Observing the Kids

Today we went to the nursing home and soccer practice again. At the nursing home we encourage them to hug the older people and sing songs and recite things they know. Mikey is overall pretty good at it, but he can be annoyingly clingy. But he's exceptional when he wants to be. Sami however, she doesn't do a thing. She's basically just there. She gives people snacks but she only does that because she wants one of the snacks when they're done handing them out. It's clearly not her cup of tea. But, I'm trying to figure out a way to encourage her to enjoy it in some way or another. I do not want to force it on her so I let her alone most of the time. Roman is too young to do anything other than be cute and that makes him a hit on his own.

One thing I've noticed too is that Sami also knows much of what I'm teaching Mikey, but she refuses to do it on her own. There have been times that she will do large chunks of Psalm 23, the Pledge, the ABC's, or counting, but she rarely wants to do any part on her own and I don't know if she's ever done anything completely on her own. One thing I have to remind myself is Mikey is what I believe to be accelerated so I can't compare them to each other. Overall, Sami is probably on par or even advanced in comparison to other almost three year olds, but it is interesting to observe.

I observe it mainly to learn what she (and Mikey and Roman) enjoy and excel in. I want to encourage them to do things they like and do them well. I also want to know how best to teach them. They are both extremely competitive. Mikey will do anything if you make it a competition or if you reward him with praise in the end. Sami will do things in a competition - usually, but not always. She will only do things if she's motivated internally (kind of like her dad). She has to be gently nudged, but she will not do it well if she's forced - and she may come to hate whatever it is that you are forcing. Unfortunately, I'm not good at gently nudging and I'm still trying to work on that myself as well as figure out other ways to motivate her. Roman's hard to tell still, but he tends to be fairly compliant. Unlike the other two (specifically when they were his age), when I tell him "no", he will often stop what he is doing and do something else. He is pretty easy to distract and he can usually find something to make him happy. However, he does have strong emotions. He has been angry before and made me laugh at his display of emotion. He gripes angrily with a clear grimace on his face. He has even pushed me and thrown things out of anger - which for his age seems a little extreme. When he is in his high emotion moments, he is often non-distractable until he is finished expelling his emotion. For the future, this tells me that I will have to allow him to go through a complete emotional timeline before we can move on to anything else.

At soccer practice everything is similar, but it seems to me that I do have some athletic children. As I mentioned before, the coach mentioned that Mikey handles the ball well and I have to agree, he does handle it well. Some of this may be that he wants to be just like Daddy and that means that he has to be good at soccer so he has that motivation. Plus, Daddy has worked with him on a few soccer techniques. But, he really does seem to have a knack for it and also seems to really enjoy it. The same goes for Sami. As I mentioned above, I can't make her do anything, but when she does practice (which she voluntarily does for the majority of the practice) she does really well too. She can dribble and make a goal. She can trap too. One thing I am also noticing is that if I encourage them at this point to do things that others would probably think are advanced they are better at the skill. For example, in dribbling, most are satisfied if the child can keep the ball near them and going the specified direction without using their hands. I am constantly telling them that they need to keep it near them or I will steal it and also that they need to use both feet when dribbling. When I do this with Mikey (at this point Sami is usually off in her own world) he improves his technique. Plus, he thrives on the competition of not letting me steal the ball. My suspicion is that Roman will enjoy soccer as well because he loves any kind of ball and he's extremely tough (I don't know if that was genetics or two older siblings).

Overall, I find it fascinating to observe the kids. Primarily, I really want to figure out their dreams and encourage them to pursue them. I want to help them focus on them and motivate them to attain them and to never quit at reaching them. Yes, I want them to be ambitious. But, I want them to be ambitious on whatever it is that drives them. I believe God gives us our passions and desires and as a parent, I feel it's my job to help them find those God-given desires and then encourage the God-given direction to achieve the following dreams.

Delight yourself in the LORD and he will give you the desires of your heart.
--Psalm 37:4

Memorial Day Weekend

When Michael's away I dread holidays, especially the patriotic ones. I don't want to be the person whose imposing myself onto another family but I find myself in pity parties as I sit on my front porch by myself with the kids while every house around me is having a cookout with cars parked down the street. I hate being pathetic. And, it doesn't help when during the patriotic church service I find myself bawling as we remember those that have passed away serving our beloved country.

