It rains here all the time, regardless of the season.  But something about this rain was different.  This rain was...  fall.  I could sense it.  It was different.  And I had a really intense feeling of hope and optimism as I squinted through my wiper blades.

I think I should bake something.

I spend my free time doing chores, cooking, and browsing the web these days.  And my routine is getting quite boring.

It'll be nice to have something else going on.  I don't mind being a homebody at all.  I just like when there's another adult to do it with me.

No, not really.  I'll of course make it through all of this too.  I just feel like I am finally hitting a total wall and am ready for this to just be behind us.  I'd love nothing more than to sleep through the next month or so.

I can tell he is on the down-slope of it all, too.  We are bickering again, where we hadn't bickered at all the entire time he's been away.  The littlest things all seem so dramatic.  Eggshells abound.

Amaris is pinching my nerves.  Cadence is fussing more than usual.  I am exhausted and stressed out.  And no amount of sleep makes it feel any better.  Everything anybody says to me is subject to extreme scrutinization and potential blowing-out-of-proportion.

I'll survive.  I'll get through this.  I just need to relax and take things as they come.

Mark has been gone for more than four months and we did have a return window, which I was cautiously optimistic about...  But for the moment that window has been taken away and replaced with a giant question mark.  Which really makes me sad and disappointed.  I'm back to being utterly in the dark.  I don't know when he will be home.  Don't even have a clue.  And due to his specific situation right now, I don't even have a clue who to look to for answers about it.  Part of me just wishes he was messing with me and that he'd unexpectedly burst through the door at any moment.  And I'd probably pee my pants and spring up off the couch, Lucy III clattering to the floor, and run to him.  And it would be very classy - me wrapped around him completely with my frumpy pony tail, no bra, oversized t-shirt, dirty socks and pee-soaked yoga pants.  Does that not paint the loveliest picture?

It makes my heart hurt.  Amaris, lately, has really become obsessed with asking questions about him.  Where is he, what is he doing, when will he be home...  And it's exhausting because so frequently I don't know the answers.  How do you keep things simple when they aren't?  How do you explain to your three year old that daddy is far away in a dirty and ugly place doing a job that is dangerous but that fills him with love and pride?  How do you tell her that he'll be safely home again soon, but you don't know when?  She saw a Marine in his cammies one day last week while we were walking from the car to our building and she laughed and said, "Wookit, mommy, he's wearing daddy's."

Being a military wife sucks.  But I think being a military brat must suck even more.  And sometimes, I am thrilled that I brought my children into this lifestyle, with all of the pride and life experience and community that comes with it...  But other times, I feel guilty that my children are experiencing some of the things they face.  It seems so unfair for a child to have to deal with such grown-up things.

I know we'll all be fine.  But sometimes I do struggle and I do feel sad about it.  I guess I just hate to blog about all the sad things, so I haven't blogged at all.  I should get over that.

I'll admit I'm pretty disappointed.

Typhoon Morakot is heading this way - they anticipate we'll be experiencing it tomorrow and Friday!  I'll admit that the weather right now all by itself is rather exciting - the wind is blowing, the rain is coming in in patches...  It's a little like the anxiety I remember from being in labor.

I kept Amaris home from school today, and will most likely have her out for the rest of the week as well.  Tonight she is going to church with our neighbor and I'm certain that she will have a blast.

I ran errands this afternoon out of last-minute necessity and also to divert my attention.  I spoke with my grandma on the phone earlier today and got an update on my mom's situation.  The doctor seems to believe that it's most likely Alzheimer's.  Which, deep down, I knew.  I had been SAYING that right along.  But to hear somebody else, somebody who knows what he is talking about, say it...  That is different.  And a little bit heartbreaking.  All of these fears immediately arise - many of them selfish.  Ok, well, technically they could ALL be considered selfish.  But they're all very real and very harsh.

Will this be a hereditary concern for me and for my children?  When we return to America, will she remember us?  Will she recognize us?  Will any sort of treatment change the situation at all?  Or are we just doomed to be this way?  Will she never improve - only worsen - as time goes by?  Will this kill her?  Will I ever get any semblance of my mother back?  Or can I just count on the way things are being the way things will be, and that's that.

It's a little too much for me.  I'm trying to occupy my thoughts elsewhere but the truth is that I'm scared.

A little bit of good news (which I'm not ready to share yet - and no, it has nothing to do with more babies), and then a big piece of bad news.

Amaris turned three and despite her little bout with that fever she had on the 27th, we made the most of it. Tinkerbell cupcakes, tutus, and pedicures...  Looking back, even though I cancelled her party, she didn't go without by any means.

When Mark calls, he talks to Amaris on the phone.  She takes control of their phone conversations like a typical girl and rambles on and on about the goings-on in her day to day before cutting the chat off with an, "Ok I'll talk to you way-ter.  I wuv you daddy and I miss you, too.  Bye!"  I don't think he ever really gets a word in edgewise, poor guy.  When she hastily hands me back the phone, nine times out of ten, I am the one to hear his "I love you too!"  I don't tell him that, though.

The other day when he called, she proceeded to tell him "I lost my daddy and I need to go save him from the parking wot."  In Amaris' world, it seems that a lot of important things happen in "the parking wot."  He was quite saddened by her concern over having apparently misplaced him.  She tells me daily that "Daddy's in the 'reen corn."  And the 'reen corn is "Inna desert."  She's a bright little girl.

Cadence has been growing like a weed but more out than up these days and strangers in public can't help themselves when they see her, they just feel so compelled to clue me in on how "fat" she is.  Which pisses me off to no end.  She's not FAT, she's a baby.  Thankyouverymuch.  And she's adorable.  She looks more and more like her daddy every day.  Which is funny because she was born looking like me!  She has a lot of my personality, though.  She's not a people-person.  And when she's done crying over strangers getting in her face and trying to impress her, the fact that she is so introverted just totally cracks me up.  She is definitely the opposite of her social-butterfly big sister (whose personality is nearly identical to Mark's!)

