The lists continue to arrive.
Now we not only have a list of what to bring to eat...but clothing too.
A favorite shirt or two, comfy socks, a bathing suit.and a pair of jeans.
But wait...there's more!
Not only is there a long list of clothes he would like, but the second half of the list is comprised of the items he wants "ready to eat" in the car. It's hilarious. Not only is it separated by food group...but it's grown to more than 8 lines of things to have ready to open and consume as soon as he is in the car vs. what he would like to have on hand for our free time in the hotel. Good thing we have a suite!
Oh...and the food groups?
All things hostess....twinkies, ho ho's, cupcakes, donetts and king don's.
Meat...and lots of it. Chicken, steak and every edible animal on the planet, along with Montreal Steak seasoning.
Cold cuts...ala Subway
Fast food via Taco Bell, Wendy's, Cinnabon, Sonic and McDonald's
Buffalo Wild Wings...a class all by itself
Beverages....Monster (I can only imagine what will happen here...with someone who has had Zero caffeine for nearly 3 months), Mountain Dew and chocolate milk, which by the way, he says is great with Cheerios...
"You should try it Mom!..and have Emily over so she can try it too!"
And lots and lots of great movies to watch, some games to play and a spot to just chill, chat and chomp.
Sounds like a great time, doesn't it?
Yeah, I thought so too.
27 days to go.
Now for the latest news on the basic training front....
We've learned how the unit is split up for the 220 guys.
There are 4 barracks with 55 Soldiers in each one. Each unit is numbered. And each Soldier is numbered.
Michael is number 26, in the first unit, therefore his number is 126.
Red phase, the initial and hardest of the phases has finally completed and the units have fully moved now into the next phase, the white phase. This did not happen right on schedule as hoped as "lots and lots" of the guys did not pass the testing for red phase. And someone snuck cigarettes into barracks 3 and 4, causing the guys to get "smoked" and having their barracks searched. Thankfully, the first barrack was found clean.
Whew.
He says they have the toughest DS (drill sergeant) and though initially thought to be bad news...this is really working well for them. When tested out of red, he missed one question...not realizing til then that his DS was the Master, or Head, or Chief...or something like that.
Whoops.
Red includes multi mile marches hauling 60 pound packs. If the guys fall behind, they are given orders to hang onto the Soldier in front of them...and Michael found himself doing just that at one point...causing him no amount of difficulty as the guys behind him dragged and the guy in front of him kept insisting he let go....the end result was that my Soldier had to haul the 10 guys behind him for the final miles of the march...and leaving him livid with anger.
Yup, I'm still thinking of heading down there and straightening them all out.
Move over Mr.Drill Sergeant...I'm a mom and I have something to say.
So there is great relief in the air as they leave red behind and go to white. No more 5 minute meals..with no choices, no time and Drill Sergeants hovering over every hurried bite.
Eat what you are served Soldier!
Consume it and move it Soldier!
White gives freedom....of sorts.
The Soldiers are now allowed to walk themselves to the meals..allowed to choose their own food items and even allowed free time after their dinner meal. The are "strongly" encouraged to continue P.T. in the evening.
I surmise that strongly means "do it".
The training is now focused in more ways than one....but the most important is the focus of your weapon. As many may know, my Soldier is no stranger to target shooting. So it came as no surprise to read that he did great on the closest targets..and even did well with the next distance.
What blew me away was when he said that the furthest target was too far away to see clearly.
Huh?
He hit it 2 out of 5 shots into a target hundreds of feet away.
My goodness...I can't find a parking space in hundreds of feet, how can he hit a target with one tiny little bullet?
The Soldiers did well though and within days the entire platoon passes, earning a phone call home this w/e.
And that is where we stand today. Happy to hear the voice of a great distance away. The voice of a young man with the hopes and dreams of becoming a Soldier in the U.S. Army.
Dreams do come true and we live, pray and hold onto each little tidbit of news.
Waiting for 27 days to pass and flights to soar across the miles separating us.
Holding each breath in anticipation.
Reminiscing about the voice of a boy turned man so many miles away.
Sunday, March 21, 2010
Wednesday, March 3, 2010
The busier I am the faster time flies....
