Jessica Scott

Well, it’s been a week since I left my kiddos and I’ve got to say, settling in has been depressingly easy. It’s as though the last two weeks of leave have been nothing but a blur. I wonder how the kids are doing. I’ve tried to call but Mom has been keeping them busy to keep their minds occupied, which is a good thing.

For myself, I slept a lot, trying to get back on the right time. Jet lag hasn’t been nearly as bad for me as it has been for my husband, who’s on day shift. But, if by jet lag, you mean the normal insomnia hasn’t hit, then you’d be right. It’s truly funny that I have more time for a shower and shaving my legs in Iraq than I do in the States. You wouldn’t think that being a soldier takes less work than being a mom but in my case, it seems to be true.

Slipping back into the writing thing has been tougher than I thought it would be, until the internet went down and I was forced to stare at my computer screen. Putting on some new tunes by a favorite band and digging into revisions and before I knew it, I’d crossed over the thousand word threshold. Not a lot for me, but better than nothing considering I haven’t written anything for the last month.

And the other exciting news I have to share is that I’m now part of the Mom’s Writer Literary Magazine team. You might have seen the announcement on my website, but I’ll be blogging with the gals over there as well. My first blog is due on 10 July, so I’ll be sure to post a link to it then. In the meantime, I’ve got to come up with something profound to say in my column titled “Wearing Mommy’s Combat Boots”.

All in all, it’s been all to easy to slip back into the routine. I guess I expected things to change but nothing has. We’re still here. It’s still hot and dirty and people are worried about the wrong things.

Business as usual, I guess.

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I’m sitting in JFK, waiting for my ungodly long layover to be over with. I’ve got internet and Starbucks (after an obscenely long wait and rude service) and I should be in a writer’s paradise, right? I mean, after all, I haven’t written anything on my WIP in two weeks and I’ve really only started thinking about my writing career the last few days to take my mind off leaving my kids once again.
So I should be thrilled, right? Peace and quiet. Chilling and writing?
Yeah, not so much.
My heart hurts. My youngest was up this morning at three when I was getting dressed (there was a lobster that was going to bite her) and she asked me to ‘nuggle with her. Each time I thought she was asleep and I’d try to extricate myself from her embrace, she’d tighten her arms around my neck. It just about killed me. My oldest didn’t wake up, but it was a close thing (you can hear a bug walking on Mom’s floor).
Finally made it out of the house for my brother to take us to Bangor Airport (the troop greeters were there, which is awesome). Did fine until a little guy on our flight was screaming. Most passengers were upset because the kid was crying. It worked me over pretty good because all I could imagine was my daughters getting themselves all worked up looking for Mommy and Daddy today.
God this sucks. I keep telling myself that it’s worth it to give up a year of my life to provide for my kids and in 18 years when my daughters have both of their college educations paid for that it will be worth it.
Right now, that’s a pretty cold comfort.

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As we’re getting ready to go, the normalcy of everything is striking. To include the urge to publicly pull a Kate and spank my kid. Surely not, you must think. What kind of parent is leaving for another five months to a combat zone loses her patience within the last twenty four hours of getting ready to go?

Me.

Initially, the girls were being fine. Just laughing and having a good time. But then the touching and the grabbing and the I wants kept going and going and going. They were like two little energizer bunnies and it stopped being funny after we sat in Dick’s Sporting Goods waiting for Daddy to pick out some fishing equipment (this takes longer than me in Saks on any day of the week, trust me on this one).

When they refused to stand still any longer, I was that crazy mom carrying one kid out of Sears under my arm and pulling the other one behind him.

They say kids acting out prior to parents deploying is normal. I’ve heard from other spouses that in the days before a deployment, the sniping and the bickering get to the point where both are relieved when the plane finally lifts off. The kids have both done something similar today and while at the moment, I would have been glad to get on a plane, that feeling only lasted about a second before the guilt started.

I told my husband that I felt bad for losing my patience with the kids. He said he understood but that it was more important for him to have fun before he left than to make them behave. Maybe he’s on to something. Maybe he’s not. But either way it goes, one of my precious fifteen days was spent arguing with my kids. I can’t get this day back but tonight at bedtime, I talked to my girls and asked that we try to make tomorrow as good as possible before we left.

So we’ll see how it goes. Wish me luck.

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The worst Night Ever

So we’re back at Grammy’s now and the girls are settled right back in. Leave has actually gone very well. The girls have had a blast and I for one, have been focused on letting go of rigid parenting (like normal bedtimes) and just enjoying my time with the girls. For the most part, the kids have done a fantastic job adjusting and slipping back into family mode

Or so I thought.