So to battle the pity parties I kept us as busy as possible. However, on Friday night my weekend didn't start as I had planned. Roman slept way too long in his nap to allow me the activities of working out and dining at Chick-fil-a. So, I had to scramble to get dinner made and discovered that my chicken had expired and with the $3.96 per gallon gas, there was no chance of driving a minimum of 16 miles to the nearest decent restaurant to eat out so we had PBJ and smoothies. To top it all off, I spilled my smoothie across the kitchen counter and the tractor died half way around the block and I had to carry it the rest of the way home.

On Saturday, we went and purchased landscaping materials (otherwise known as plants) and then landscaped the flowerbeds . This took four hours and it was a bit painful with only a few tears. Check out the background on the pictures below, it's hard to see because everything's still small, but I'm pleased. It kept us busy and I completely forgot (I tried to anyway) about the smell of grilled hamburgers, hot dogs and the sound of laughing children and families in the houses surrounding me.

Sunday we had church and ate out with friends afterwards, that was a good distraction for a good part of the day. Plus, friends from church invited me to a cookout for Monday evening - this meant the world to me because I had been "eavesdropping" on cookouts all weekend long!

Monday, the actual holiday, was the big hump. I was able to wake up with the anticipation of a holiday cookout with families, that was very helpful, but it wasn't until 6PM that evening. I decided to distract us with some retail therapy for some fun outdoor activities from Target's blessed "one spot". We already had most of these items, but these were new and so I enjoyed sitting on the porch and watching the kids have a good time with them. The kids loved the bubbles and the rockets and of course, the tractor came out.

Finally, five o'clock rolled around and it was time to start getting ready to head on to our holiday cookout! Even Mikey was anxious for some holiday fun (and to see his sweet little friends Jasmyn and Jocelyn)! He kept asking if it was time to go yet. As soon as we got there, the kids were on the trampoline.

Jasmyn and Jocelyn had brought their Barbie Jeep so they took it for a spin. Roman started chasing it around with glee, so Jocelyn decided to take him out for a drive. You can see that this jeep moves pretty fast and can turn on a dime. Roman had to hang on, but loved cruising with an older and beautiful woman!

Then, what would a holiday cookout be without some volleyball! The kids settled in to watch the game! I even jumped into the game, but that did leave Roman on his own a bit though...

After the game (games actually) it was "Apple Pie Time" announced by one of the pregnant ladies (finally, this wasn't me, but I agreed quickly!). The kids joined us after chasing some lightning bugs. After the apple pie, we sat back and watched the fireworks. Roman didn't like those so much. That was our cue that we should get going (even with a bonfire brewing in the backyard) and take baths and go to bed.

Overall, the holiday weekend wasn't so bad. One of my neighbors even sent over an invitation for a graduation party in the next couple of weeks. It'll be nice to actually eat the food and talk to the people...

Bald Head Island

Earlier this week we went on a trip to Bald Head Island to visit with the Wolock's while they stayed at the Hartshorn's (thank God for such wonderful friends!). It was a wonderful and beautiful getaway. I fell in love with the idea of having a house to take myself out of my current reality. Of course I didn't forget that Michael was in Afghanistan and that two more Marines there died the same week, but as I was listening to a radio report about the activities in Afghanistan while pulling into the ferry loading zone the static began and reality became a relaxing island retreat. We had to ride a ferry and leave our car behind.

The only way to get around on the island was by golf cart! It was a dream come true! The irony is that of all the things we saw, dolphins, a lighthouse, the beach, pelicans, a fox, the kids most loved the golf carts. I enjoyed the golf carts because they represented my short-lived escape.

Since I used a bunson burner with my dad on a beach as a teenager, I don't remember being so relaxed on the beach. Back then, I didn't have any responsibilities and dad drove me around and planned everything. Life was good. This time, I had responsibilities (three little lives to be exact), but for some reason I didn't feel so burdened. The kids played and the Wolock's helped. There was nothing to do, but relax and have fun and so, that's what we did.