They get along really well, though.  Amaris has taken to feeding Cadence her last bottle before bedtime each night and I think they both get a kick out of the sisterly snuggles that come with it.  Cadence is Amaris' waking thought most mornings and it's all I can do to keep her from bursting through her little sister's bedroom door each day to see if she's awake yet.

Life has been good lately.  Peaceful.  I can't complain aside from Mark's absence.  I miss him a lot.  It never really gets better.  Just more routine.  I write to him, I buy him goodies to fill care packages with, I hang on to every blissful moment we spend emailing or on the phone with each other.  And each day I feel this bittersweet anxiety about bedtime.  Getting the kids to bed each night is what I look forward to as my beautiful, peaceful milestone marking the end of another day...  But it also means that I'll soon be heading to bed myself.  Alone.  And that is less enticing.  I wake up sometimes in a position where I feel like I am naked because he is not alongside of me.  His pillow is cold.  His smell really doesn't even linger there anymore since all of the laundering of the sheets.  It makes me sad.  And a little hollow.  Some nights I am tempted to just sleep on the couch but I talk myself out of it (mostly to avoid the incessant buzz of the dehumidifier I'd be sharing a room with here in the living area...)

I know that before I know it, he'll be home again with me and all of this will seem so trivial.  But I think I felt it the most when he said on the phone, "It seems so much harder this time.."  It does.  Rightfully so.  During his previous trips, we weren't yet married.  Had no children.  Had lots to occupy our time (I had work and school, he had a different job that was a lot more intense).  Had California and all of it's familiarity and comfort.  Things this time are decidedly different.  And more difficult.

The cicadas are out across the island and their loud and crazy buzzing makes me feel like I am in the jungle.  Even though I tend to be surrounded by concrete, generally.  There is a lot that I love about this place.  (Not the cicadas, that was just a weird segue.)  I'm trying to take it all in and not worry about the rest.

Hopefully she feels good enough tomorrow to have cake and ice cream.

My new couch is here now, so I figure that this will be happening even more often.  Since my TV watching spot got infinitely more comfortable.  Vicious cycle, I'm telling you!

But on a brighter note, I'm almost out of sugary junk food and I got a recumbent bike.  So I should exercise more often too.  Maybe being a different size will motivate me to buy clothes IN the right size.

In the past few days, I have felt like I was going to lose my mind on more than one occasion.  Yesterday at the aquarium, I lost Amaris.  She vanished from the playground area and I spent an agonizing 15 minutes panicking over her.  While her friend (who was with her before that) kept saying "Someone took her!"  Finally she turned up two escalators down at the aquarium ticket counter.  Today I asked her "What happened to you yesterday, Amaris?"  She said, "I lost my mommy at the playground."  I said, "Did somebody take you or did you follow someone?"  "I followed."  "Did you cry?"  "Yeah, I cried."  "Were you scared?"  "I'm scared of robots."

Earlier today, Cadence woke up thoroughly annoyed for some unknown reason and it took me a long time to soothe her.  Weird because she is usually so easygoing.

Then just a bit ago, Amaris sat down at the table to eat her dinner and proceeded to vomit all over herself.  She immediately burst into tears and said, "MOMMY THERE'S SPIT ON ME!"

I'm feeling more than a little burned out.  I miss Mark beyond my ability to describe.  I miss everything.  I am frustrated and sad and lonely and surrounding myself with good, helpful, wonderful people doesn't even really dull the feeling all that much.  After the good times settle down, I go right back to feeling this way.  I'm just emotionally exhausted.

I did a really...  well, probably irresponsible thing today and bought a couch.  For under $1,000, it will be delivered and set up and my current (heinous) government furniture will be returned to the government furniture warehouse.  It's a beautiful couch.  I am looking forward to movie watching on it.  It has a right hand chaise.  I am already imagining Mark on the chaise and me spread out over the rest of it, my head in his lap, watching movies.  It will be good.  I can't wait.

Amaris had a great week at school.  Cadence ate her first solid food (avocado).  I shipped off FOUR big care packages to Mark, who got settled into a new location in the dump, with a new email address and all.  It's been an eventful week.

Trying to teach Amaris the celebration of Fridays, I took her out for ice cream.  She excitedly picked strawberry.  I got myself a scoop of red raspberry (I don't care for strawberry).  She took two bites and then decided mine looked better.  So I had a few bites of sorbet and then ended up relinquishing it to her and throwing away the strawberry scoop.  And I couldn't help thinking to myself that if Mark had been home, that would never have happened!  He'd have inhaled her little piddly scoop of strawberry ice cream without thinking twice!

I've been missing him a lot these days.  I don't think deployments ever get "better", really.  I don't buy into that.  I think they become routine, and that it makes it seem a little bit easier.  But realistically, there isn't a lot to call easy about the situation at all.

We went to a deployed spouse meeting last night.  I'll admit that my loser self is a bit eager to be involved and do volunteer work for the command.  I applied for that family readiness officer position when it opened up (and clearly didn't get it, I figure due to my lack of college experience), but honestly the more I think about it the happier I am that I was passed over.  I'd rather do it on a volunteer basis - come and go as I please, set my own hours and don't abandon my kids.  Till they are school-aged, I think that's really the only appropriate work for me.  It's not really about the money anyhow.  (As cheesy and cliche as that sounds!  Don't get me wrong, I'd definitely take compensation...  Just saying that I'd happily do the work [and have in the past] without monetary incentive.)

Anyways things are moving along.  Just trying to keep myself distracted.

I think maybe that's it.  Just too much floating through my head to bother making it meaningful.