It's been three weeks and a lifetime of hanging out the upstairs window watching the mail truck move along the nearby blocks in town. Pondering the possibility of the US Postal Service forgetting our address, I played with the idea of standing outside with a megaphone announcing my presence....but that was apparently not needed as the mailman has started waving at me as he passes on the other side of the block What is really cool is that he no longer carries a taser when he walks up the step. We've settled into a safe routine of permanent committment.
He may even like me..he thanked me when I told him last week that I had been not only praying for letters and news...but also had prayed for snow (long story....). Can you imagine....a mailman thanked me for the snow!
Stalking has proven worthy as we've had three letters plopped into the box in the past couple of weeks. One was a brief explanation of how to address letters...with a sad caveat about the condition of the handwriting...
"been doing pushups in frozen sand, so fingers are frozen".
Do you suppose his drill sargeant would mind moving over while I bring him some hand warmers?
Mealtimes are FIVE minutes from beginning to end. Do you know what I can do in five minutes?
Absolutely nothing. Good grief, it's taken me longer to write this paragraph than that!
Breakfast is ok, eggs, pancakes and french toast.
Lunch and dinner leave much to be desired....once eaten tuna pasta...oh my.
After I boot the drill sargeant out of the way, I'll be heading for the kitchen.
We've learned about a 36 hour "local" pass he'll be granted in April. Hotel is reserved as all he wants is a comfortable bed, and food....and to be sure we got the picture, he listed the food he would like us to have prepared and ready....
Are you ready for this?
Steak, Subway Chicken Bacon Ranch sandwich, Wendy's Baconator, pizza, McDonald's Double Cheeseburgers, Monster, Mountain Dew, chocolate cake, fudge and reese's.
Good gravy! The food budget will be bigger than the cost of our flights down and my cholesterol levels rise by the moment.
It's hard to read about gas chambers and multi mile marches, pushups in the snow and night time chores that steal sleep all but 1 out of 4 nights.
Should I mail him his favorite pillow?
Hand deliver wool socks?
Abscond with the drill sergeant's alarm clock?
There has been a virus taking many of them down, so in lieu of church last Sunday they were granted an hour off in the barracks. Michael chose that time to write some letters home. He says he is reading his bible every night before sleep, and he really wanted to send information home. Hey Mikie! You remember us!
I'll have to remember to take antibioitics and some Nyquil with me too.
Oh...and his blanket. A set of warm fuzzy slippers.
Or maybe I'll just stay here and wait. Breathless and busy. Staying in touch with each day, writing letters and hoping for news. Hesitant calm of a fretful parent.
I'll put his pillow in the truck just in case....
Trusting that the next 6 weeks will soar past in both Georgia and Michigan.
Loving from afar with the prayerful passing of time.
It's been three weeks and a lifetime of hanging out the upstairs window watching the mail truck move along the nearby blocks in town. Pondering the possibility of the US Postal Service forgetting our address, I played with the idea of standing outside with a megaphone announcing my presence....but that was apparently not needed as the mailman has started waving at me as he passes on the other side of the block What is really cool is that he no longer carries a taser when he walks up the step. We've settled into a safe routine of permanent committment.
He may even like me..he thanked me when I told him last week that I had been not only praying for letters and news...but also had prayed for snow (long story....). Can you imagine....a mailman thanked me for the snow!
Stalking has proven worthy as we've had three letters plopped into the box in the past couple of weeks. One was a brief explanation of how to address letters...with a sad caveat about the condition of the handwriting...
"been doing pushups in frozen sand, so fingers are frozen".
Do you suppose his drill sargeant would mind moving over while I bring him some hand warmers?
Mealtimes are FIVE minutes from beginning to end. Do you know what I can do in five minutes?
Absolutely nothing. Good grief, it's taken me longer to write this paragraph than that!
Breakfast is ok, eggs, pancakes and french toast.
Lunch and dinner leave much to be desired....once eaten tuna pasta...oh my.
After I boot the drill sargeant out of the way, I'll be heading for the kitchen.
We've learned about a 36 hour "local" pass he'll be granted in April. Hotel is reserved as all he wants is a comfortable bed, and food....and to be sure we got the picture, he listed the food he would like us to have prepared and ready....
