Just a little something I'd like to share with you

Wee Steve has a wee bit of news for you today.

Yup. That's right. Korea. (The South, not the North, because I wear the pants in this relationship and I'm from The South. Kidding. North Korea is all communist or whatever so they generally don't tolerate American military gingers too well.)

Before you go feeling sorry for me and start sending wine and chocolate (I won't scold you for the wine or chocolate, so don't be shy), I should admit to you that I whole-heartedly agreed to this decision. We didn't have to go to Korea. Steve approached his branch manager about openings, his branch manager said that he had some slots to fill in Korea, and we made the decision to go for it. If you know me in real life (because please, we all know this blog is a fantasy-land), you know that Steve and I have been fighting to get out of Fort Campbell since before we got here. I won't go into detail about the (how shall I say this nicely?) misfortunes we've had here, but we are both in solid agreement that we want out.

This is not to say that I was not 100%, completely against this entire Korea idea to begin with. Steve brought it up to me months ago. While we were arguing about something else. Probably something stupid. And I dug my heels in the ground and fought it until he didn't bring it up anymore. Then he tried a new angle. He brought it up during peace times. Revolutionary. I tell you, this kid's going places. (Hint: Asia)
He asked me to consider it again. I refused. A gigantic knot immediately formed in my stomach.

"Korea is filthy!"
"They eat dogs!"
"We will be the tallest people there!"

After a few more emails back and forth, I realized that most, if not all, of my arguments against being stationed there, were out of pure ignorance. I knew nothing about this country, other than the awful things other people had told me. (For the record, people told us great things about Fort Campbell and we know that shazz didn't pan out so that was the first of many flaws in my argument.) I hadn't bothered to do any research before saying, "Ugh! No way." I just knew that Asia (in general) was out of my comfort zone. I didn't want to go there. I only like the orange chicken from that crappy Chinese place in the mall. I am afraid of eating bow wow chow. What if I can't plug my hair dryer straight into the wall. Does anyone speak English. The plane ride there has to be at least 42 hours long. Wah wah wah. Ok let's google.

Turns out, Korea is kind of like a totally civilized, developed country. It is family-friendly. I did research and have mostly read good things about it (and most of the bad things revolve around my severe hatred of heat and humidity, both of which run rampant during the summer months). I talked with my (half-Korean!) neighbor whose sister is stationed at Osan. She loves it. Her kids love it. My neighbor loves it. She confirmed my fears that the Koreans do, in fact, eat dogs. She made me a Korean dish that did not involve dogs. I fell over and died of deliciousness after I licked the bowl clean and then came back to life rather suddenly when she informed me of the calorie content.

I finally talked with Steve on the phone. After hashing out our closing arguments for and against Korea, I finally took a deep breath in and said, "Ok. Let's do it." The knot in my stomach instantly went away. And that folks, is how I know this is the right decision.

Steve seemed completely shocked that he had won an argument (there's a first time for everything), especially one of this magnitude. But he's a good man and I am big enough to admit when I'm wrong. (I'm also big enough to admit that I'll never be able to wear white pants or jeggings but that's a story for another day.)

The selling point? Aren't you all curious as to how he brainwashed me into this horrible decision? Three years together as a family. Three straight, solid years to have my husband with my babies every day. In my bed every night. Next to me every day when I wake up. I can't get that here and I know it. The next deployment is already in the works. There is training being scheduled, missions being set. IT IS TOO SOON FOR THAT SHIT CAN I GET AN AMEN?

So ultimately, the decision boiled down to family time. I want my family together as much as possible (who doesn't?) and this was the one way to make that happen. 

Of course, after making this monumental decision, we had to.... wait. And wait. And wait. And it felt like a fuh-REAKING eternity, but he finally has a solid piece of paperwork saying it's a go (or as solid as the Army can be, which we all know is somewhat shaky). We are moving to Asia, people. And not necessarily in a time frame that I find comfortable but basically right after he gets back from deployment because God forbid anyone breathes for just a second but OH WELL we'll chalk this one up to "keeping life interesting".