Some days I feel overwhelmed, like my life is just chaotic.  Others I feel sad and alone.  Sometimes I feel overstimulated, sometimes under.  I can't get myself motivated to do the things that need to be done.  I can't get myself put together most days.  Several times, I have realized halfway through the day that I forgot deodorant, didn't brush my hair, or have been holding off on peeing for hours.

Some of it's good.  Some of it's bad.  But it's all there.  I sit and I think way too much, and then I think about thinking too much and try to be reasonable.  It's a vicious cycle.  It puts knots in my stomach.

I frequently find myself incredibly distracted.  I think I need a vacation.

So, elated at the idea of her NOT crying, I promised her a popsicle after school if she followed through with it.  Then I said, "Do you like school, Amaris?"  She nodded.  (Caught in a lie!)

We got to school and I walked her up the stairs to the upper grounds.  She walked right over and sat down to change her shoes, and then stood up and requested kisses and wubs.  So I have her a hug and a kiss and I left.  She was fine with it.  No tears, no screams, no troubles.  She may just have found her peace.

Amaris won't be able to say the same at this rate.  She informed me today about a half a dozen times.  "Mommy, I don't like school."

What this translates to is "Mommy, I would rather not wake up at 7AM and let you do my hair and dress me in a nice uniform and then drop me off with the Japanese nuns."

I know it is a lie.  I know it because she pitches a fit when I'm dropping her off, but when I pick her up she is having a blast.  She enjoys it there.  Her teacher is as sweet as can be, the other students are all adorable and she plays with them well, and basically everybody already knows and enjoys her there.  She's not quite yet 3 and is already lying through her teeth.  And for what?  The possibility of sleeping in?

Clearly bedtime needs to come forward in the schedule a bit.  8:30PM is not sufficient anymore.  Or else I need to enforce the post-school nap rule.  Tonight I managed to get the (insert expletives here) "Elephant story" (still thanking Heather for buying us that DELIGHTFUL book for Valentine's Day...) read and her lights out by 8.  30 minutes doesn't seem like much, but progress is progress.  So I'll take what I can get.

Her little friend, Emma ("Nemma" if you're speaking Amarish), was going to start school tomorrow but her mom just called and let me know that she is going to postpone it till Thursday instead so she can get her finals knocked out while her husband has a day off.  So I was excited about Nemma going to school with Amaris, thinking that would surely remedy the "Mommy, I don't like school" issue, but I suppose we'll have to tough it out through one more day.

Maternal guilt is lame.

So I didn't expect anything from him for the holidays he'd miss due to his deployment, quite frankly.  And I wasn't bitter about it.  I just figured that's the way it goes.  But today, I received a dozen beautiful roses.  It was unexpected and wonderful and sweet.  Sometimes, he turns on the charm.  What a thoughtful guy I married.  (Well, when he wants to be!)

Yesterday was a great day, too.  I took the kids to the commissary with me (since I slacked off last week on Amaris' school days and didn't get it done) and despite my fears, they were so incredibly well-behaved.  Amaris asked to sit in the cart and she didn't pester me to get out or yank things off the shelves or get loud and obnoxious...  It was awesome.  Cadence was awake and alert the entire trip but totally content and smiling at me the whole time.  I was so thrilled.

This morning, Amaris and I baked a coffee cake.  And then my friend came and got her and took her to her house.  When she came back she had a gift bag (which had three Yankee candles that smell like a tropical getaway) and a pretty picture she colored for me.  And she'd learned to say "Happy Mother's Day!"  (Which she later said to grandma on the phone, too.)  We made homemade chicken nuggets for dinner.

The weekend hasn't been perfect as far as schedules and such go, but it's been successful and enjoyable.  Tomorrow (and likely the rest of the week) will be busy, so for now I am just enjoying the last few hours left of Mother's Day.

Seeing my struggles, her sweet little teacher came and took her, screaming, into the class room.  I "gomen-nasai-ed" my heart out as I left.  I hope her screaming fit didn't last long.  And I hope that it doesn't become "the norm" for her.  Yesterday, while sad, was much nicer - she just ran off into the classroom and didn't look back.

Part of me - the sucker mom part - thought to myself, "Oh, well, she doesn't want to go - I should just take her back home today."  Then the sensible part of me thought to myself, "No way, she isn't going to win this battle - school is school.  I am paying the tuition, she will ATTEND."

So when Cadence has a bad day, I feel it.  Bad days for Amaris, who had colic as an infant and has always been attitudinal, were the norm.  Bad days for Cadence...  Not so much.  They leave me wondering who this other baby is that's trying to replace my always sweet little girl.

Today has been a bad day for my poor little baby.  I'm not sure why or what happened to make today different but she's had a terrible time napping.  For the first time in her life, for the better half of the day today, she's been awake.  Not always contently.  Much of that awake time has been spent fussing.  Maybe she's growing?  Maybe she's teething?  Maybe she's just in a bad mood?  I don't know.  I wish babies had a way to communicate other than crying.  Because I feel like a worthless, helpless mother when she cries and I don't know the purpose.  And she's pretty much cried every time I've tried to get her to nap today.  Though I know she's exhausted.

It's not a good feeling.  Today was a great day in many other aspects, but this mood of Cadence's has certainly been a low.  I just wish I could get her to get a decent rest in.

This is the second time that the moldy, horrific air conditioning units have dragged Cadence under the weather.  I know I can pin the blame on them because she lives a very sheltered life and somehow she's had this congestion TWICE.  She's only 3 months old.  What's wrong with that?

So I am making saline drops and getting ready to bleach the air conditionings.

Being everything to everyone is getting to be kind of rough.

I'm proud of myself.

