Throwback Thursday: Chin High and Pushing Through.

The following is cut and pasted from my older blog (This Mom is Overdunne), originally posted five years ago in July of 2010. At the time my hubby was deployed, and I was feeling...well...hard done by. A lot has happened since then,(two moves, many more challenges and successes...) and we've weathered the storms to get to where we are now. 

I have many friends who are in the various stages of deployment, and I wish them all the best as they hold their chins high and push through the difficult days. 

I hope they know that they are loved. 

I hope they know that it will pass. 

And I hope they know how very, very important they are.


Originally posted HERE on July 18, 2010:

Quarrels, Quinte Cups, Conversation Killers (and Queries)

It's been a month and a half that I've been parenting on my own, thanks to the Canadian Armed Forces. The kids and I have gotten into a routine. We've pulled one of the chairs away from the table, so it doesn't seem so empty without dad (pictured, left) there. I work my shortened work week, I taxi the kids to their activities, and I try (unsuccessfully) to keep the house from looking like a complete pig stye. I feed them at least one vegetable a day. We eat out more than once a week. Pretty normal, actually.

According to my handy-dandy Family Deployment Handbook (FDH), I'm right on schedule. I'm in the 'Recovery and Stabilization Phase'. Meaning...I'm not sick? And I'm not so unstable? That the old boat ain't so tipsy? True, the almost-in-labour anxiety has calmed down, and I spend less time sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor sobbing. But I still hate it. Just because I'm not running down our country road screaming obscenities and pulling my hair out doesn't mean I don't think about it. 

The FDH states that by week 6 I should be experiencing "Feelings of increased confidence, independence, competence, freedom, pride, isolation, anxiety and depression". How can you be confident and still be depressed? How can you feel competent and independent, yet have anxiety? Living in deployment-land is full of nasty contradictions. I'm moodier than a PMSing teen deprived of sleep and coffee. One thing's for sure...if Momma's grumpy, everyone's grumpy. I try to be patient. But patience has never been my forte. So the kids are less patient with each other...and then the fights start. I have adopted the 'Mom's having a time out' technique. Rather than blow up at them for blowing up at each other, I lock myself in my bedroom and count to 1000 (10 just doesn't cut it). It works...more or less. The kids go 'Huh?' and stop quarrelling. And I get a precious moment or two by myself.

It bugs me that the little FDH book is so accurate, though. I hate to be pegged. But it's right. Independent? My husband (and parents, and siblings...)will tell you that he didn't have to go away for me to be independent. And now that he's gone, independence has hit full force. Whatever you do, DON'T suggest I can't do something. I'm like a kid with a dare. Two weekends ago the girls were at their first away horse show (One of the Quinte Cup Series)of the season. Two ponies, two girls, my son, saddles, bridles, helmets, show outfits, water, a sun shelter, chairs, food, diabetic supplies (for my youngest) and coffee, all had to be packed into boxes, trucks and trailers for a day long show in the heat. We got up at 4 a.m. to leave. And it went...okay. We got there, the girls showed, and we came home. I did it, with help from others, of course, but I did it. So there, ha ha. Independent me. 

And as to coversation killers... I read a post on Facebook this week that just about hit the nose on the head. I can't find it now (of course) and can't find the author, so forgive me if you wrote it. (And let me know if you did so I can give you credit) but it was along the lines of "14 things to NOT say to a spouse of a deployed soldier". I have great friends, and they generally know how it is with me. But I'd like to paraphrase a few of the points:

1. "I know how you feel." You don't. Heck, I don't even know how I feel most of the time. If your husband has NOT gone away for 6 months and flown in and out of Afghanistan at least once during that time, you don't know how I feel. If you haven't sat beside your diabetic daughter at 3 in the morning praying her sugars come down, you don't know how I feel. Just like I don't know how you're getting through whatever challenge you have in your life right now. My FDH tells me I feel isolated. Darn right. I'm alone in my experiences. I don't generally want to talk about it with anyone, because it kills the conversation dead. 

2. "It could be worse, he could be in..." Gee, thanks. Make me feel even worse than I already feel. Sure, he could be somewhere worse. I'm sure there are a million things that could make my current situation even more stressful. Do I want to think about them right now? NO.

3. "Well at least the kids are older (not babies)" Have you ever had a pre-pubescent daughter? Not fun. Tears at least twice a day. And my kids are old enough to understand where their dad is. They get it. It's on the news every day. Someone killed, someone bombed, funding cuts...I try to turn off the news, and thankfully hubby is not in Afghanistan all of the time, but they hear it. And they think about it. Babies don't. 

