"
"Yep."
"I thought so."


I used to be inclined to sleeping in as late as possible. Now, I'm afraid if I don't get up, I'll miss time with the boys that I can't bear to lose. Not to mention, their infatuation with making their own breakfasts (a bowl of Cheetos anyone?)

Poor buddies

Last night was the second time in a week that I have seen blood drip, gush and pour out of one of the boys heads. Last week, Wyatt was the victim and the culprit was a wound right on the top of his head... accidentally inflected by me. I cried probably harder than he did... and probably had more blood on me than on him. Wyatt's wound was quickly rectified and a little bit of hot chocolate and tender loving care was the antidote.

However, last night, as I watched blood poor out of William's mouth (this time I was to far away to be blamed), I was more scared than anything. What I think happened was he was trying to climb up the stairs to get to Zach, but face planted instead cutting through his tongue (as seen in the picture). He bled all over me, Zach and himself. I rushed the boys out the room. Austin has a history of fainting at the sight of blood. Just a couple of weeks ago, he had a small scratch with hardly any blood and he was pale and clammy.

Zach ended up bringing the little guy to the hospital. To get William to show the doctors his tongue, Zach told him it was kind of like a snake tongue. He couldn't wait to show Wyatt and Austin, and did so as soon as he came through the door. Austin opted to go to bed instead of risking to see William's "snake" tongue again. I have to admit, I'd rather not see it either.

Besides his snake tongue, William also came home with an adorable lisp. Everything he says is so much funnier, and I know that makes me a bit awful, if not more than a bit.

My mom told me after Wyatt's injury that it will be the first of many. Unfortunately, that is probably going to be far more true than I would like. i have three boys, and none of them show any sign of slowing down or being delicate anytime soon...

Pumpkin Picking

Here are a couple of pictures from our pumpkin picking escapades:

One hundred, thirty thousand and forty fun

"Jacki, today was really special to me. Thank-you!"- Austin.

And indeed, today was a special day. This week we were invited to go trick or treating early (beat the system so to speak) at Zach's work in one of the dorm rooms (Zach works at a college). It was a dress rehearsal of sorts for Sunday, the real Halloween.

I think I've said this before, but everyday I fall more in love with these boys. Today, all dressed up in their costumes (pictures after sunday!), they were absolutely precious. Every little thing they said and did just made me laugh. Wyatt with his grumpy little face, Austin with his jokes and voice, and William's whole outfit did me in everytime.

Tonight, we got to trick or treat, decorate cookies and the boys entered a coloring contest. The coloring contest was Austin's favorite. He was sure that whoever was judging the contest was watching his every move and he was getting points for every little thing. Drawing fast. Coloring hard. Using the just the right colors. And he's also quite sure that the prize is an airplane...

And it was when we got back to our car, after all of the excitement, that Austin told me that today was really special to him. Such a simple thing to say and so powerful, really. It literally made my heart melt. Such a sweetheart.

We got home, showered and bathed and I put the three of them to bed. Austin told me just before I left his room, "Jacki... I really did have one hundred, thirty thousand and forty fun tonight!"

And hearing things like those makes everything worth it and definitely makes for a special day.

I love my life, and I feel like I am pretty lucky to be able to say that.

Saturdays are the best days

Years ago, I could never pinpoint my favorite day. I knew for sure it wasn't Mondays. Now I can say, without question, that Saturdays are my favorite of days. Every other Saturday, we get our boys back. I miss them as soon as they are gone and I am always so happy to see them. I always tell them "It is so nice to have noise here again!"

They always laugh. But it's true. Our home is quiet without my three little noise makers. Without them tinkering with their toys or clobbering each other (because that's what little boys do) or making bigger messes than I ever knew was possible, our house is nearly silent.

I've heard a time or two "I don't know how you put up with all of the noise!" I put up with the noise, because it is much better than the alternative.