Today I conquered homemade pancakes for the first time IN MY LIFE.  I pulled out the Bisquick and then said to myself, "No."  And I looked up a recipe for homemade pancakes.  I'm so glad I did.  They turned out delicious.  Amaris ate one and a half.  I ate two.  And the last several that I made turned out...  BROWN!  Usually my pancakes come out all splotchy and ugly.  These were golden.  Like the ones you get at Denny's.

I almost peed my pants.  I have discovered the secret to golden pancakes.  And it is good.

I'm loving and missing him.

A little over an hour ago, Amaris saw through our sliding glass door that someone was coming to the building in cammies and she said, "LOOK, Mommy, my DADDY!"

It broke my heart.  Like, into a billion pieces.

Pair that with the fact that I was supposed to get a phone call this afternoon from him, during which I had planned to tell him "Happy anniversary!"...  but he didn't call.  I'm sure he has some great excuse, but for the moment I am just so disappointed that I didn't get to talk to him like he said I would.

All day I did so well.  I took a shower, I got myself dressed (mostly), I was productive!  And then before I knew it, I was crying again.  I'm ready for a fast-forward button.

Okay, I'm not going to lie.  I'm still a total basketcase.

I do.  I hate being alone.  In fact, I think I'm terrified of being alone.  I don't mean I'm one of those women who depends heavily simply on "having a man".  I just mean that since I've got one, I don't want to be without him.  He is my companion.  One of those cheesy Myspace surveys asked if my significant other was my "everything".  My answer was that it's not possible for any one person to be my whole everything, but he's certainly a huge part of it.  I always think of "When Harry Met Sally" - the line at the end where Billy Crystal says "when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible."  I apply that movie quote to pretty much everything in my relationship.  I feel like it means that you want to be with that person as much as you can.  Uninterrupted would be preferable.  With the Marine Corps in the middle, that's obviously a little less possible.  But I can still dream.

I was all big talk that I could handle this deployment, but now that it comes down to it, I'm a big baby.  I'm scared, I'm stressed, I'm anxiety-ridden to say the least.  I got the girls home and immediately Cadence, my easygoing, calm, peaceful baby burst into screams and tears.  She did that for about 20 minutes.  I couldn't help thinking to myself, "Oh God, what have I gotten myself into?"  I've spent the day sobbing - my face is red and puffy to serve as the proof.

It's real now.  He's far away.  I hate it.  I know I'll start feeling better soon and I'll make it through it, but for now I'm miserable and sad.

For her pretend birthday, she got a big girl bike with streamers and training wheels and she actually managed to ride it correctly for the most part.  Good thing we made her pretend birthday today because the rain is coming again and there's no telling how long it'll stay around this time.

Pretend special occasions are good.  Bittersweet, but good.

Add that disgusting little tidbit to the mold, the roach problem, the stench, Mark's 30-minute+ one-way commute and the awkward proximity to all of the neighbors (even the ones I'm not crazy about) and I'm pretty much ready to move out now.

Then there's the fact that we found out airline tickets really only run about $700 per head round trip to visit here.  So I'm anticipating that we'll have visitors.  Before, when I was thinking we'd be visitor-free, I figured to myself that at least nobody had to see how I was living here in this dump.  But now, if people are going to come and stay with us, I suddenly feel compelled to have a presentable and non-depressing home.

Unfortunately, moving for me isn't going to happen until Mark is back from his deployment.  And his homecoming is not going to happen till he goes away.  Not that I want him gone by any means, but if he's gotta go I've worked myself into the (eerily familiar) state of mind at this point that the sooner he leaves the sooner he can be home.  Fortunately for that emotion, his departure IS coming soon.

I'm ready to tackle my problems.  I'm ready to preoccupy, I'm ready to conquer, I'm ready to make things happen.  I'd rather he were staying behind with me, but since he's not, I'm making my plan.

And looming near the top of that plan is the big move-out.

Yesterday I enrolled her in a Japanese Catholic preschool.  She starts in early May.  She loved it there and was so excited.  I know we're making a great decision for her future.  The curriculum is Montessori based and the school itself comes with rave reviews.

So I got the school supplies list and ordered her school uniforms.  Yes - school uniforms.  The uniform for the warm weather ahead consists of a short sleeved white button down shirt and a little navy blue skirt with suspenders.  There's a PE uniform, too.  Orange shorts, a white with orange ringer t-shirt and a cap.

Today we are supposed to go shopping for the other school supplies.  I've been dying to take her school shopping since she was born, poor kid.  I love the smell of freshly sharpened pencils in the morning.

Anything for a distraction, I suppose.

We are quickly approaching our anniversary - this year we are celebrating 8 years of being a couple, and 4 years of marriage.  We're celebrating our two beautiful little girls, our ups, our downs...  Our adventure.  We're celebrating so much together.  When I think about the past 8 years and all of the joys and heartaches they've contained, at the risk of being cliche, my cup runneth over.

I laughed and told her nobody likes old pizza.  And then I said, "What would you like instead?"

"Cucumbers!"

"Cucumbers?  Really?"

"Yee-ah!"  (She always sounds like Flava-Flave when she says "yeah".)

"Okay, I'm not going to argue."

So I cut her up a cucumber and put it on her plate.  She sat down with it excitedly.  Two bites later she says, "Mommy, I no want any more."

I said, "You can't waste it!  What if I show you a cool trick, will you try to eat some more then?"

"Yee-ah!"

I grabbed the bottle of Ranch dressing out of the fridge while she watched and then she said, "Mommy, what's that?"

"Magic," I said.

"No it's not, it's dip!"

Smart ass.

Whatever though, she's eating her cucumber now without complaint.  Every bite doused in magic.  I mean, dip.

A man named Tomo cut my hair.  And he did a fantastic job with the cut and style, but the best part was the shampooing.  Seriously, it was worth every bit of the extra ¥500 I paid for it.  At least.