Tonight, mommy tried to get an hour of mommy time to visit with her long time high school friend. I figured I’d been nothing but Mommy from the minute I walked through the door and I had gladly enjoyed every single minute. But I also figured that being back at Grammy’s, the girls would relax a little and be a little less clingy.

Boy was that a mistake. Within a few minutes of me not being in the room, both girls were crying and screaming. By the time they’d cried it out, their little eyes were all puffy and red and I’ve won the worst parent in the world award.

My oldest wrapped her arms around my neck and said Mommy, things aren’t going to be the same without you here. Then it dawned on me. While we were in Delaware, the girls were having fun and pretending that we really were a family again. Now that we’re back at Grammy’s and not heading back to Texas, reality has struck both of them like the 18 wheeler Grammy drives: Mommy and Daddy are leaving again. Time is such an adult concept that my kids don’t have any way of really counting down other than to look forward to winter and some time around Christmas for us coming home.

It really busted me up tonight taking even that small amount of time from them because every minute is so precious. In the long run, I know that when we get back to Texas, my kids are going to have an adjustment period and life will take a little longer to slip back into whatever normal is for our family. But for now, Mommy’s going to give them their bed time and whatever other time they want.

I’ve got three days left and it’s not nearly long enough.

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It’s amazing how quickly everyone falls back into the same old patterns. The honeymoon is over and just like that, both girls once more are just kids instead of the kids of deployed parents and I’m just a mom, instead of a soldier mom with a truckload of mommy guilt. I’ve discovered a lot hasn’t changed since I’ve been gone and some things I don’t think that ever will.

For instance, I’ve accepted the fact that I will never again be able to go to the bathroom by myself. There is no way my almost 3 year old is willing to let me out of her site. She might be attached to Mommy by a very short string but she doesn’t want anything to do with Daddy, hence Mommy is on call all day ever day. And since my four year old is not too old to go to the bathroom with daddy, it’s all mommy all the time. Which leads to some long lines in the ladies room and hopefully, other mom’s understand what’s taking so long (you can’t beat a 2 year old off the pottie with a stick if she’s determined to go poopieJ).

My four year old is very much a daddy’s girl except when it comes to bed time. Then she wants Mommy snuggles. I can’t tell you how touched I was that both girls wanted me to ‘nuggle’ with them as they fall asleep at night and what’s funny is that I have nothing more important to do than nuggle until they fall asleep. I wouldn’t trade eight hours of uninterrupted sleep in Iraq for the fits and turns I get here with one ear always listening for the girls. Of course, I’ve also found the cure for insomnia: chasing two kids around non stop from 6 am til 8 pm (or thereabouts).

The biggest thing that has changed is that when my girls want my time, they get it. While it might feel like everything is back to normal with us, I know that it’s not. I have a very short amount of time with them right now and the only thing I can do to make the next five months easier on them is give them every bit of time that I can.

And that’s a change in me as Mommy that I think will get me a lot down the road with my relationship with my daughters.

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We stopped in Ireland on the way home from Iraq. I walked around the airport, simply enjoying being back in civilization. Coffee and bars and duty free shopping. What’s funny is that the people around us looked at us like we were a spectacle. One lady asked us where we were coming from and where we were going. She was incredibly nice, her accent gentle and lilting. Another gentleman, we’re pretty sure he was American stopped and shook our hand and said thank you.
But all in all, Ireland was just a comma in my journey back to my kids. I saw a lady walking around the airprt with her two little girls. Both blond, both young. The little one was tiny and adorable. It’s funny how watching a small child drag a rolling suitcase will inspire tears in random adults but it did. The kids were so adorable and a longing I cannot fully describe began burning in my chest. When people say their hearts ache, do you know what they mean? The anticipation wraps around me and brings tears to my eyes.
Just a few more hours and I’ll be home. I’m not even there yet but the thought of coming back to Iraq is breaking my heart. So I do what I always do. I shut it down and turn it off and cling to the anticipation of seeing my babies. Of the fights and the hugs and the kisses and the laughter. My husband and I wonder if the cats are going to beat up the kids. If our recently adopted horse (aka Lily, the 100 pound yellow lab refugee who joined our family from a rescue shelter) is going to remember us. Have our cats gone feral living with my brother in law?
And what about the kids? Will they understand that mommy and daddy have to go again? Will they be angry and lash out, destroying their rooms and the story books I’ve made for them? Will they kick the dog because they don’ t know what to do with the hurt inside of them?
All I know is that our choice has been made and our kids have to live with the impact of our choices. I hope and pray that it’s the right choice and that in the long run, the girls will be okay and that in a few more months we’ll be a family again.
Notions of patriotism seem kind of far off when your daughter is wailing into the phone that she wants to go home. I hope she understands someday. Because hope and prayer are about all I’ve got to cling to.