On most Saturdays, Zach doesn't work. We can have uniterrupted family time. And we do. Like this Saturday, we took William and Wyatt to what we think was their first movie. Despicable Me. It was touch and go at first, loud noises and dark rooms are typically frightening (especially to the youngest (and biggest scaredy cat)). But sitting on our laps and cuddling did the trip.

I have terrified that William had to much to drink and wouldn't let me know he had to go to the bathroom and go "code 1" all over me. Fortunately it went the opposite way. Approximately every 10 minutes, he took a bathroom break for a total of 9 bathroom breaks. I counted. 

After the movie, we went shopping for their Halloween costumes. I'm witholding the results until they can be accompanied by pictures. Needless to say, they all look adorable. Or excuse me... super cool.

Hope everyone is well!

Jacki

Days like today

Days like today are some of the hardest. Most days, I can sit back and giggle at the silly and random things that spew out of their mouths. I can soak in the hugs and numerous kisses that these three little boys shower me with. Most days, I can think to myself "There is nowhere I would rather be than in this moment.

Unfortunately, days like today happen. And unfortunately, they will contiune to happen and I have no control. It's the loss of control that scares me.

Maybe I should give you some backround.

I am the boys Jacki. I am the one who gets them ready in the morning, packs Austin school lunch, buys their clothes, gives them baths, feeds them, and reads them their stories when they are slowly drifting into sweet dreams. I am the one who comforts them and kisses their owies and listens to them sing their made up songs.

I tell the oldest, Austin, almost everyday how lucky he is to have sooo many people that love him. I say "Just think. You have a Jacki that acts and loves you like a mom and you have a mom!"

It's the times in their life that I'm not there that make days like today a little bit difficult. Sometimes, just like today, I have to hear them tell me things that I would never let happen when I was caring for them. I have to hear them say words and sing songs that are not appropriate for boys of their age, or for boys as precious as them. Most times I listen to them tell me these things, and my stomach drops and almost always my heart aches.

All I can do, on days like today, is tell them "I can't control what happens when I am not there, but at Jacki and Daddy's home, we don't say things like that. It just doesn't sound very nice. " Its the loss of control that is the most frightening. I can't save them from what I have no control over.

You are the adult.

"Hey Jacki... do you think we could fill up a huge pool that we could jump into from the tree house?" - Austin.

"That doesn't really sound all that safe, buddy." Me.

"I know. That's because it isn't. But it's a great way to escape!" - Austin.

I have to let you in on a little secret, from one adult to another. For a split second, I thought, "Hey that would be fun!" I was trying to figure out how to make it work. Maybe a trampoline would be better? And then I thought ... wait a minute... Jacki. You are the adult. And that's where the very responsible "that doesn't sound very safe, buddy" came from.

It's been interesting, watching this transformation from being an ordinary twenty year old to responsible mom of three happen. It's not like me being a mom is unexpected to those who know me. Let's face it, I was dreaming of being a grandma long before. You have to be a mom to be a grandma. I'd like to think it's the grace of transition. It just feels so natural to me. I think that is what is so stunning, in my eyes.

It's been a day... or more

Hello all.

It's been a bit... a long bit. I've been busy jumping back into my life, well, my new one that is. I came home and moved to Mankato to live with my wonderful boyfriend (who is now my fiance) and his beautiful 3 boys.

I instantly fell in love with Austin, William and Wyatt. They were so precious, so perfect. Everyday they let me get closer, and gave me more love than I could have ever expected. Everday they continue to shower me with more love and more laughs, and I won't lie and say that I don't love it. I love every minute of my beautiful life.

In August, I started school. I was shocked to see myself thrive in something that I thought I had given up on. Truth is, I went back to school to set an example for those boys. I can't expect them to push through and persevere at school, if I had never done the same. And so, here I am, enrolled in college and thriving.

And then, the ultimate gift happened in September. Zach proposed to me, and asked for me to spend forever with him and Austin and William and Wyatt. And I, of course, said yes. This is where I was meant to be. With them, being loved and giving love in return.