Are you ready for this?
Steak, Subway Chicken Bacon Ranch sandwich, Wendy's Baconator, pizza, McDonald's Double Cheeseburgers, Monster, Mountain Dew, chocolate cake, fudge and reese's.
Good gravy! The food budget will be bigger than the cost of our flights down and my cholesterol levels rise by the moment.
It's hard to read about gas chambers and multi mile marches, pushups in the snow and night time chores that steal sleep all but 1 out of 4 nights.
Should I mail him his favorite pillow?
Hand deliver wool socks?
Abscond with the drill sergeant's alarm clock?
There has been a virus taking many of them down, so in lieu of church last Sunday they were granted an hour off in the barracks. Michael chose that time to write some letters home. He says he is reading his bible every night before sleep, and he really wanted to send information home. Hey Mikie! You remember us!
I'll have to remember to take antibioitics and some Nyquil with me too.
Oh...and his blanket. A set of warm fuzzy slippers.
Or maybe I'll just stay here and wait. Breathless and busy. Staying in touch with each day, writing letters and hoping for news. Hesitant calm of a fretful parent.
I'll put his pillow in the truck just in case....
Trusting that the next 6 weeks will soar past in both Georgia and Michigan.
Loving from afar with the prayerful passing of time.
Monday, February 15, 2010
The postman delivers and the phone company forgives....
2 weeks into our 227 weeks of wondering, waiting and praying for news.
With the call from the Reception Batallion, all our hearts settled down and life settled into a level pace of normalcy. Back to work, home and the gym, finding peace in the gift of a daily routine.
The mailman has either decided to ignore my nose on the window, or is used to it by now, or perhaps is too frightened to address it.
I'm grateful that the phone does not have video output. Both the cell and the house phone are within reach no matter where I go...the kitchen, the bedroom, the office and yup.....you guessed it, the shower. I've got it down to a science...I can turn off water, mute the radio and say hello in 2 seconds flat. Were there Olympic Gold for such behavior, I'd be standing on the top of the podium glistening in gold.
No coach needed, neurosis needs no tutor.
We've now received two letters. The first took 5 days to arrive from the date written, so it was hard to guess how much may have changed since it was penned. He says he is still doing well, has been bunked with a fellow he really likes..and who "takes it pretty seriously, which is nice because a lot of guys don't". Threw up after all the vaccinations, as did many of the guys. (At this point I wonder if the army needs my help down there taking care of those poor guys). Holding my breath with every word, I wonder if each letter and small scrap of news will cause my now familiar sensation of gasping for air.
There's a smattering of .initialed mumbo jumbo like ACU, BCT and at least one I recognize, the PX. I have no idea what those things mean, so off to google I go.
It's reassuring to read the comfort in the words written. A settled peace in each sentence.
On Thursday, he called briefly one more time, this time with the news of his pending move "downrange". The real world of Army basic training.
And blessed with one more split second of a call to tell us that the address he sent is not correct..and that we should wait until we get a new one before we send letters.
So it's back to stalking that poor mailman and bathing with the phone.
Praying, waiting and gasping for air.
Clinging with all I have, the peace that transcends all.
With the call from the Reception Batallion, all our hearts settled down and life settled into a level pace of normalcy. Back to work, home and the gym, finding peace in the gift of a daily routine.
The mailman has either decided to ignore my nose on the window, or is used to it by now, or perhaps is too frightened to address it.
I'm grateful that the phone does not have video output. Both the cell and the house phone are within reach no matter where I go...the kitchen, the bedroom, the office and yup.....you guessed it, the shower. I've got it down to a science...I can turn off water, mute the radio and say hello in 2 seconds flat. Were there Olympic Gold for such behavior, I'd be standing on the top of the podium glistening in gold.
No coach needed, neurosis needs no tutor.
We've now received two letters. The first took 5 days to arrive from the date written, so it was hard to guess how much may have changed since it was penned. He says he is still doing well, has been bunked with a fellow he really likes..and who "takes it pretty seriously, which is nice because a lot of guys don't". Threw up after all the vaccinations, as did many of the guys. (At this point I wonder if the army needs my help down there taking care of those poor guys). Holding my breath with every word, I wonder if each letter and small scrap of news will cause my now familiar sensation of gasping for air.
