In Omnia Paratus: Not So Much

Cary screenshotted us from Okinawa.

A newsletter I get through work has great quotes. They usually make me laugh, or feel happy or encouraged. But this one edition brought up a Latin quote from Gilmore Girls – "in omnia paratus." Or "ready for all things" essentially. I liked it. And then I didn't.

We felt ready for deployment. We were. Prepped to the point of creating ease and paving the way for help and peace of mind. You can't be ready for all things. No one is always coming. Yet we're putting pavement beneath and behind us every moment.

The snails there are huge.

I watched a movie about bears with the kids, and aside from the amazing things mama bears do – like mamas in real life – I mainly resonated with their hibernation, which works for a lot of necessary recharging especially at the beginning of deployment. Then there are the days I commit to two birthday parties for different reasons and stumble into bed feeling tired in my bone marrow.

Jules: Are you gonna be back for my birthday?

Cary: No I'll miss your birthday. And Cole's birthday... And mama's birthday. But I'll be back for mine.

Jules laughs.

For the first few weeks when I'd hear the neighbor's gate or ours when something's delivered, I couldn't help but jump inside thinking it was him.

Cole got potty-trained in the nick of time. Not before pooping at the same friend's house a second time and wondering if pink eye was coming for us this time.

I also don't love when we get home and they didn't eat enough hosted dinner, so now I have to give them second dinner before bed. I don't do it the next time.

With this friend – who dealt with the threat of poop again and kids complaining the sausage is too spicy while falling out of their chairs and screaming – I discuss signing up for things. Swim this time since she's been jumping through hoops like I had several months before. Why is signing kids up for stuff so complicated sometimes? We ponder.

I now drive a minivan. It's my favorite minivan and green and ours with an affordable Nevada plate and doors we don't have to interact with nor seats we have to squish into with guests, but it still killed a little of my soul and chipped away a little of my identity. I wanted to rage against the minivan. But it's a vehicle. And I'm practical. So it's me and can handle the mountains we visit. I buy knock-off expensive sneakers six months later and feel a little bit better too.

We're in the van, just Jules and I heading from after-school care to get Cole from daycare.

Jules: I'm so glad I was born.

The best weekends with this sassy angel and my sour patch kid are spent on the couch with two breakfasts in a row plus an outing where we breathe life into the truck that sits lonely all week. In the evenings or in bed I decompress, sitting in the quiet for a moment and listening to my breath or heart that I think beats too fast these days, feeling solely responsible for them and feeling every pulled muscle from the day. Exhausted but wanting to look at pictures and videos of them on my phone like most parents. Needing alone time but feeling lonely.

Sometimes when I share a schedule idea with the kids... "How about we eat and get ready then go to the library then the park."

Cole says: I like your plan, Mom!

I learn only military spouses understand.

At work the single parents and parents and married couples and former service members or spouses relate. At work, without operating on anyone or operating an aircraft, it's a break and a lovely workout for my brain. It's something that's mine alone, that I can care about with both a selfish and selfless, passionate level of service and skill.

At opposite points in the day, besides the weekend vegetation or sense of adventure, the kids are there and then not there. I can't soak up every detail enough during the day. I want to drink them up and feel them inside me again, keep them safe. However I don't want to be wiggled and kicked against or jumped on, spilled on, sneezed on.

The more I learn, the more I realize how much I don’t know. Albert Einstein.

We all miss Butters.

I want to prove them right. That we can do it.

We're running out of gas and I'm getting used to the van fuel gauge. It's dangerously low suddenly on my way home from work, and I'm not sure exactly how many miles to the base gas station though it's near. After grabbing Jules and then pulling away from Cole's daycare I say I hope we make it.

Cole: "I believe in you, Mom!

Me too.

Old Town has been the best excursion yet.