Mikey and Sami had great fun playing in the waves. They didn't get too deep, but they had fun. Sami said there was soap in the water - the bubbles were white like bubble bath. Mikey enjoyed seeing the boats and airplines too. Roman, however, he loved it until the water touched his foot. He would scream as if he were in pain and scared all at once. He practically would climb up my leg like my sugar glider used to do (imagine a chipmunk climbing up your leg).

The sand was great for all (except that it gets everywhere). Mikey discovered that it is fun to get buried in the sand and so Sami joined in the festivity. Roman found it great fun to put my shoe on and walk around... he's a bit silly.

Unfortunately, the time came to an end and on our way home we were welcomed back to reality with a flat tire! Oh well, we had a great time anyway. Thank you again to the Wolock's and the Hartshorn's!

Heat and a Coincidence

Letter from Michael
May 23, 2008

It has been pretty quiet around here as of late. It seems like more an more personnel are moving into our FOB. Real estate is becoming more scarce, and we are having to move our stuff around. My berthing area is right smack dab in the middle of the FOB. I am right next to the chow tent, which makes that part of my life a bit easier. The hardest part about life in Afghanistan , other than the sheer boredom, is the heat. Now that we are in late May, the temperatures are rising with no relief in sight. Last week was a personal record for me, as I experienced temperatures above 120 degrees for the first time. It was 122 to be exact. Yesterday, our Navy docs said that it hit 130 degrees, breaking my week-old record. At 130 degrees, there isn’t much you can do other than find shade. We received a shipment of energy drink, and it was sitting in the sun on palates, boiling in the heat. The stuff is carbonated, and I guess the heat was just too much, as the cans started to explode. I was walking by, and at first it sounded like someone was taking pop shots at us. But we are so far removed from anything that I knew nobody could be shooting at us. Then I realized it was the cans of energy drink exploding. Weird.

I have been sleeping outside as of late. It just gets too hot inside of our bunkers, and I like sleeping under the stars, which are as bright as can be out in this desert. The other night, I was sound asleep, when all of a sudden, THUD! THUD! THUD! Several loud explosions rocked our camp. I jumped up, ready to don my body armor and grab my weapon. Then it dawned on me that those explosions were the sound of outgoing British artillery, and not incoming. The Brits, known the world over for their manners, could have kept up their reputation and given us fair warning. Nevertheless, I fell right back asleep under those stars. The same cannot be said of the Taliban.

I have become good friends with our chaplain. He is from the little town of Bayou Chicot , Louisiana . He’s Southern Baptist, so we get along well. As the Chaplain, he is officially in charge of cheering up the troops. He receives big care packages from churches around the country, usually filled with razors, toothbrushes, candy and gum. The other day, he got a box from First Baptist Church of Jacksonville, NC, which happens to be his church back at Camp Lejeune . The box was filled with goodies for the troops all sorted into ziplock bags. He took them out to the troops to distribute and was about to run out. He noticed that he only had 2 bags left, but it didn’t look like anyone else needed a bag, so he decided to keep one bag for himself, something he rarely does because he rarely has extras. He stuffed one of the ziplock bags into his backpack and asked if anyone needed the other extra he had left over. One Marine raised his hand and stated that he didn’t get a bag, so the chaplain gave him the bag. As he sat down to go through that one last bag he had left, the one he stuffed into his backpack, he noticed something. Back at First Baptist Church of Jacksonville, the people who had taken the time to lovingly put together those ziplock bags of goodies had also slipped in a Polaroid photograph of the person who had put the bag together. They were random pictures of various members of the church. Well, this particular bag, the last bag he had left, after distributing dozens of bags, just happened to have a Polaroid picture of none other than the chaplain’s very own daughter. How amazing is that! He unashamedly said that it brought him to tears. A big cardboard box full of dozens of ziplock bags to be given to Marines, of which the very last bag left, the one bag the chaplain decided to keep for himself, which he rarely does, happened to contain a picture of his little girl. God truly works in amazing ways.

Cubbies Awards

Today was the Cubbies Award Service at church. Mikey received an award for completing a whole book of scripture memorization. He has memorized more verses than I have in my lifetime - at age 4!