I've come to a realization that Japan is a very relaxing country.  You get a pedicure, it comes with a half-hour long foot and leg massage that is absolutely blissful.  You go to the flipping barber shop for a quick and easy buzz cut (a la the Marine Corps) and you get a quick massage at the end.  At the hair salon, they incorporate a 15 minute scalp massage in with your shampoo.    And let me tell you, it is heavenly.  Now, I am like any other American in a foreign country.  I'm not quite a tourist so I'm not loud and obnoxious (although my kid sure can be), but I'm not a local.  Which makes me hesitant to DO things.  I've been able to silence and kick aside that hesitation for the most part because I figure I am only here for three years, I'd better get in as much as I can.  But it is hard.  It's hard for me to pick up the phone and call an all-Okinawan salon and ask for a haircut appointment.  It's hard for me to balls up, get out and do things.  Fortunately I've got seriously one of the greatest possible friends here with me and we are able to motivate each other to DO and SEE.  So we made these hair appointments together and in the salon we sat side-by-side while our kids played in the little "children's room".  We experienced.  We enjoyed.  And thank God for that.

In about 40 minutes, I'll be getting my eyebrows waxed.  By the time Mark gets home I'll be like a new woman!

We've got dates scheduled for before he leaves and I am really excited to get to spend time with him before he goes away again.  Absence sucks royally, but it's true what they say about the things it does to your heart.  For the next couple of days, I'll be cleaning house and getting everything ready for him to come home to a low-stress, happy environment.  The poor guy deserves a little break.

Juggling the girls and their individual needs has been difficult, undeniably, but I have to admit that at this point in the day, I am feeling extremely accomplished that I've managed to do it and have still managed to get a few other things done on top of that - for example:  actual meals for Amaris and me, a load of laundry, and I scrubbed the shower down.

I feel like Wonder Woman right now.  I hate that my kids don't feel 100%, and it is making me incredibly sad, but I feel like I am overcoming it and handling it on my own as best I can and I'm proud of myself.

I'm running on less sleep than I'd like and I've got a sad heart...  But for the first time, I feel like a real live mother.  I'm doing my job.  And in this moment, I don't care if I never have a paying job again.

I am going to need lots of chap stick.

Clearly disappointed, she accepts the stand-in kiss and heads off to sleep.  Raising military brats is hard and emotional work.  Though I am certain that being a military brat is even harder.

...And they know it.  Last night I was having dinner at our friends' house and their six-year-old daughter said to me (very matter-of-factly), "You have two to take care of, all by yourself.  It's hard to do it alone."  Such a grown-up thought for such a little girl to have.

I feel for my girls.  We're just over two days into this separation and they've been a long couple of days.

Anyways I am feeling extra sentimental today since he just left to the states for a couple of weeks, but I just sort of feel overwhelmed with everything.  He'll not only miss our anniversary, but Amaris' third birthday, and at least 6 months of time he could have spent with his little girls (and obviously his "big girl"), to include whichever holidays come and go during that time.

Last night he tucked Amaris in to bed.  I overheard him talking to her while he was in there but I couldn't really make out the conversation completely.  Later he told me that he had teared up telling her to be a good girl for me while he was gone.  Ever since he went to a jungle training event on the northern end of the island a few months ago, she has adamantly insisted every time he is gone longer than a work day that "daddy's inna jungle," so last night with her cozy in her bed, he said to her, "Daddy is going to the jungle for a long time, so we're not going to be able to see each other.  You have to be a good girl for mommy, okay baby?"  She said, "Okay."  He'll be back before three weeks go by, so really it's not a ridiculously long time or anything, but even a month is an eternity when you're not quite 3 yet.

A longer trip "to the jungle" is on the way very soon.  My heart breaks.

The evening before last, a man residing in this building died.  He was not old.  He was not unhealthy.  He was not much different from my own husband.  Had arrived on Okinawa in August, just recently celebrated an anniversary with his young wife, had a lovely two year old, and was in a steady and strong Marine Corps career.

In fact, he not only lived in this building.  He also worked in the same building Mark works in.  Mark knew him and considered him a friend.  His death hits close to home.  Well, when you consider that he lived just 4 floors above us, his death kind of hits home, period.

The most tragic part is that he did not have to die.  Several days ago, he was misdiagnosed at medical and was sent home and told that he was suffering from an ear infection.  As it turns out, he had meningitis.

Now, this community is small.  We are in close quarters regardless of whether or not we want to be.  When things like this happen, it affects us all in one way or another.  In the Marine Corps family life, it's not expected, per se, but is at least understood moreso than in many other career paths that death is a possibility.  You send your husband away on deployments and regardless of how confident you feel in his abilities, you are well aware of the daunting fact that he might not make it home with a heartbeat.  Sudden deaths like this somehow feel even scarier.  Even while your husband is home with you, working "normal" hours and you think he is completely safe, life is so precious.  It's impermanent.  It's fragile.  And quite frankly, it can end at any time, anywhere.  It's incredibly unfortunate that it takes tragedy to jog society's communal memory about those things.

I've been selfish.  I've taken for granted all of the things that I've unintentionally expected to always be there.  Tomorrow, for example.  My family.  My health.  I am so fortunate.  I am so blessed to have these seemingly simple things.

Life is a blessing.  Hold your loved ones a little closer tonight and appreciate their existence, please.  And say a little prayer for those less fortunate.

Yesterday I checked my email twice and looked up a recipe.  Other than that I was internet-free.  I folded and put away mountains of laundry, tidied up the kitchen, and that was it.  I feel like I should've been able to do so much more.

And now today, all of the remaining tasks are staring me down.  I am ultra-aware of everything I did not accomplish.  The floors, the kitchen, the bathrooms need to be cleaned.  My stack of receipts from February-now still need to be balanced into my ledger.  There's still more laundry waiting to go for a spin-cycle.  The chores never end.  It's like this circle of housework that just keeps on going and going.

