Fast Attack Tough

The world of submarines is a complicated one. There are two major kinds of subs (Boomers and Fast Attacks). There are two types of fast attacks - Virginia and Los Angeles.

Hubby has to do one tour on the fast attack kind. We decided to do it first since this sea duty was supposed to be a bit shorter than the second one.

Boomers work hard. Hubby was on one pre-me and they do their part. But, they have a set schedule (known years in advance!) and two crews. That means for a few months at a time, the other crew takes the boat out and you get a rest period. They still work, but it's not the same effort level. Hubby has consented that while out to sea Boomers run a lot more drills and have quiet times where family can't get email.

However, right now he's earning his "fast attack tough" award. It's just a silly thing the guys say about living this life style. The schedule is crazy and always changing. It seems like he just got home from deployment and he's leaving already.

He was at the pier at 4 this morning to get things ready to go back out. This one won't be another 6 monther. Right now, the schedule has them gone about about a month and a half.

Hubby is becoming fast attack tough. And, so are The Bear and I.



The Bear has had a serious attitude issue the last few weeks. Granted, he's been feeling sick. However, he's approaching full out brat stage.

Hubby, The Bear and I went out to dinner last Thursday night. Hubby made it clear that The Bear is out of control. He refuses to sit in his high chair for the hour it takes to order and eat. No amount of snacks, toys or silly songs appeases him.

At church on Sunday, I had to take him to the nursery. He's always stayed with us during the service. I typically pay more attention to him than the sermon, but I want him to know what's expected of him. He always used to be just fine with his toys and such. I let him move about a little bit in the pew and there's lots of sitting and standing which keeps him entertained.

I don't know what happened to my sweet baby boy. He's only 16 months old, and I'm terrified to think it will only get worse as he approaches 2.

I feel like I'm failing as a mom. I don't know what to do.


Our Home

We live in military housing. I don't know if it's still considered base housing since we don't physically live on base here. It's actually a decent home - much better than the mold infested shelter from World War II we lived in while we were in South Carolina. (I am NOT a fan of SC, but that's a whole other issue.)

We are very lucky to have a house that we can't be foreclosed on and where we can crank the A/C up all the way without worrying about the electricity bill.

However, it's all white. I guess it's not a pure white. It actually is freakishly similar to the color of masking tape. I'm a color junkie. My room at my parents' house is purple and yellow. Hubby doesn't share my need for color. He said my old bedroom felt like he was living in an Easter egg. I like it though. College brought me to a white world, and Hubby hasn't rescued me from it yet. Despite the poor color choice, thinking about our home hurts my heart.

It makes me sad when I think about the workmanship that went into building these houses. They're only a few years old, and they were built with the intention of being for military families. They were built cheaply. They took a ton of short cuts and were just dumb in some cases.

While they were installing the drywall in our garage, they drilled right through our phone line so half the time you pick up the phone there is no dial tone. The floors are that fake wood stuff, but the boards weren't pushed together all the way so there are tons of little cracks which collect all of The Bear's crumbs. They left too big of an opening for the dishwasher so there are awkward spaces on both sides of it. This probably could have been fixed if they had installed a normal sized dishwasher instead of the mini one we have.

We know a couple that has to open the oven in order to open the silverware drawer. Because that's convenient.

It's just a bunch of little stuff that drives me crazy. I think it's saddest because they knew when they were building these houses who would be living in them. You think they would want to do a little better for the people that serve our country. Would you really want them making shortcuts on your safety?

I think my parents made me a little too patriotic. Or maybe they just instilled in me a sense of pride for what I do.


I <3 Faces - My Friend & I

Head on over to iheartfaces to check out all the other entries this week. There are some talented photographers out there!
This week's theme is My Friend & I.

This is from almost exactly a year ago - April 9, 2008. The Bear is all snuggled in with his lovie - his best friend - Mr. Blue.



I am obsessed with names. I totally analyze and judge people on their names. Not the nicest thing I could do, but a name is typically a signal of the values a person was raised with.

The night we found out I was pregnant with The Bear I stayed up until the wee hours reading through the entire name book. Hubby did not share my excitement or understand why I wanted to decide on a name that night. He kept telling me we had 9 more months.

It's an important choice. One of the few things that a parent does that follows their child around every day for the rest of their life.

I've been pretty restrained with this one. We've known for a few days and I only made Hubby have a 10 minute conversation with me. I had gone through the book again already though. Since we've done this once, I had an idea what names Hubby would like. It also changed a little now, because I need a name that goes with The Bear's name.

We have a list of 5 boy names we both like. Hubby is the type that probably already knows which one he likes, but he'll make me wait another 8 months to tell me what he things.

It's also hard because I need something to call Baby. "It" really bothers me. Baby seems weird. I like having at least a nick name even if it's silly. Anyone have any suggestions?


I am a control freak. I can admit it. Admitting it actually makes it easier when I give Hubby dirty looks or take something out of his hands because he's doing it "wrong".

The playgroup The Bear and I are in runs a baby sitting coop. We rotate which two moms stay with the kiddos and the other moms have a blessed 3 hours to themselves. I hosted the last date at our house. It was a loud 3 hours with 8 children under the age of 4.

The moms are amazingly awesome and cleaned up the toys that were EVERYWHERE at the end. They just naturally do that.

BUT, they did it wrong. All the toys were put away; in the Itso system we have from Target which I love. They have drawers that pull out so I can pull out one type of toys for The Bear at a time. We have a Little People drawer, a ball drawer, a music drawer . . . You get the idea.

I let it stay for almost 24 hours the way they had put them away. I spent most of that time seething and staring at the toys.

Why can I not relax? The toys were all away. I am much better than I was before The Bear was born, but I have miles to go. I really need to learn to chill and let people do things.

I know once there are 2 kids in this house I'll be outnumbered. Or go insane :-)


Wordless Wednesday

A picture is worth a thousand words.

PS. If you do actually know me in person, please don't tell anyone. Hubby and I like to keep it quiet for a while.