There's a smattering of .initialed mumbo jumbo like ACU, BCT and at least one I recognize, the PX. I have no idea what those things mean, so off to google I go.
It's reassuring to read the comfort in the words written. A settled peace in each sentence.
On Thursday, he called briefly one more time, this time with the news of his pending move "downrange". The real world of Army basic training.
And blessed with one more split second of a call to tell us that the address he sent is not correct..and that we should wait until we get a new one before we send letters.
So it's back to stalking that poor mailman and bathing with the phone.
Praying, waiting and gasping for air.
Clinging with all I have, the peace that transcends all.
Thursday, February 4, 2010
Stalking the mailman
I've become one of those slightly nutty ladies peering from behind the curtain as the mailman approaches. Hopefully he has not noticed that I've become obsessed with his timing and each step as he carries news to each doorstep. . Watching his every move as he works his way around to our house, at the very end of his lap around the block.
We'd read that the new soldiers were strongly "encouraged" to contact family sometime in the first 48 hours after arriving at base. 36 hours after watching Michael move out of our sight...we're waiting.
I'm terrified that our phones will all die. Worried sick that our mailbox will fade from view and we'll miss "the call" or "the letter".
Heading to work is a real dilemma...what if the call comes while my phone is in my locker. What's Michael going to think if there's only voice mail to hear him?
I trust God..but I'm not so sure about Sprint and the US Postal service.
Dragging my sleep deprived self to work on Friday morning I am discouraged, convinced that I going to miss the first call from our family soldier. Disappointed at having to leave my post behind the curtain.
My coworkers had put up with and supported my tears yesterday, but I was ill prepared for their greeting today...."do you want to go home?". Well, duh! My feet never touched the ground as I race out the door.
Fifteen minutes late my phone rings.
Time stopped as I heard the first news. He's fine, has had no sleep, has no hair left and is full of holes from all the vaccinations he got yesterday. Food is "not bad at all", and uniforms come tomorrow. His voice is light and he sounds genuinely happy. We part with I love you's and we're praying. Wow.
In seconds it's over.
Now it's back to stalking the mailman. Waiting and watching behind the curtain.
Living life as normally as possible, pretending not to notice the empty space in the house.
And finding joy in each precious day.
We'd read that the new soldiers were strongly "encouraged" to contact family sometime in the first 48 hours after arriving at base. 36 hours after watching Michael move out of our sight...we're waiting.
I'm terrified that our phones will all die. Worried sick that our mailbox will fade from view and we'll miss "the call" or "the letter".
Heading to work is a real dilemma...what if the call comes while my phone is in my locker. What's Michael going to think if there's only voice mail to hear him?
I trust God..but I'm not so sure about Sprint and the US Postal service.
Dragging my sleep deprived self to work on Friday morning I am discouraged, convinced that I going to miss the first call from our family soldier. Disappointed at having to leave my post behind the curtain.
My coworkers had put up with and supported my tears yesterday, but I was ill prepared for their greeting today...."do you want to go home?". Well, duh! My feet never touched the ground as I race out the door.
Fifteen minutes late my phone rings.
Time stopped as I heard the first news. He's fine, has had no sleep, has no hair left and is full of holes from all the vaccinations he got yesterday. Food is "not bad at all", and uniforms come tomorrow. His voice is light and he sounds genuinely happy. We part with I love you's and we're praying. Wow.
In seconds it's over.
Now it's back to stalking the mailman. Waiting and watching behind the curtain.
Living life as normally as possible, pretending not to notice the empty space in the house.
And finding joy in each precious day.
