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Long before the debate over the Affordable Care Act, the military’s own government-run health care system has been, for me, a mixed bag. On the one hand, my health care has always been “free” (if you can call paying with duty, deployments and, sometimes, life “free”).
Of all the household chores and repairs I’ve had to face on my own in Dustin’s absences, the one that I still feared the most, until last week, was using Great Stuff Foam.
People sometimes wonder if I love or hate being a military dependent. It’s a good question, and one I’ve asked myself.
Amani Bradshaw scored 17 points to lead the Patterson Middle School seventh-grade girls to a 42-23 win over Eastern Hills on Nov. 16 in the championship game of the Killeen ISD preseason tournament at Ellison High School.
Again, Dustin said I shouldn’t write this column. Last week, apparently he was right. This week, he is not.
ustin told me not to write about military spouses for Veterans Day, but I’m going to do it anyway.
Since the ubiquitous integration of GPS on our devices in our everyday life, I have found myself off the beaten path more often.
When the boys asked what I wanted for my birthday last week, I decided to make it less painful for them. “Just take me to the Star Wars concert performed by the Portland Symphony Orchestra, and (wink, wink) that will be a great birthday,” I said.
Lately, the family and I have been doing something really old-fashioned at night. Because the sun is setting earlier, we get in our pajamas right after dinner. I light some scented candles, and sometimes I bake cookies or pop popcorn. And then — here comes the old-fashioned part — we watch television together.
My experience with weight as a child went something like this: I was skinny. The end.
These are the times when it’s difficult to write a column. After Theresa’s powerful message last week, I have nothing more to add. And yet I’ve thought of little else, except what she and her boys are going through.
To the Editor:
I regretted last week’s column as soon as it was published. In particular, I regretted that I wrote this: “(O)ur spouse’s jobs don’t become significantly more dangerous just because the U.S. is taking action (in a conflict).”
When things like the situation in Syria pop up, people always want to know how military families feel. Do you agree with the president? they ask. Are you prepared for your husband to possibly deploy? Are you worried?
I hate to say that I’m glad “I’m not the only one,” because it means that others have suffered from anxiety and phobias, too. But reactions to last week’s column about my failed attempt at flying in an airplane have made me feel somewhat normal. (OK, maybe not “normal,” but not alone either.)
After nearly 17 years of an all-consuming fear of flying that left me grounded, I got on a plane in July with my husband and flew to Washington, D.C.
This week, my oldest son, Ford, begins seventh grade. He’s technically been in “middle school” for a year now, but this summer was the first time I saw, with startling frequency, a glimpse of the changes ahead: my first baby is stuck in that painful space between a boy and a man.
I had a deal with the mother robin who has made a nest outside our kitchen window for the last four years. That deal included things like, “I’ll stop judging your parenting if you stop judging mine,” and, “Mind your own business; I’ve got three birds — I mean, kids — in here, OK? And they don’t eat worms.”
The story I’m about to tell you is hard for some people to believe. After hearing it, they ask a series of predictable questions: You hired these people, right? (Answer: No.) You knew them ahead of time? (Also, no.) Are you joking me? (No.)
You have thoughts about what the military is “like.” All of us do. Yes, even those of us who are affiliated with the military. Even those of us who have been with it, in one way or another, for more than 36 years.
Continued from last week...
I hadn’t flown in a commercial airplane for 17 years. Yes, even though both my husband, Dustin, and my dad are Navy pilots. After 9/11, I honestly thought I’d never would fly again.
When I tell people I live in Maine, they almost always ask about the moose. And it turns out there are many misconceptions about moose, such as the idea that they outnumber people in Maine, but the biggest of all is probably that they exist to begin with.
Just in time (or not — keep reading), and on the heels of my previous columns about fatherhood and the military, comes Armin Brott’s book “The Military Father: A Hands-on Guide for Deployed Dads.”
Reactions to a recent column about Ford’s last year of Little League surprisingly helped solidify my points in another recent column (about the changing role of fatherhood and how it affects military dads), which, by the way, also received interesting reactions.
Belton Senior Activity Center’s annual Christmas party is from 6:30 to 9:30 p.m. Dec. 19 at 842 S. Mitchell St., Belton.