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.

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.

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.

I am going to need lots of chap stick.

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 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.

Go here to make your own!

I am NOT Japanese.  My husband is a miniscule fraction Japanese, my kids are even less.  We're Americans, though.  NOT JAPANESE.  I have nothing against Japanese people.  Japanese people are great.  Okinawans are divine!  But I'm an American, currently living in Okinawa.

Why is it that people have such a hard time grasping that?  They think that because I'm here for 3 years, I'm instantly a local.  The fact that I receive mail in Okinawa does not make me a citizen!  People who should know better, is the worst part.

"So, do you know how to make sushi?"

"No, I haven't learned how yet, but I'm hoping to.  I've always loved sushi.  It's one of the reasons I was excited to come here.  I will start experimenting with sushi as soon as I get myself a good rice cooker."

"Girl, you're Japanese now, you need to get yourself a rice cooker and start making sushi!"

Um, no.  I'm not "Japanese now".  I am not applying for citizenship, I do not speak the language, my eyes didn't magically go slanty and my hair didn't mysteriously become straight, shiny, smooth and black the moment we got off of our plane here in Okinawa.  I'm still a plain old American.  With peachy skin, green eyes and brown hair.  Our car's license plate has a distinctive "Y" on it - the island-wide mark of the "Yankee".  We don't have a tatami room in our apartment, and quite honestly, we don't even have Japanese electrical outlets.

Quit implying that my family is something that it so blatantly isn't.  It's probably offensive to the local population.  We are just visitors here, we are not permanent.