All of these things I was holding my breath for... whether or not I should get the piano tuned, hang up those pictures, buy and paint that cute dresser off craigslist, purge the plastic crap in our house, sign Sam up for preschool in the fall, buy a dress for the ball... all of my questions are answered. Most of them sound like "No" or "No way in hell" but at least I've finally got an idea of what to expect.

In the meantime, I need to purge purge purge, drink a lot of wine with my Fort Campbell friends, lose 87lbs so I can wear next to nothing during the sure-to-be-brutal Korean summer, eat all of the American things (sounds counter-intuitive when you consider I also need to lose 87lbs, but just go with it), brush up on my Korean (haaaaaa), get my babies passports, and see the people I need to see before we hop on a plane to a place we know not-a-lot-about.

I am so excited for this adventure. I totally expect to get some jacked-up looks for being so happy about this, but I can't imagine it's any worse than the look I got from Steve that one time I told him I wanted a pair of pajama jeans. We both agreed that we wanted an adventure out of our time in the Army. We had pictured Europe. But ohemgee that is so overdone. Get ready Korea. We're cashing in on this fortune cookie.

I'd say Afghanistan is pretty far away. And that fortune has been hanging on our fridge for over a year now. And yes, I am fully aware that fortune cookies are China's "thing." Maybe with the exchange rate, cashing this sucker in Korea will yield us GREAT news. We'll see.

A post where all of the judgemental internet mothers will surely shank me via comments

Let's start with the good news first. I AM DONE PUMPING.

*heavens open up*

*choirs of angels sing*

*rainbows and unicorns*

Molly is almost ten months old. She has been exclusively "breastfed" since birth. I like to put "breastfed" in quotes (and air quotes because I'm cool like that) because I'm sure women who are actually feeding their children straight from their boobs would disagree that I'm really breastfeeding. I'm kinda sorta cheating. But I'm ok with that. I know that pumping was the best way for me. Although it has clearly negatively affected Molly's overall weight gain and development.

PLEASE NOTE MY EXTREME SARCASM.

But now it is time to bid adieu to my beloved pump, my not-entirely-comfy chair, and many many 20-minute chunks of time out of my day that are usually devoted to pumping. And reading blogs, because seriously, I just set my girls up and let the machine do its thing, there's not a ton of supervision required.

Why now? I'm going on a trip! A girls' trip to a land far far away. A trip that will involve wine. A trip that will not involve a hooter hider and alcohol test strips. A trip that does not involve my children in any way, shape, or form. (Let's all smile with teeth about that last line.)

I love these kids. So so much. But the 24/7-ness of deployment with no help in the form of childcare and I'm not gonna lie- sometimes? I WANT OUT. So since my freezer stash will probably not get Molly through a weekend anyway, and since I am not quite sure, logistically, how I would get breastmilk back in the right temperature conditions through a couple of airports, and since I want to just plain enjoy myself and get my body back, I have decided to stop.

Before you tell me how selfish I am for depriving Molly of those last two months of milk (assuming you're only holding me to the standard of "breastfeeding" until her first birthday), please keep in mind that

1) y'all really seemed to enjoy that drunk post I wrote, and maybe if I don't have to worry about breastmilk being affected, I can write a few more (bribery?),
2) the electronic sign outside of the hospital really only talks about breastmilk and the first six months in reference to being the most beneficial (accurate research- I do it),
3) I still cloth-diaper both kids, thus making me slightly crunchy. Maybe not breastfeed-until-they're-3 crunchy, but maybe like day-old stale popcorn crunchy.