I could go on and on, but the negative vibes are making me grumpy, so I'd like to add a change of tone. I want to give you a few things I'd LIKE to hear. Music to the deployed spouse's ear, a balm for my tired soul. 

1. "Here's a gift certificate to the spa. I'll stay at your house and watch your kids." I don't have time to look after myself these days, what with summer (ie kids are home), work and taxiing. I'd love to have a moment alone. And if my kids are home, I have less to worry about than if you took them to...Wonderland or anywhere else far away and less safe. I can't relax if I think there's some danger. And with a diabetic daughter, keeping my diabetes-educated kids together, and keeping them at home means easy access to whatever food, medicine, or equipment she needs. If you offer something like this to a military spouse, though...make sure you follow through. There is nothing worse than looking at a gift certificate on the fridge for six months straight. And I can guarantee they won't ask you about it.

2. "Let me pick up the milk, pizza...(insert food item here)" I could really use help with lunch/supper now and then. I love to cook, but hate to decide WHAT to cook. We live 10 minutes away from even a corner store, so dinner = preplanning. The less I have to do, the better.

3. "You look great." "You're doing great." "You're a super mom." "You're husband is so lucky to have you." "Insert compliment here." What I'm doing is hard. My main cheerleader is gone. My kids complain. A little bit of heartfelt flattery goes a long way. 

And here's one for just me...

4. "I loved your query...please send me your full manuscript!" Sorry, had to say it. My biggest project for the week ahead is to FINALLY send off a couple of queries to agents in hope that one of them will support my book. A wholelotta anxiety over that one, I can tell you! I've spent over a year editing and coddling it since my last misguided attempts(yup, I did EVERYTHING wrong with those first queries). It's time to let go again, and see what happens. Query number one went out today. Wish me luck.

Brenda

Life lessons from my parents

My mom and dad.

Today, September 25th, 2014 marks the fiftieth anniversary of the day my parents walked down the aisle together.

Fifty years is a long time.

Half of a century.

And it is indeed something to celebrate. An accomplishment not often heard about in today's day and age. And though circumstance has dictated that we should be on two different coasts today, they are both very, very much on my mind and in my heart.

I've wracked my brains for some 'thing' to give them that would show them how much I love them. How much I appreciate them. How much they have meant to me. How proud I am of them and how they have shaped my life.

But how do you put a value on such feelings? How do you properly honour the people who gave you life and breath, put you on the right road and supported you even when it was they who needed support?

You don't.

And so here I sit at my laptop. Wishing I could be somewhere else and yet trying to share with the world how I feel. How do you put the appreciation for fifty years together into words?

I can only try.

When I was about 4, while my dad was out at work, my mom taught me how to read. My dad encouraged it when he came home. I'm pretty sure they thought I was from another planet because my desire for books was insatiable. I ate books. And I could not WAIT to get to school. I don't think they realized it at the time, but those first picture books were the makings of a career. Of a passion. Of a love that would last a lifetime.

Around the same time, my dad taught me how to fish. And hunt. And work a garden. And I learned to appreciate growing things and the earth around us. My mom taught me to bake by baking. And how to sew by sewing. How the work doesn't go away on it's own. I learned to make hay when the sun shines and to appreciate the rain when it comes.
I learned how much hard work goes into feeding a family. How sometimes you can put hours and hours of work into a project and have it fail, but you can't stop trying.

My mom taught me to appreciate the quiet times. To be still. To look beyond the moment and to have faith. She taught me that sometimes I have to stick up for myself--but that doesn't mean I have to be mean or vicious. You can be strong without being hard. Strength comes in many forms.

My father, a true handyman, taught me that I can repair just about anything with the right tools.

Together they fostered my independence from day one. They didn't coddle me (although my older siblings would disagree), and they didn't spend every waking hour entertaining me. They had work to do, and they did it. I played by myself. I found things to do. I read. I went outside. I climbed trees and I made leaf sailboats. I played with toy cars in the dirt and I ate apples right off of the tree. In letting me explore, they encouraged my imagination. Sure, times were different then, but I think in doing so, the taught me one of the basic rules of parenting. Kids learn by doing. They need to explore their environments and make mistakes to grow. I made lots of mistakes. But I learned. Sometimes I made the same mistake over and over again. But sooner or later I did it right.

Lastly, having watched my parents from day one, they taught me that the best things in life are not free. Love comes with a price. Hard work, long hours, sacrifice, and heartache are the currency of love and marital success. Forgiveness sometimes comes at heavy cost. No marriage is perfect. Often we hurt those we love most, and we have to dig deep to ask forgiveness. And sometimes things are too broken to be fixed, but you can't know that unless you first try to put it back together.