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After 2 days of travel, finally made it home to Maine. Kids are amazing and so different, it’s not even funny. Will post more when I’m not emotionally drained but wow, it’s good to be home. Everything smells so clean and fresh and good here. And I won’t even start on how much the girls have changed but will post more some other time. Thanks to everyone who wished us well! More soon!

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So I’m leaving on R&R in the next few days and this will probably be the last post I make for a while. Given that I’m going to one of the only houses in the US that does not have Internet access, unplugging will probably be painful but good.

In honor of my vacation from the sandbox, I have accomplished a grand total of nothing tonight. Couldn’t concentrate on the new book. Couldn’t sleep. Really did nothing but drink water in prep for the 1ac20 degree heat in Kuwait.

But, I thought I’d leave you with a few of the things I’m NOT going to miss about Iraq for the next few weeks. Not sure if I’ll get to ten or not but here goes.

10. Showering alone. There’s nothing more disconcerting than walking to the shower and discovering that your favorite shower stall (the one that actually drains right, is not covered in mold and has decent water pressure) is taken. And you’re late for work. Then you have to explain why you’re waiting for a single stall when others are taken and looking like a weirdo.

9. Waiting for my favorite shower stall. Now, I’ll only have to share my shower with my children, who I’m sure can’t wait to get in the shower with me. Yay, naked baby buns!!

8. Walking to the shower. In flip flops. In the dark. Hoping that the denial about camel spiders and cobras will continue without you a, stepping on one or b, having one jump on you.

7. Being in uniform. I love the army. I love my uniform and completely respect what it stands for. But damn! I’m ready for girlie clothes and makeup and feeling like a woman instead of looking like a hot ass mess (for you Tamara)

6. Not feeling like a skank for putting makeup on. Yes, I’m going ultimate girl when I go home and I’m going to glam it up. Course, when I come back to Iraq, it will be back to no makeup and under eye circles galore.

5. Porta Potties. Nothing says deployment like the smell of a porta pottie in 110 degree heat. And then finding that there’s no toilet paper. Good times.

4.  Eye protection. Yes, I’m wearing cute sunglasses when I get home, not the military grade ballistic eyewear that will keep me safe and looking like I’m wearing my grandfather’s driving glasses.

3.  The Chowhall. I really don’t think this is going to require clarification.

2.  Body armor. It’s safe. It’s heavy. And it adds 20 degrees to your core body temperature.

1.  Briefings. Useless briefings where we read the slides and tell everyone information they already know. Yes. The only reading/briefings I’m doing when I go home is to my kids. I’m going to enjoy the heck out of my time in the states and come back ready to redeploy.

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Apparently, I have a genetic predisposition to worry incessantly about something. The constant redesign of my website comes from two things: one, I want it to look like a typical writer’s website and two, I don’t want it to look like a typical writer’s website. So I continue to worry and stress. I almost had a damn panic attack about this foolish thing before I went to sleep this morning (yes, that means a new site is up).
Several weeks ago, my husband went out in sector with the brigade CSM. I told myself he was going to be fine and I was not going to worry. Yeah, right. I got to my CHU and started imagining getting woken up by The Knock. The worry that I’d open the door and see the chaplain standing there. It got so big in my head, I had to force myself to go to sleep. And when he came in and woke me up to tell me he was back, the relief that crawled across my heart was insane.
You’d think that now that I had an agent, things would settle down in my head, right? Wrong. I keep thinking that this is all a dream and that Kim is going to email me one day and so oh, so sorry but you misunderstood me. Seriously, this is the new thing I’m worried about. I mean, come on, she’s got fantastic clients like Julie Kenner, Brenda Novak and Allison Brennan.
So the neuroses continue on the writing front. Julie Kenner swears it never goes away and I’m starting to think she’s absolutely right.
On the home front, my hubby and I are going on R&R next week and I’m starting to get wound up about that. Not the going home part. Not that first hug at the airport or the constant Mommy I want your attention part. It’s the leaving part. I haven’t even gone yet and I’m upset about having to come back.
Really? Is this normal? Or am I just going quietly crazy over here, finding things to worry about to keep my mind busy?
Right now, it’s 230 in the morning. I’m going to file my nightly report and then sit down in front of my Macbook and write. I’m hopefully going to channel all this insanity into a character that will be stressed out but sympathetic and hopefully not crazy. You’ll have to tell me what you think of her, if she ever gets published.

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