Molly's poor doctor was visibly disturbed that I would even consider such an option, and when I asked about formula (whether she had any recommendations- one brand over another, a certain type, etc), you'd have thought I just asked if I should mix in a half cup of bleach with every bottle. Instead of a formula rec, I was told to find raw goat milk (weekly), and mix in a combination of additives that will most closely simulate breastmilk. OBVIOUSLY not comparable to breastmilk, but "it'll do in a pinch." Maybe this is a viable option for some people out there, I'm not judging their choices, but it's laughable to think I have the time/energy/money to do this. I told Steve and he thought she was suggesting we purchase a goat and milk her every day. Not sure if a Medela pump was designed for that or not and I'm not sure how I feel about having a goat sit in my glider.. Anywhoodle, NOT HAPPENING. I appreciate her concern, but I truly think Molly will be fine drinking formula for two months.

So, my question for you fine people is this: Have any of you ever milked a goat? Just kidding. What was the first thing you did when you were free from breastfeeding responsibilities? Besides drinking wine like it's 1999, what else should be a "must do" on my vacation to-do list?

Just in case

If you or someone you know is in need of instruction on how to clean two tiny people at once in the modern-day contraption known as "the bathtub", then you're in luck. I wrote a guest post for Erika about just that.

One might assume this is a self-explanatory subject, but you know what happens when people assume... (Ok in case you haven't heard that joke, it goes, "You know what happens when you assume.. it makes an ass out of you and me." Ass + u + me. Get it? Did I just over-explain a joke? Probably. Just like I probably over-explained bathtime on Erika's blog.) Go read it! Tell me what you think! Am I doing it all wrong? Any tips I'm leaving out? Tricks I don't know? Do they really need to be bathed weekly? I can't find the instruction manuals to these gingers anywhere...

Disclaimer: I bathe them every night, unless they are still in their original pajamas and we didn't leave the house. Then I just assume they're still clean from the night before. And yes, I know what assuming will get me... (So sue me, some nights I'm lazy.)

That one time I babysat a big kid

I watched a friend's five year old daughter today since she had to work. We were only together for the morning (5ish hours), but I learned some things that Future Jenn should take note of/fix/prepare for.

I have bad cheese. Is provolone not gouda 'nuff for you? (PUN!) She tried gouda and provolone and decided they were both horrible. Note to self: buy the cheap cheese in the wrapper for picky house guests.

I need to invest in, or invent, a clock that will spit out the correct time when a young child walks up and asks it to. I am not sure how I will refrain from cracking open a bottle of wine at 10am every day if I am being interrogated about the accuracy of my time-telling skills every 3.54 minutes. (Yes I am SURE that digital clock says it is 9:47. Which is only 2 minutes after you asked me the time at 9:45. There are 13 minutes until 10:00 and 2 hours and 13 minutes until your mom gets back. NOT THAT EITHER OF US ARE COUNTING OR ANYTHING.)

Learn the difference between Sunny D and orange juice. Clearly only an idiot such as myself cannot recognize the distinction between the two.

Wise men are "helpers."

Joseph was only Mary's friend. 

Mary, mother of Jesus, occasionally goes by the name of Debbie.

Be prepared to explain things that you don't think you should have to explain. Hopefully the breast pump will be out of the equation by the time your kids are old enough to ask about it.

Be more convincing when you lie. "That dvd doesn't work," will not keep a small child from asking you to try it anyway. Re: they don't trust your answers on ANYTHING.

Little people who talk nonstop also tend to eat nonstop. I don't understand the phenomenon of how they can accomplish both of these tasks at once, but by golly, they're amazing little (hungry) creatures.

When someone asks you to wear an Advent wreath on your head and calls you the queen, don't bother wasting time trying to beg out of it. Just, BE THE QUEEN.

When they ask for a lot of paper, don't you dare bring more than one sheet. ("You sure did bring a lot of PAPER in here.")

My pretzels are no good either. "I'll just throw these away." Well ok then.

Don't believe them when they say they'll help you clean up. "I don't want my mom to see this. Let's clean up." *keeps playing while I sling toys in their bins*

Also, they are kinda ridiculously cute with children younger than them.

Overall Future Jenn, you've got your work cut out for you. Good luck, and go ahead and buy that case of wine when you see it on sale. You're probably going to need it.