Friday, January 29, 2010
Life is like a waterslide
Early last week, Michael, Emily, my dear friend Anne and I drove down to Kalahari waterpark, one of Michael's "last requests". We roared down waterslides, relaxed in the hot tubs and frolicked in the wave pool without a care in the world. My favorite slide of all is the "toilet" one. The four of us piled into a round raft, plopped our butts into the separate spots provided and pretzeled our legs into the middle. We were a whirlwind of motion as we struggled to be the one on top, but when all was said and done, Michael's knees ended up on top of all of ours...sticking out at an awkward angle. We hung on, got pushed into the tube and were instantly screaming with fear in total darkness. Swirling wildly in different and unseen directions we roared with laughter as we hung on in anticipation of each twist and wild turn. When we reached the next "level" there is a swirling bowl of water....yup, just like a toilet bowl. We slowed very quickly, pitching me forward onto Michael's outstretched knee. The color is faded now, but I had a great shiner to show from having been flushed down a toilet with my family and friends. We ended with one more flush and were shot into a big pool, laughing our fool heads off.
Life is like that. You have an idea of where you are headed, but you are not the least bit aware of what lies ahead. Twists and turns bring about surprises, hurts and perhaps even a scar or two. You have no real control, but sometimes the best choice is just to go with the flow. The end may come as a surprise, but the memories never completely disappear.
On Tuesday, four of us piled into the truck for the drive to Lansing. Michael, Emily, John and I were trying to stay positive, but it was not easy. As much as you can prepare for such change, there are still unexpected moments. Our room was the very last one in the hotel and was enormous. The largest suite in the entire place with a master suite, a heart shaped jacuzzi, 2 enormous TV's and mutiple couches and chairs...and a dining room. Heavens to mergatroyd! Settled in with takeout steak dinners (yup...Michael was really living it up!), we settled in for the night and spent the evening relaxed, enjoying each others company and hanging on dearly to every moment. Personally I was dreading the moment when Michael would leave for his room, but we managed to make it ok...and with huge clinging hugs we said good night. Goodbye number 1.
None of us slept well.
At 0445 the door opened and Michael walked in to say goodbye once more. He left shortly after for the MEPS. Goodbye number 2.
We ate a quick breakfast and headed out for MEPS and the complete unknown.
The rest of the day is best described as "hurry up and wait". We were able to spend time together between physicals (he gained 9 lbs!), lunch and multiple other odds and ends. We got serious and the emotions started swirling at the Swearing in Ceremony. Families are allowed to stand against the wall in the room, facing the "shippers" as they hold up their hands in an oath to the United States of America in solitude and solidarity.
Thankfully the soldier in charge added humor and some smiles to the service, which gave me what I needed to maintain my fragile composure.
Afterward there is a "mock ceremony" for the families present to take pictures and have one last tiny chance to witness the transformation of a man. (Pending my technical abilities...you may get to see some of this.)
Moments later we lined up near the door of the building applauding and cheering as "America's newest heroes" silently march past us as they exit the building. Goodbye number 3.
Following the bus to the airport was a race for each light as we managed to hit every single light for 6 miles..and that stupid bus got every green. Thank goodness for Garmin...we managed and got there just as they pulled in.
Goodbye number 4 came all too quickly as he headed away from us just an hour later. We stood mesmerized as he took off his shoes, and passed the security check.
He rode an escalator up and in an instant we lost sight of him.
Gone from sight, I felt a moment of complete breathlessness....and finally the tears began.
We hugged and headed home.
Exhausted and shell shocked.
And so it goes....a beginning of a new adventure. Fears, smiles, hope and prayers.
God be with you my son. We are home praying and waiting for you.
Life is like that. You have an idea of where you are headed, but you are not the least bit aware of what lies ahead. Twists and turns bring about surprises, hurts and perhaps even a scar or two. You have no real control, but sometimes the best choice is just to go with the flow. The end may come as a surprise, but the memories never completely disappear.
On Tuesday, four of us piled into the truck for the drive to Lansing. Michael, Emily, John and I were trying to stay positive, but it was not easy. As much as you can prepare for such change, there are still unexpected moments. Our room was the very last one in the hotel and was enormous. The largest suite in the entire place with a master suite, a heart shaped jacuzzi, 2 enormous TV's and mutiple couches and chairs...and a dining room. Heavens to mergatroyd! Settled in with takeout steak dinners (yup...Michael was really living it up!), we settled in for the night and spent the evening relaxed, enjoying each others company and hanging on dearly to every moment. Personally I was dreading the moment when Michael would leave for his room, but we managed to make it ok...and with huge clinging hugs we said good night. Goodbye number 1.