And so, I've been a bit busy. And this is a brief, brife overview of the life I'm leading and the people I'm loving. But I think I'll hop back into this blogging thing. And I think you'll learn to love them too.

<3 Jacki

Dear Basrah

Dear Basrah,

I will not miss you. I will not miss your sand in my eyes, ears and knows. I will not miss your fecal matter-ridden flies, that like to go in the same places your damn sand does. I will not miss the rancid smell of garbage, burning or not, the smell of sewer or any other foul smell I have come to associate with you. I will not miss your rabid dogs or cats ridden with God only knows what diseases. I will not miss your summer weather, but I'll admit I might miss your winter weather, but only a bit. I will not miss your neighbors that party into all hours of the night, sometimes getting their confetti on our side.

I will not think of you fondly and I probably won't be able to muster up any tears when I leave you (which I hope is VERY soon). I hope that's ok. You have been a thorn in my side and I hope to never see you or your brothers again. I hope you understand, that's it's you not me.

Sincerely, Me.

What about us?

As of right now, we should have been out of here approximately 7544 minutes ago. I would have been home today, with my hair down and a pair of blue jeans on. My family would have been reunited after our year of seperation. Iraq should have been only a memory by now... instead, it's still my reality.

For the second time this week, I have packed and unpacked my bags. Just yesterday, at 1030 in the morning, the 12 Redbulls that stayed behind to escort the remaining cargo home were told to be prepared to leave early the next morning. Our bags were to be ready to go by 1530, when we would have another meeting to plan the logistics of what would happen in the next 12 hours.

My bags were packed. I was actually starting to think I'd be leaving, something I hadn't let myself think since the last time we were delayed. I was thinking, "By this time tomorrow, I'll be on a plane." It was at that meeting we were informed that our flight had been delayed, yet again. I immediately felt my chest tighten as I searched the eyes of the man who delivered the bad news. I was pretty confident that this was a joke. This had already happened before. But it wasn't a joke, and it surely wasn't funny.

Once again, my father and I had to inform my mom that we wouldn't be coming home as scheduled. That in fact, we would miss Valentine's Day, even though my dad had been gone weeks before this holiday last year.

I'm sure my family felt pretty similar to how I feel. I feel betrayed and angry, just as I had the first time I was told that I couldn't go home. I feel hopeless and helpless. There is nothing I can change to expedite my arrival home or nothign I can do to stop this from happening again. And at the root of everything, I feel a little forgotten. Not my friends and certainly not my family. By the rest of the soldiers that left here weeks ago, and forgot that someone stayed behind so that they wouldn't have to.

While the media, and even the 34th ID themselves, continues to claim that the final wave of Redbulls are coming home tomorrow, the remaining Redbulls are stuck to wonder "What about us?" Wouldn't it be nice, as my sister said, to celebrate when ALL of the Redbulls are home?

I know that 12 doesn't seem like a huge number, especially when you compare it to the 4,000 soldiers that are home or are within in a day of being home. But that's 12 soldiers and there families and friends that are awaiting their arrival home. It's another week of life on standstill as our families hold their breath. Another couple of days of them dreading phone calls from us, because we just might inform them of yet another delay.

Please continue to keep the remaining Redbulls and their families in your thoughts and prayers.

Some thoughts from little Jacki

I just happened upon this today. I wrote this for my college writing class my senior year (2008). Thought I'd share some thoughts of little Jacki...


Since the end of my first trimester junior year, plans of prank-filled escapades lasting far past twilight and lethargic days of sleeping until the sun had reached the top of the blue sky had been conspired. Those simple indulgences were the solitary guarantees I had at that moment in time: a happy-go-lucky summer spent in the company of my best friends making memories that would endure a lifetime.

I had even composed a summer checklist of kooky things that I hoped to complete before returning for my senior year. Stupid stuff, like fully encompass a close friend's house in mass amounts of cheap, white toilet paper. The home that had once been adjacent to a perfectly manicured lawn would be disguised as a winter wonderland in the heart of summer.