During the awards presentation the Cubbies all sang the Cubbies song and Mikey sucked his thumb the whole way through - except for the part he was supposed to hop. Then, he would let his thumb linger in front of his mouth (with his hand playing with his hair still) and hop and then quickly reinsert his thumb for the next portion. Later when I asked him why he wasn't singing the song he said, "I was busy sucking my thumb."

Pictures of Michael

Sleeping with a Speak N Say

Letter from Michael:
May 16, 2008

I had the opportunity to go outside the wire again the other day. This time, I was blessed with the good fortune of spending the night. I had to go to where one of our platoons is located to do some “lawyer stuff” as the grunts like to call it. We had detained some individuals and they were probably bad guys. My mission was to make sure that all of the evidence (i.e. photos, seized items, sworn statements, etc.) was as it should be so that when the bad guys eventually get transferred to an Afghan facility, they don’t just release them citing lack of evidence. We want to make sure that the bad guys don’t end up back on the streets once we’ve captured them. It took longer than anticipated, so I had to spend the night. I pack very light, but I had the foresight to prepare for just such an occasion. I brought my little travel toiletry bag, a sleeping bag liner, and a little net to go over my face. Also in my small backpack were baby wipes, a notebook, and a kneepad. We wear the kneepads in combat because when you get shot at, you need to get down fast. Sometimes you go flat on your belly, sometimes, if you have a wall or something in front of you, you take a knee. With all of our gear and ammo on, we are easily carrying an extra 40-50 lbs, and trying to get up from your belly isn’t always easy, especially if you need to do it fast. So we prefer to kneel, except that kneeling for long periods of time can really start to hurt. Enter the kneepad. A small, lightweight device that provides much relief.

Once I came to the realization that I needed to spend the night, I had to find a place to sleep. The platoon I was with was staying in a farmer’s house. It can only be described as a little mud hut with a little stable attached. The houses here have thatched roofs, and birds and bugs like to burrow in them. I decided to take my chances outside, where there is fresh air and a view of the night sky, but I wanted to be behind a wall (we were very close to enemy territory). So I chose to sleep in the stable. Bad move. Although there were no animals actually in the stable, there were certainly animal smells. I slept on the hard ground, and struggled to get comfortable between the small rocks that dug into my back, the straw and hay that poked into my back, and the constant buzzing of insects that would not leave me alone. I was very thankful that I had brought that little face net. Finding a soft place for my head proved impossible, and then, in a stroke of genius, I turned my kneepad upside down and found that my head rested nicely in the padded part. Kneepads, it turns out, can serve as emergency pillows in a pinch.

I can’t really describe my condition at that point as comfortable. Pain-free is probably a better term. And so I tried to fall asleep, mindful not to move my body even an inch for fear that I would lose that pain-free equilibrium that had taken me the better part of 10 minutes to find. At last, I started to doze off when, all of a sudden, the animals. It was as if I had taken a Speak n’ Say to bed with me. You remember the Speak n’ Say? The little kids’ toy that has an arrow that spins in a circle and each sector of the circle has an associated animal. Whatever animal the arrow lands on will make its noise. “The cow says…MOOOOO. The sheep says….BAAAAAA. The rooster says….COCKADOODLE DO!” Apparently, Afghan roosters can’t tell time, because they were crowing all night long. In the distance, stray dogs were talking to each other. Needless to say, I didn’t get much sleep.

Another fascinating part of my little excursion was seeing how the Marines were doing. These are the real warfighters. These are the Marines that are at the absolute tip of the spear, on the front lines. It really is a surreal phenomenon how quickly the human body can adapt to adverse conditions. It was only my second time outside the wire ever, and yet I was already beginning to adapt. I understood that the enemy usually strikes us at particular times during the day, and that the Marines have come to learn and even eagerly anticipate the next firefight. I was there to do my bureaucratic duty, but it would have to wait, because the Taliban would be shooting at us soon. The Marines looked forward to it. Partly because it’s what they’re trained to do, and partly because it is without doubt the only respite from an otherwise boring day. I even found myself anxious out of morbid curiosity. When I arrived in Afghanistan , I was horrified at the thought of someone else shooting at me. And here I was just weeks later eager to experience the adrenaline-fueled moment. Luckily, I was able to take a step back, evaluate the situation, and realize my folly. I reminded myself to exercise caution and that this was no game, that life can be snubbed out in an instant at 500 yards. After coming to my senses, I tread carefully, and kept my head on a swivel. Minutes ticked by, eventually an hour or two passed, and no action. I was half relieved, half let down. A fellow Marine once told me that “you never feel as alive as when someone is shooting at you.” I guess a part of me wanted to feel as alive as possible. But the other part of me wanted to not only feel alive, but to stay alive.