None of us slept well.
At 0445 the door opened and Michael walked in to say goodbye once more. He left shortly after for the MEPS. Goodbye number 2.
We ate a quick breakfast and headed out for MEPS and the complete unknown.
The rest of the day is best described as "hurry up and wait". We were able to spend time together between physicals (he gained 9 lbs!), lunch and multiple other odds and ends. We got serious and the emotions started swirling at the Swearing in Ceremony. Families are allowed to stand against the wall in the room, facing the "shippers" as they hold up their hands in an oath to the United States of America in solitude and solidarity.
Thankfully the soldier in charge added humor and some smiles to the service, which gave me what I needed to maintain my fragile composure.
Afterward there is a "mock ceremony" for the families present to take pictures and have one last tiny chance to witness the transformation of a man. (Pending my technical abilities...you may get to see some of this.)
Moments later we lined up near the door of the building applauding and cheering as "America's newest heroes" silently march past us as they exit the building. Goodbye number 3.
Following the bus to the airport was a race for each light as we managed to hit every single light for 6 miles..and that stupid bus got every green. Thank goodness for Garmin...we managed and got there just as they pulled in.
Goodbye number 4 came all too quickly as he headed away from us just an hour later. We stood mesmerized as he took off his shoes, and passed the security check.
He rode an escalator up and in an instant we lost sight of him.
Gone from sight, I felt a moment of complete breathlessness....and finally the tears began.
We hugged and headed home.
Exhausted and shell shocked.
And so it goes....a beginning of a new adventure. Fears, smiles, hope and prayers.
God be with you my son. We are home praying and waiting for you.
Monday, January 25, 2010
Precious minutes of time
January rains with cold damp air outside. Inside the house it's warm and cozy...for those of us wearing sweaters and flannel. Michael is fast asleep and is completely at rest. It defies my imagination that it could only be 24 hours before we have to leave for Lansing and he's sleeping while I try to stay calm. Today is part fun and some work getting last minute details worked out. I can't believe that I have to sign a power of attorney for my son today. How could that be?
Michael's favorite cinnamon rolls are in the oven. Dinner will be a steak dinner at his brothers house where the three kids will run around like pinballs causing absolute chaos and the adults will hang dearly onto every minute and every laugh. I hope like crazy that his niece and nephews remember him in the years he is away. They are nearly 5, nearly 2 and 7 months old, perhaps a pipe dream, but I worry.
Pasting a smile on my face and heading to the kitchen in my flannel jammies.....
anne
Michael's favorite cinnamon rolls are in the oven. Dinner will be a steak dinner at his brothers house where the three kids will run around like pinballs causing absolute chaos and the adults will hang dearly onto every minute and every laugh. I hope like crazy that his niece and nephews remember him in the years he is away. They are nearly 5, nearly 2 and 7 months old, perhaps a pipe dream, but I worry.
Pasting a smile on my face and heading to the kitchen in my flannel jammies.....
anne
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Introduction and Initiation
Welcome!
My name is Anne and I am a new Army mom. My son Michael is a new Army recruit and is due to ship out to basic training in just a few days time. We are full of emotions, fears hopes and dreams. Our faith is sustaining us at this time, along with a huge amount of love and support from family and friends.
Please join us as we accompany Michael on this amazing and life changing journey.
I will be posting as often as possible, giving updates and details about Michael's life in the Army...from a mom's perspective. No doubt there will be times when I will not share completely his whereabouts for the safety of all concerned, but I will try to be frank about how we feel. I do hope that you will join us as we watch and wait for news.
So...here we go!
My name is Anne and I am a new Army mom. My son Michael is a new Army recruit and is due to ship out to basic training in just a few days time. We are full of emotions, fears hopes and dreams. Our faith is sustaining us at this time, along with a huge amount of love and support from family and friends.
Please join us as we accompany Michael on this amazing and life changing journey.
I will be posting as often as possible, giving updates and details about Michael's life in the Army...from a mom's perspective. No doubt there will be times when I will not share completely his whereabouts for the safety of all concerned, but I will try to be frank about how we feel. I do hope that you will join us as we watch and wait for news.
So...here we go!
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