Those plans fell through my tender 17 year-old hands when I made the impulsive decision to join the Army National Guard in early February. My mind never fully comprehended what I was getting myself into or how much I would have to sacrifice. Instead, those things were overlooked in an effort to be unique (go where none of my friends had dared to go) and to live a life that was unexpected and exhilarating. That dazzling allure was what drew me in.

Instead of a carefree summer like I had intended, my time would be spent in the intense South Carolina heat that usually reached over 100 degrees on a good day. The unbearable temperature did not include the high humidity, which usually was the main contributor to my sweat-soaked uniforms. I never knew before joining what it felt like to take something as insignificant as a shower for granted or to know the true joy that erupted at the sight of mail time. A single letter from home could make an otherwise joyless day.

My homecoming from basic training fell towards the end of August. I had spent an entire summer away from my security blanket of close friends and family. My return was filled with uncertainty, because I felt like I had changed drastically over the summer.

My return was simple. I quickly adapted to my old life, and began to get in the groove of things. Lost time with my friends was quickly made up, and it almost felt like I had never left.

However, like most people who had encountered a life-altering experience, I had discovered how important it was to appreciate the small things. Small things like fighting with my brother, driving my beater car (which I callously refer to as "Rosie"), or even watching a side-splitting movie on a Friday night. Those simple things were what I had yearned for this summer. This resulted in an internal stuggle not to tell my friends my exact feelins when they complained about trivial things. They could have it so much worse, but they need their own experience to verify what I already know to be true.

The realization has hit us that this is our last year together, so time is of the essence. Soon, we'll be dispersed across the country, playing grown-up. They'll all be attending college. Two days following my high school graduation, I venture off to complete my second half of military training.

The second half of military training is referred to as Advanced Individual Training (AIT). This is where a soldier learns about his or her actual job. I am in HUMINT (human intelligence). My MOS is currently in high demand. I am guaranteed to be shipped to Iraq or the surrounding area within a year unless extenuating circumstances occur.

When I was a little more naïve, I believed my single guarantee for the future was that it would be a carbon copy of what my friends were doing. Now, my mind races as the meaning of two phrases flash through my mind: shipping out for AIT and the war in Iraq. That's my new solitary guarantee that I have for my future.

Best of luck and God bless

For the last two weeks or so, I’ve watched as my colleagues cleared out a year’s worth of items that have accumulated in their cubicles. The majority is tossed into the garbage, but trinkets and things that are to precious to be thrown so carelessly into the garbage are gently placed into a box. The last thing they put into their box is always their pictures of their loved ones. I can see their relunctancy to peel the pictures of their daughters, sons and wives from their walls and put them into a box. I’ve seen it be the last thing left a desk, a little girl missing her front teeth, holding up a sign that says “I love you.” Sometimes, a picture is gently placed into the person’s cargo pocket as they leave the office for the last time.

In the last couple of weeks, e-mails have started to be kicked back exclaiming, “I am currently in the process of demobolizing. In the future, please contact my counterpart for questions. Best of luck and god bless.”

I’ve watched my best friend here pack up his possessions, filling a duffle bag full of sandy uniforms and well worn boots. I watched him lock his door for the last time, and take off in the early hours of the morning.

Seeing this makes me awfully impatient to start making my journey home. In a matter of days, I’ll be clearing out my desk for good, slipping the two pictures I have on my desk, one of Aubrey with her hands on her hips and another of my mom and Aubrey at the pumpkin patch, into a box of my own. I’ll scrub my room of anything that made it mine, curtains with girly bows and a string of pictures of my family, best friends and of course millions of pictures of Aubrey. In 14 days, give or take, I’ll leave my toddler sized bed for my pillow top queen. In 19 days, give or take, I’ll exchange my uniform and holey boots for a pair of jeans and ballet flats.

I can’t wait to feel the gap that seperates me from snow covered Minnesota dwindle… it’s going to be a pretty wonderful feeling.