No matter how happy it looks on the outside, there are always issues. But getting through those issues together, humbling yourself, recognizing your differences and accepting them, brings huge rewards. My parents have taught me that. They find happiness in each other's company. They understand they are two distinct individuals and they have spent fifty years discovering how two parts can become one whole.

I am so incredibly proud to call them my parents.

I am here today as a testament to their love and dedication to one another.

And so, Edna and David Corey, I thank you for all that you have done for me. And I wish you many, many more years of happiness together.

Happy anniversary,

Brenda

World Diabetes Day

The blue circle, the global
symbol for Diabetes

On a completely non-literary, non-military note (I know, it's been a busy couple of weeks here on my blog!)today--November 14th--is World Diabetes Day. I'd like to take a moment to think about that fact.


As you may or may not know, diabetes and the Dunne family are well acquainted with one another...our youngest was diagnosed with type 1 (juvenile) diabetes when she was 5 years old. Since that time, she has had almost 18,000 finger poke blood tests, thousands of needles, and many thousands of dollars of medication (mainly insulin) and treatment. But you know what? She's a healthy eleven year old. We've had many sleepless nights, but she lives a pretty normal life. We are blessed.

But we would still love a cure.

So today I'll be wearing blue, the color of Diabetes Awareness. Will you join me? It's pretty easy to do. Throw on your blue jeans and voila! Instant support. Tell your friends you're doing it for Kate. And then pop a comment down below to let me know that you're wearing blue today--for Kate, or someone else you know.

What does a cure for diabetes look like to my family? Check out my little VIDEO (a throwback from previous years) to see.

Brenda

Military Monday: Listen Carefully by Vicki Morrison

Vicki L Morrison

Today's blog is a piece sent to me by my amazing friend Vicki Morrison. Vicki and I have been friends since we met at the Greenwood Military Family Resource Centre about ten years ago. Now a part-time freelance writer (with articles in many newspapers and popular magazines including the Canadian Military Family Magazine) and working on her first novel, she's also my writing BFF.  She is a proud Canadian, a proud military spouse and manages a full-time job while organizing the busy schedules of her three adorable kids. I hope to see her on the blog frequently (hint, hint Vic) over the next few months, as she also has been aware and hugely supportive of DEPENDENT from its infancy.

Listen Carefully
by Vicki Morrison

So, a couple of days ago I'm sitting at my desk at work and I overhear one colleague say to another, "It's a good thing Canada has the U.S. Military to look after us. What would we do without them?" Now, I'm not going to deny the Americans have a fantastic military. They do. I just happen to think that the Canadian Forces does a lot more (a lot more effectively) with it's limited resources and manpower, but as a Canadian military spouse I am a little biased.

So what did I say when I overheard this ignorant comment? Nothing. What did I do? Nothing. I didn't even correct them. Typically Canadian, eh? No quick comeback, no point in getting into an argument, no point rocking the boat. I went back to work, tucking their comments away for the drive home when I would protract a witty, enlightened rebuttal - effortlessly refuting their stupid diatribe.

A week later the anniversary of 9-11 came around. As usual it hit home and it hit hard. The memory of that day slamming me back in time. That feeling of helplessness; knowing there was a chance my best friend, my husband was going to be involved in fighting terror. There was a chance he would go to war. He didn't, but many CF members did. Friends, colleagues, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters. Some didn't come back. Some came back with souls and bodies so bruised and torn they will never be the same. I thought back to the conversation between my colleagues I had overheard. The day I couldn't find the words to speak up on behalf of the Canadian Forces. The day I couldn't be bothered to argue on their behalf, rock the boat, educate the ignorant? I was ashamed.

I made a decision to never let the opportunity pass again. The opportunity to represent the Canadian Forces as a military spouse. To speak for those who no longer have a voice. To stand up for my husband's profession, his bravery, his dedication. On the anniversary of 9-11 I sat down with my co-workers and I told them about life as a military family, about my friends who are military spouses too. As military families our stories are varied and, in some cases, unbelievable. But they're our stories and they need to be told.

So I prayed with my co-workers. For our military. For wisdom and clarity for it's leaders and courage for all soldiers. I made my point. There are stories to be told. Words, once only whispered behind closed doors, that have to rise above the din of everyday Canadian life. Only when those stories have been heard will the Canadian Forces – members, and the families that stand behind them, be respected. Respected for the sacrifices they make everyday, across this country and across the globe.

So listen carefully. Our voices are rising. The words have been penned. Soon, you'll hear our stories. We will not be ashamed.
Thank you Vicki, for stopping by the blog and sharing your thoughts. Hope you can come again soon!

Brenda

You can find Vicki on Twitter : @Morrisonminutes
On her blog here.
Or on Facebook here.