Before heading out to their location, I had passed around a box and asked the others “back at the office” to chip in and donate anything that might make the lives of those Marines on the front lines easier. A pack of cigarettes, a British “adult” magazine, some gummy bears, some powdered Kool Aid, a water pistol(?), and a deck of cards. Of all those items, most prized were the pack of cigarettes and the deck of cards. In the end, I was able to get my job done. I thanked the Marines for their assistance an hospitality. They thanked me for the box of goodies, and we parted ways. I returned to the safe confines of our forward operating base, they to their machine gun nests and outposts.

Rockets and Tractors

I just wanted to post this fun...

Texas Trip Summary

We just returned this week back from our month long adventure in Texas. The kids and I traveled with the three dogs all the way to Jackson, MS by ourselves. I actually feel quite proud of myself for that feat. We actually had a very good time. We made each stop fun and exciting. Even an ordinary gas station was fun because we all went to the field behind it and ran around. I actually felt very free.

When we arrived in Texas I was able to attend the Heartbeat Conference which was a great vacation for me. I love the people in the pro-life movement especially my friends from Option Line and Heartbeat. They are my closest friends and I feel at home with them no matter where on the globe we are located. In fact, a couple of weeks later when Mom and Dad offered me a trip to where ever in the continental US I wanted to go for the weekend - KID FREE - I chose Columbus to see them again even though I had just left them a couple of weeks before. It was a great weekend.

I also was able to go to both of Mom's center banquets which was neat to experience another center's banquet and get to share in the "family business" as a family. The first night I got to go with Dad in the 3000 GT which of course was Michael and my "getaway" vehicle from our wedding and the banquet happened to be at the same hotel we drove to after the wedding. It was very nostalgic and sentimental. Dad I talked about how we wouldn't have been able to predict that my life would be the way it is if you had asked us to while planning the wedding. Dad did say though that he's not surprised because our plans were always changing and we were always transient. However, the experience makes me want his 3000 GT even more (hint, hint Dad).

Overall we had a great time in Texas. I was glad to see the kids get to bond more with Mom and Dad and get to know GG and Papa Geno better. Unfortunately, we didn't get to see Michael's Dad because of logistical and timing issues. I'm not sure that I'll do that again with Michael away though. It makes it harder to return home because not only am I lonely now because I miss Michael but it also solidifies that having family nearby is nice (even if a bit frazzling sometimes).

Daddy Long Legs

During our trip to Texas the kids discovered Daddy Long Legs. It became a ritual for Dad and me when we returned home. Before bed we would take the kids to the front porch to see the spiders.

Kelle

The Pearl

Letter from Michael:

May 13, 2008

A couple of days ago, I was having a pretty bad day. Many of my friends and family have told me that my e-mails and journal entries have had a positive tone of optimism. That always makes me wonder if I am being honest with myself. Whenever I journal, I try to just let my thoughts flow in a steady stream of consciousness. The truth, whatever that happens to be, is my goal. This deployment is not what I had imagined or hoped it to be. The boredom is often maddening. As someone who possesses a highly specialized skill, I am frequently left to my own devices until those skills are needed. To use my earlier reference of a Thanksgiving dinner, it’s as if the main meal has been served, but dessert is not quite ready, and powers-that-be have told me, “Go into the other room and keep yourself busy, but stay out of trouble. We’ll call you when we need you.” For someone like me, who is what I like to refer to as a “binary” – by this I mean that I am either a 1 or a 0, I’m on or I’m off, no in between, I give you my all or you get nothing – being put on indefinite standby is painful. I want so badly to be an integral part of what I observe happening around me. I see such potential for greatness and for good things to be done. But the grunts, being supremely groomed for their occupation, sometimes have a singular purpose, and that is to blow things up and to kill bad people. Doing those things seldom requires the nuanced analysis of a lawyer. I just want to contribute, but if they tell me no, then what can I do but obey, for it is my duty.