Last night I was so elated to find that the job I had been wanting to apply for FINALLY got posted on the MCCS-Okinawa website.  I sat at the computer for over an hour re-vamping my resumé while Cadence fussed for no apparent reason and Mark didn't make it home till about 7PM.  When he got here I let him take over with her and continued on, but I think my spirit about the situation had already died.  Guilt took a hold of me over the fact that I'd have to put Cadence in day care and would miss out on a ton of time with the girls...

I stood up, pushed in the chair and said, "Nevermind."  The window with the online-application is still open on my computer screen now.  Over 12 hours later.  Half complete.  I don't have the heart to close it.

When I was little, I always said I'd go to college, I'd wait to have kids, I'd always keep a part time job at the very least, so that I could have my foot in the door and be a marketable employee in case of an emergency.  I didn't want to be completely dependent on anybody.  But here I am.  And don't get me wrong, I have loved every minute of my life.  I've changed my plans, I know, but I did that intentionally.  And I absolutely would not trade any of it.  My marriage, my children, my adventures... I might've stayed in school a little longer and applied myself a little harder to it, but that's really the only choice I've made that I consider a "mistake".  Even still, I know why I made that mistake and I know that there hasn't been much I could do to change it.  Which is why I hadn't finished any further college classes until this week.

Sometimes I look around at the house during the week days, devoid of adults and commanding my constant attention and I think to myself that this is not at all what I'd had in mind.  And then I feel selfish for thinking that way because when it all comes down to it, I do enjoy being home with the kids.  I did choose this.  I chose to move excruciatingly slowly towards my college education.  I chose to get pregnant twice and have two beautiful daughters to care for.  I knew I wouldn't want to put them in child care.  I knew I'd want to be with them till they headed off to school, even if that meant "sacrificing" valuable, useable years of my life.  I knew that.  I was prepared for that.  I wanted that, even.

So I can't really put my finger on what it is about the situation that makes me feel borderline resentful now.  When it's what I chose for myself.  It's the path I insisted on.  When I quit my job at NAVSEA, I had begged Mark's blessing on it.  I said, "We can survive on just your income, I don't want this horrible job anymore.  I hate it.  I want to just stay home and take care of the house.  We could have a baby soon and then we'd want me home anyways."

I've always had these distractions.  The only new ones are the kids.  The house has never been perfect.  My "work" here at home never feels finished.  I feel like there's always one more thing.  And when I spend all day on the couch, meticulously folding every single shirt in the house, I feel like I am underaccomplished and underappreciated.  Not that Mark doesn't appreciate what I do.  More like I don't appreciate it, I guess.  I suddenly feel like I'm not even qualified for a paying job anymore.  I feel unmarketable and useless and dependent.  And I hate feeling like that.  I hate feeling like a burden on anybody, especially my husband (though he assures me that I am not).  I feel selfish or guilty for about 50% of the thoughts that cross my mind on a daily basis.  I feel like I've backed myself into a corner here as a housewife, a domestic, and I'm not even really that good at it.  I try and try, but nothing ever turns out the way I think it should and I wind up disappointed.

I don't want to put my kids in all-day every day child care.  I want to be with them as much as I can.  I want to have patience for them.  I want to be the best mom I can be.  But I also feel like I want things for myself that just aren't happening.  Things that won't happen.  Things that can't happen, because I won't let them.

Maybe I like feeling like this.  Maybe deep down this is just the way it's supposed to be.  There is no happy medium, obviously.  I'd be bitter and jaded either way.

I need to just let it go.  I am where I belong.  I am doing what I am supposed to, as best I can.

My chores around the house have become totally overwhelming.  I didn't know where to put the whites from the dryer so that I could move the towels in because all of my laundry baskets were full of clean laundry waiting to be folded and put away.  And I'll have to do more laundry tomorrow.  AND tomorrow is chicken katsu night.

I need to take some time off.  I need to devote myself to getting things back into order.  My organization has fallen all to pieces and I'm totally screwed up now and frustrated.  I stood in the hallway and fought back tears for no reason.  I haven't done that since the week and a half after Cadence was born when my emotions and hormones were on overdrive.  It's just been too much lately.  I think tomorrow I'll unplug the modem and the TV and give myself a rest so that I can be motivated to do the things that won't be doing themselves any time soon.  That'll help me to be wordless.

Sometimes the world is just too much.

This weekend we're going on a date - thank God for that, and thank God for our wonderful friends that we can wholeheartedly trust to watch the girls for us.  I've been researching date ideas for us this afternoon.  We'll come up with something.  It'll either be dinner and martinis, dinner and a movie...  or maybe an afternoon outing of some sort.  We need some "Mark and Kari time", so I'm looking forward to getting it.

I found out about a Montessori school today where the tuition is $180/month.  I am thinking of enrolling Amaris.  I say that all the time, I know...  But she really does need some structure.  So I've got to figure out something for her.

Good night.

Cadence is growing like a weed.  Amaris is too.  Amaris stuns me daily with all the new things she learns and says.  Cadence goes to bed at night a tiny baby swaddled up tightly and when I wake up to her in the morning, she's bigger and more beautiful than before.  I couldn't remember how old she was today and I kept trying to recall the exact number of weeks and then I realized that it really just feels like I can't remember life without her.

I just haven't been able to find the words.  I can't pick a thread and go with it.  I've been overwhelmed.  That's the trend lately.

Had I found the drive to blog last night as I cooked dinner with Amaris while Mark and Cadence napped on the couch, it'd have been happy, to say the least.  I was singing along to the music and dancing around the kitchen and thinking to myself, contentedly, that this is the way it's supposed to be.  This morning, I'd have been pitiful as I scrapped together the pieces of my unconventionally broken heart.  Things, feelings, emotions come and go.  The days all run together, I don't even really think straight most of the time.