Military Monday: Meet Marie Cotter

Happy Military Monday to you!

Today's guest post is by a new friend of mine, a wonderful woman I had the good fortune to meet through my husband while he was away on course in Toronto. She was a student on the same course, and has been a first rate supporter of my writing career since we met.



Marie Cotter: friend and
military spouse!

Marie is a wonderful example of the strength of Military Spouses--she has persevered through some
extremely challenging times, and has a successful career and family. She's lived through some (but thankfully not all) of the experiences my heroine in DEPENDENT lives through, and she's proven that life goes on. Not only that, but life can go on in a positive and enriching way.


Meet Marie Cotter, military spouse and proud Canadian!

                                               

 ~~~~~~~~~~

Background: Tell us about yourself, in relation to the Canadian Forces, that is.

My Mom and Dad met at Stadacona (in Halifax, Nova Scotia), and my Dad had a full career in the military.  Lots of moves as a kid.  I joined the military for a while, and I married the funniest, coolest guy in NATO.  A few more moves.  Sadly, I lost him in a training accident, but was surrounded and supported by the Regimental family.  Now twice blessed, I’m remarried, again to another terrific military guy.  All that time, I’ve been either in the regular force or the reserves myself.  I count the military spouses as sisters, not just friends.
 

Why do you think military spouses are special?

If you’re a military spouse, you already know this, so you can skip over it.  Keeping the home fires burning isn’t just trite expression.  The husbands and wives of our uniformed folks do what most would quickly become discouraged with and abandon – we keep our home going, bills paid, daily tasks accomplished, children cared for and loved.  Oh yeah, and lots of us hold down jobs.  Without our spouse around to pitch in, provide support, encouragement, or call the appliance repair guy.

We do that, knowing our husband or wife will be returning next week, next month, or next year.  We deal with the school problems (hoping it’s the right thing to do), shoulder the household issues, shovel the driveway or mow the lawn.  Accepting invitations to social events, knowing we’ll be alone or maybe with a “stand-in”.  We rely on babysitters to escape the young ones for just an hour or two.  We comfort the kids and keep them happily anticipating their Mom or Dad’s return, and reassure our families who are likely in a different part of the country all together. 

Military spouses and national security? Really?

I’ll bet you haven’t thought of this angle.  Let’s face, it.  A lot of military spouses are wives.  Lots of dudes, too, but the majority are women.  And women aren’t typically the ones to blow their own horn.  So you won’t have heard this often ... or at all.  Well, I just completed a 10-month program examining National Security, and I am convinced our military spouses one of the country’s great strengths.  The same goes for many other nations too.  Here’s why.

Our uniformed folks, the majority being men, go off on deployment to some pretty crazy places.  Here’s the thing.  He (or in some cases she) has the reassurance of knowing that someone is waiting, and keeping a life going somewhere sane, where the rules and expectations are familiar.  And where he (or she) is wanted and loved.  And knowing there is an open pair of arms at the end of the day is what keeps people going.  I’ve been those loving arms, and I’ve needed those loving arms to be folded around me. 

I am certain that knowing there is a beating heart and an open pair of arms allows our uniformed folks to focus completely on doing what they do in those crazy places.  Doing Canada proud. National Security?  Damn straight.

~~~~~~~~

 

Thanks so much Marie, for sharing your thoughts! Hope to have you back on the blog again soon.

 

Brenda 

My Wonderful MSP

(Most Supportive Person)

A loooooooong time ago, I met a guy in a flight suit. He had that flight suit swagger--you know the "I fly big fancy planes" walk that Tom Cruise perfected and many others have attempted in various

degrees of success. Well the guy I met was also named Tom and he was rather cute. Although I had sworn up and down I would NEVER end up with a military guy, let alone a PILOT...well, he swaggered his way right into my heart.

Sixteen years ago today, I said 'I do' to this uniformed man in a little church the little town where I grew up. Although times have occasionally been difficult and we've spent many, many months apart, I have never regretted it. He is a wonderful, loving, thoughtful father to our three amazing children, and the most supportive and caring husband. He is my best friend and my partner-in-crime. My sounding board and my life-line. He has read thousands of pages of my drivel and always finds just the right thing to say to make it better. He has worked endless hours on the phone and on the computer finding contacts and bookstore managers and newspaper reporters and connections to help my books find homes. And he never complains. He is always there when I need him, whether a million miles away or in the next room. I am so incredibly blessed to have him by my side.

Sixteen years seems like a long time and just a heartbeat. So many moves, so many changes, and so many exciting moments. The ride is just beginning, though.

Tom and I all gussied up.

I hope we have sixty more happy years
together.

Happy Anniversary Thomas Dunne!.