So I was having a particularly bad day. I suppose you could even go so far as to say that I was feeling sorry for myself, a pity party for me, as it were. I started doing the only thing I know to do in such situations, I started reading my Bible and a Bible devotional that I have with me. I turned to no page in particular, but happened upon a devotional from early January. It told the story of how pearls are formed. I already knew how pearls are formed, but decided to read on anyway. You see, a grain of sand, or some other alien article finds itself inside of an oyster. The oyster, sensing the irritant, begins to coat the grain of sand with fluid that eventually solidifies. Over time, more and more layers are added and the end result is one of nature’s true miracles, a pearl. The spiritual lesson here is that in life, there are often irritants, whether they be the unkind words or hurtful acts of another, or simply a difficult, painful situation. But, if we can devote our hearts and minds to the goodness of God, and not wallow in our own self-pity, perhaps we too can see a beautiful pearl formed out of an irritating circumstance. It was a new perspective for me, and one that I had to hold on to with all my strength, as if my own life depended on it. I eventually emerged from the valley, and the past two days have been better. I just can’t lose that perspective.

Outside the Wire

Letter from Michael:
May 9, 2008

Yesterday, for the first time in my life, and after 6 years of military service, I had the opportunity of traveling “outside the wire”. “Outside the wire” is military speak for venturing away from the relatively safe and [less-relatively] friendly confines of our Forward Operating Base (FOB). Every grunt worth his salt yearns, even lusts for the chance to go outside the wire. You see, inside the wire, everything the Marine Corps does seems to be with the singular purpose of making life for those trapped inside the wire more burdensome. Working parties – small groups of Marines who appear to have nothing better to do than play cards, read a book or work out, are assigned laborious tasks such as burning the crappers (Marines prefer a different term but I will stick with “crappers” as it is the least offensive of descriptors). Yes, burning crappers. To understand the woes of such a task, one must first understand why such a task is necessary. We have no plumbing out here. Well, we have no mechanical plumbing. Nevertheless, God, in His infinite wisdom, gave the human body its own plumbing. And a human’s plumbing is like clockwork, unless something is wrong. With no mechanical plumbing, we are left to relieve ourselves in what can only be described as outhouses. You take a big gasoline/oil barrel, cut it in half, and build a rickety wooden structure to fit over it, and the end result looks like one of those old west-style outhouses. Well, with several hundred Brits and Yanks working all hours of the day and night out here, those half-barrels fill up pretty fast. One of the biggest concerns in a place like this is sanitation, so the only feasible solution is to burn our waste. Two Marines, usually very junior Marines or Marines who have done something to upset “the man” will be tasked with burning the crappers. They take some gasoline, soak the barrel with gas, then toss in a match. The good news is that the piles of waste are reduced to ashes. The bad news is…well, you can’t really understand just how putrid the smell is until it hits your nostrils. You can imagine, but you’ll never fully understand the smell of burning human waste until you experience it. Such is life “inside the wire”.

But I digress. So yesterday, a Lance Corporal (junior Marine) comes running into my bunker looking quite panicked. He tells me that I am needed in the COC immediately. I tell him that I’ll be right there. I meander up to the COC and am told that I have 10 minutes to get whatever gear I need to go out to the front lines to conduct an investigation. I can’t tell you what I had to investigate for security reasons, but let’s just say it wasn’t pleasant. I think it was God’s way of protecting me by giving me just 10 minutes to get ready. I had no time to let fear set in. Yes, I was scared. Not the paralyzing kind of fear, but the kind of fear that lets you know that you are alive, and that you want to remain alive. The survival instinct if you will. So I gathered what I figured I’d need: my flak jacket (i.e. bullet-proof vest that weighs about 40lbs), my M4 carbine rifle, and a backpack that I threw a bottle of water, 5 packets of Gatorade that I had stockpiled from lunch (to give to the troops on the front lines, the ones who really need it), some writing materials, and some baby wipes. If I had been given more time, I would have taken more time to think about what would have been really useful, such as bug spray, my camera, etc. But with only 10 minutes, I was in survival mode and just trying to get what I needed or thought I needed.