The emotional cycle of deployment has begun.  I'm on a nonstop roller coaster and it goes deeper than the thought that I am going to miss my husband.  It's all sorts of worldly things that just zap me right into this uncomfortable state of reality.  I'm not enjoying it, and to be honest I think that without my little support system and these beautiful kids of mine, I'd probably have lost it long ago.  (Or maybe just last week - my sense of time is just totally screwed up lately.)

I haven't fallen off the face of the earth.  Though sometimes it does feel that way.  I'm just dealing with all of these things the only way I can think to at this point.

And then Mark called.  And my world came crashing down.  I feel pathetic saying that, but that's how it felt.  I'd been anticipating his deployment for so long that I'd gotten numb to it.  The details faded into the background and I just didn't worry about things.  I knew that he'd be going and I'd be staying and that was that.  The estimated date was nearly in June so I figured I had some time to adjust myself accordingly.

At this point, though, instead it looks like he'll be leaving before May even begins.  And before that he'll be training for two weeks in North Carolina.  If you run your mental calendar, that pretty much means that we have very little time remaining already.  And that he is most likely going to miss another anniversary this year.

So now that I have sketchy details that involve the next two months, I am panicked.  I feel like this has all come up on us so suddenly and I am not sure what to do with myself.  How to react.  How to cope.  And then I have days with the kids where I think to myself, "Good God, what have I gotten myself into?"  Amaris pushes ALL of my buttons ALL day long, and juggling the girls, the house, food, chores and whatever else becomes incredibly different from about 3-10PM.  It's stressful and overwhelming.  How will I get through x months without daddy's help?  What am I going to do?

I know that eventually these things will just work out.  And what doesn't kill you makes you stronger.  But this deployment is just so different for us in so many ways from the trips he took in 2003 and 2004.  I'm overwhelmed with a whole barrage of emotions I had forgotten about, or didn't have to feel during those previous deployments due to different circumstances.

I'm going to be alright.  I just need to keep reminding myself.

I don't know what it is with me and mellow music.  I could probably listen to nothing but mellow music.  I've also referred to it in my head as "stoner music" - which is odd, because I'm about the furthest thing from a stoner in existence.  Stoners annoy and disgust me.  I have like no tolerance for them.  And I've never touched any sort of illegal substance myself.  Yep, I'm a goody-good.  I'm straight edge like it's going out of style.  (Actually it probably is.)

Anyways music does weird things to my psyche.  Certain songs take me back instantly to a different place and time in my life.  Other songs can rip my heart out, even if I'm just hearing them for the first time.

Ryan Adams' "Wonderwall" cover warps me right back to my wedding.  Or, actually, it kind of warps me back to the classes we took at John Dancer prior to the wedding where we learned to foxtrot.

Jonathan Rice's "So Sweet" comes on and instantly I am sitting in my Scion in the worst traffic jam of my life on the grapevine.  The one that took over 2 hours to get through (on a stretch of about 3 miles) on the way to go visit Mark at Camp Pendleton for the weekend.

Ben Folds' "Not The Same" takes me to every road trip I ever took with my mom - most of them to Disneyland or Camp Pendleton.

"The Scientist" by Coldplay breaks my heart and reminds me of the drive to take Mark back to the barracks before his deployment.  Sitting in the back seat of my mom's minivan wrapped up in seat belts and eachothers' arms, faces tear-streaked and tired.

"Acoustic #3" by the Goo Goo Dolls jogs my memory of a week-long family vacation nearly 10 years ago to a place called Pajaro Dunes where we spent our days on the beach and our nights eating pricey appetizers and enjoying eachother's company.

Jimmy Eat World, anything on their Bleed American CD, but mostly "Hear You Me" transports me to San Simeon.

"Wreck of the Day" by Anna Nalick reminds me of working at NavSea in Port Hueneme and the Santa Ana winds.

Blink 182's "Here's Your Letter" takes me back to meticulous, mindless paperwork when I was just starting at the only paying job I miss.

"She Will Be Loved" from Maroon 5's Songs About Jane puts me in the driver's seat of my first car, driving to my first job.

And a whole list of these songs pretty much makes me completely useless.  Because instead of working on the things that need to get done, I blog about how my life feels like it has a soundtrack.

That's what we're dealing with here.  I kind of feel like the DOD rounded up a bunch of the most incompatible, weirdest people they could find and they sent them all to Okinawa.  There are a few GREAT people here.  They're like the sprinkles in a funfetti cake.  You find them and it's like a burst of sweet and color and excitement surrounded by a bunch of the same old white, spongy cake.  As a whole, the people on Okinawa are resentful, dramatic, bitter, socially awkward and downright catty.

The whole "woe is me" routine is getting old.  I'm tired of hearing everybody complain.  Military families KNOW that duty stations are not permanent.  We KNOW that we'll only be here for 3 years or so before they pack us up and send us someplace else.  I know people who would not only jump, but would HURDLE themselves at the opportunity to spend 3 years in Japan on the government's dime.  From what I've seen so far, very few Americans ON Okinawa are aware of how fortunate they are.  Or maybe they're aware and they just don't like to acknowledge it.  They'd rather sit around and piddle away their entire 3 or so years here feeling bad for themselves and throwing a total pity party.  All while being negative towards the people around them who choose NOT to live that way.

Excuse me but I refuse to be miserable here.  I refuse to let people's antagonism and addiction to dramatics define my three measly years here.  I won't subject myself and my family to that kind of pathetic behavior.  Why should I?

People can continue to talk.  To post pointed and condescending remarks on their Myspaces or blogs.  I don't care - freedom of speech and all that, right?  What it all comes down to is the sad fact that people are extremely jealous and lost and unwilling to experience anything good.  We're afraid of the unknown.  That's normal.  But being obsessed with fighting all chances at happiness seems a little bit bizarre to me.