The drive out to the front was hot, dusty (hotter and dustier than normal because I was stuffed into the back of the Humvee like a refugee) and bumpy. There are no paved roads out here, just dirt trails that we have carved into the desert. We hit some big bumps and I am thrown from my seat into the ceiling of the Humvee. Good thing I am wearing my body armor and helmet. After an hour-long drive through a wasteland of desert, we arrived at a small village. I looked out of my window and saw what looked like the set of an old spaghetti-Western, a bad one at that. One main street through town, surrounded on either side by mud buildings. The place looked deserted at first. I saw not a soul. There were bullet holes in most of the buildings. Old and crumbling walls sat behind newer yet still crumbling walls. To keep outsiders out? Perhaps to keep the villagers in? The street was lined with trash. I couldn’t even make out what the trash used to be. As we pushed deeper into the village, I saw some children. They waved and gave us warm and honest smiles but with rotten teeth. I thought about those children and the kind of life they will probably live. A hard and, in all likelihood, short life. The life expectancy out here is not good, maybe 45 years. These kids were herding goats, and it reminded me of seeing my kids with goats. The only difference is that my kids were petting the goats at the National Zoo in Washington D.C. These kids were moving goats from point A to point B in order to survive, not as some sort of barnyard photo op.

We drove by one building and I saw pictures of Osama bin Laden plastered up on its walls. I wondered if it was the Afghan version of a wanted poster, or maybe it was a political ad…Four more years! Four more years! I kicked myself for not having a camera. We arrived at our location and I was greeted by several battle-hardened Marines. At this point in my career, I know better than to act as if I belong. I readily acknowledge that I am not a grunt, nor do I wish to be one. I freely admit that I am not a combat veteran, battle-tested and keen to kill. I am perfectly okay with that. I have always believed that the Marine Corps pays me to use my brain as a weapon. As a result, I tend to have a self-deprecating style and sense of humor, in an attempt to put the Marines at ease that I am not out on their turf as some act of bravado or to earn a medal. I am just a guy trying to do my job and go home to my wife and kids. After several hours of questioning Marines about what happened, I made my notes, handed out the Gatorade packets, and waited for my ride home. All in all, the trip took about 8 hours. Not once did I get shot at, or even hear a gunshot. I would call my first trip outside the wire pleasantly uneventful.

Soccer practice, moving up, and a nursing home

This evening we had our first soccer practice. They would have made Michael proud. Mikey did great. I could tell all the skills Daddy had already taught him. The coach asked me how old he was as if he was a bit impressed. Kudos to Daddy. [Update: the coach commented Mikey handles the ball really well too!] I was especially impressed at the end when the coach let the siblings participate and Sami did everything she was supposed to do as if she had been coached (and she had not). She trapped the ball when he kicked it to her - with her foot unlike some of the other kids - and then kicked it into the goal effortlessly! Roman went around saying "ball" and loved just picking up big soccer balls and throwing them.

Yesterday, I took the kids to the hourly daycare on base. I thought it was time to move Sami up to Mikey's room. When I told the kids that Sami was going to be joining Mikey in his room they looked at eachother with magnificent grins. Then Mikey held her hand and kept his hand around her shoulders or waist the whole rest of the time guiding her to his room and teaching her all of the things about his room. It was one of the sweetest things I've ever seen!

This morning we visited a nursing home. We went with a couple of friends from church so we were also joined by two of the kids' preschool friends as well. I'm not so sure the kids thought it was a hit, but I think the people in the nursing room enjoyed their presence. They sang songs and behaved like kids. I watched the faces of the residents and I think just having the little young lives in the room made them happy. The kids were mostly timid about offering up hugs, but they would when encouraged appropriately. Accept for Mikey who seemed to be very open to hugging strangers. It made me proud. But then, when Mikey recited Psalm 23 - that made me proud too.