I'm enjoying Japan so far.  And honestly I just want to do everything I can WHILE I can.  I think we deserve that.  We have 3 years, there's no reason I shouldn't know this island inside out by the time we leave here.  And I'll appreciate it for what it is.

So much for wordless Wednesday these past few weeks.

Big shout-out to Kimberly Mitchell Photography for being so darn awesome.  Here are Cadence's newborn pictures.

Today we're off to the northern end of the island so that we can hit up the aquarium, the pineapple farm and the Najikin Castle ruins.

This weekend has so far been full of deliciousness.  On Friday, we tried out a sushi bar I'd been itching to test and were very pleasantly surprised.  It was in the sushi-go-round style, where the little plates scoot past your table on a conveyor belt, and each plate averaged around ¥150.  California Rolls, Crab Sticks, Eel, Shrimp...  And this phenomenal tempura shrimp roll.  We got Amaris some Okinawa Soba and she was content with that and one of the shrimps.  It was well worth the ¥3,000 total.

Yesterday for Valentine's Day we double-dated, kids in tow, with our nearest and dearest friends here on island.  We went to a place called Marino's.  For ¥12,110 we fed four adults and three children with food to spare.  And not just any food, but probably the best food I've had in a REALLY long time.  Two Margherita pizzas; cheese fondue (with toasty bread cubes); Caesar salad; brothy Italian-style vegetable soup; creamy, cheesy pasta with mushrooms and pancetta (they mix the pasta at your table in a giant half-wheel of parmesan cheese); risotto jam packed with goodies like sausage, shrimp and vegetables; the very BEST, most melt-in-your-mouth lasagna I've ever tasted; and 3 mini-desserts per person, which were to die for.

We all left full and happy.  Dinner was a success!

In other news, Cadence's belly button stump fell off this morning.  And we've been researching more things to do today.  We've got a bit of cabin fever, I think, and we all want to get out of the house.

So our trip to Shikinaen has been cancelled.  Well, postponed.  Maybe we'll go next weekend instead.  Anyhow Valentine's Day will instead be spent at home watching movies and drinking cocoa.  Goofy-assed weather.

I guess it's just as well, I'm a little behind on homework anyways...  And I need to do some housework.  Happy V-Day to ME!  >:/

We are getting in the swing of things.  Cadence is finding her voice.  She is still very quiet compared to her rambunctious big sister, but she is definitely talking (and crying) more in the past couple of days than she ever has.  She's falling into a schedule despite herself and we're all adjusting to it just fine.  Amaris is currently sitting next to her sleeping in the bouncy seat and cooing and talking to her.  I love them together.

Cadence Marie

February 3, 2009

1:01AM

6 lbs, 12 oz

19" long

Cape Hedo

Cadence Marie

February 3, 2009 at 1:01AM, Cadence Marie made her arrival in a very different way from her older sister's birth two and a half years ago.  Amaris' labor was 42 hours, over two hours of which were spent pushing to no avail.

All day on the 2nd, I had minor (but regular) contractions.  At around 8PM, the intensity increased a little and I timed about four contractions that were 5 minutes apart each.  And just as I was sitting on our friends' couch about ready to make the announcement that my contractions had picked up a little bit at the end of the last contraction, I felt a sharp kick-like feeling.  It made me jump a little.  And then I felt a warm gush and I knew my water had broken.  It was 8:27PM.

We stayed home till I started to get really uncomfortable during contractions and when we got to the hospital, it was after 11PM and I'd kept my eyes closed during the entire half-hour drive to get there.  I figured I'd get my epidural, sleep most of the night and then push in the morning.  I rated my contractions about an 8 on the 0-10 pain scale.

Into Triage I went and they monitored me for a while before determining my need for a Labor & Delivery room.  By then I was begging for the epidural.  The nurses struggled to place my IV catheter for what felt like forever.  I was in a massive amount of pain and each time they stuck me something went wrong and they had to start over.  Finally they got my IV running, and finally a doctor came to examine my cervix.  He fiddled forever and couldn't come up with an accurate guess on my progress.  His exam was excruciating and I finally shut my legs and told him to stop.  He made up some numbers for the nurses and asked to get my epidural going so that he could get a better idea of my actual dilation and effacement.  The nurses gave me a dose of some painkiller via my IV while we waited for the anesthesiologist.

I know most women say "I felt like I needed to poop."  But I really did.  And I told the nurse I wanted to go to the bathroom.  She said she needed to ask the doctor if I could because of the baby's location and the pain meds she'd given me.  He okayed it, just asked me to keep aware of the baby because that was probably part of the pressure I was feeling.

Mark had to help me use the bathroom.  I was successful, but I did feel the pressure of her head in my cervix, so I had to keep standing up and pressing my legs together to avoid accidentally pushing at the wrong times.  I managed to get back to the bed eventually, and then the anesthesiologist came in and started briefing me on the process and what I'd need to do.  He talked forever.  At the end of his spiel, he said something about how he wanted me to sit on the edge of the bed and slouch.  I said, "I can feel her head."  He kept talking.  I said, "Something is coming out of me."

He stopped talking and stood there almost kind of baffled while my nurse came and threw the covers off of me, just in time to reveal Cadence pretty much diving right out.  She gasped and said, "oh!  baby!  baby!"  and the entire staff of the Labor and Delivery wing rushed into my room all at once.

I didn't push one time.  I didn't do anything, really, except suffer through the contractions at their worst.  I was totally awestruck at her arrival.

She is beautiful and tiny and we are all in love with her.  Amaris has already sang her the ABC's and "Twinkle twinkle" about a dozen times.  Most of all we are just happy to finally be home.  More photos to come.