tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-92149050987865414012024-03-18T22:45:39.071-07:00All Our Black MondaysA blog about a young police family, picking ourselves up and dusting ourselves off, hoping we get another shot at the hell-on-earth we call The Police Academy.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.comBlogger44125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-71027893239782697432011-08-10T09:28:00.000-07:002011-08-10T09:34:05.337-07:00New Short Story: "Dunk-A-Cop"I wanted to share my most recent story with all of you. It's about a cop. I hope maybe your and your spouses/significant others might relate. I was inspired to write this when I attended Relay For Life and saw the local police had set up a booth and a water tank and were inviting people to play "Dunk-A-Cop." I wanted to write about a police officer doing this, and convey him as a sympathetic, compassionate, giving person who also has a sense of humor and is willing to humiliate himself for a good cause. But he is also thinking about the lack of appreciation he gets from the community, and the various sorrows and disappointments he has been up against. I hope he comes through as a real human being, even though you only get a glimpse of him in 1000 words.
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<br />Here's the link:
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<br /><a href="http://52storiesin52weeks.tumblr.com/dunkacop">http://52storiesin52weeks.tumblr.com/dunkacop</a>jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-70752024701909475082011-07-14T22:35:00.000-07:002011-07-14T22:38:15.110-07:00My first short storyJust wanted to share that my first short story is up on my Tumblr blog, <a href="http://52storiesin52weeks.tumblr.com/theholyinnocents">http://52storiesin52weeks.tumblr.com/theholyinnocents</a>. I drew the inspiration from my Catholic parents and sisters and some of the tensions and frustrations my sisters and I felt at times when we reached young adulthood. Drop by and tell me what you think!jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-46896302805061537612011-07-06T07:50:00.001-07:002011-07-06T09:36:20.950-07:00The Secret to a Good Marriage<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XQFZnZZg_yNxvKXVHJ7BbBDkeBocsr19HtnOsSQLFU58e2gmN4cOJPQ4O8yIuh65oek8C1u3l1RAQh7ZznmndkIg017AiFK7JhfbxrD0eaj5ZOl8jX4Lb-KWU9eaevIPjPheaOty6Wo/s1600/Natalie%252520Portman-Star%252520Wars.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 168px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi-XQFZnZZg_yNxvKXVHJ7BbBDkeBocsr19HtnOsSQLFU58e2gmN4cOJPQ4O8yIuh65oek8C1u3l1RAQh7ZznmndkIg017AiFK7JhfbxrD0eaj5ZOl8jX4Lb-KWU9eaevIPjPheaOty6Wo/s200/Natalie%252520Portman-Star%252520Wars.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626252052146474258" /></a><br /><br />I realized something this morning which I will call "The Secret to a Good Marriage." Anybody who's married knows you can't boil a marriage down to one point but this point, I think, might go a long way... If there's something you feel you are not getting from your partner, it's a good bet he/she feels the same way. That's not infallible of course--men and women do have different needs sometimes--but when it comes to getting time, support, encouragement, space, we really both have these needs. If I am not giving those things to him, how will he know to give those things to me?<br /><br />I've been sad lately because I want more encouragement. It seems like JT can barely drum up enough interest to grunt, "Cool," when I tell him I scored a $200 freelance writing job (for a library science publication) and that I've made a promise to myself to try to write one short story a week for the next year. The other day, I set up a Tumblr website for it too--please feel free to visit and show me some love: <a href="http://52storiesin52weeks.tumblr.com">52storiesin52weeks.tumblr.com</a>. I don't have much up on it yet but I'll post my first story middle of next week. Anyway, I was proud of myself for setting writing goals and so far meeting them, and I wanted some encouragement. Instead he kept me up all night with his worries about money, and said he wants me to get a second part-time job.<br /><br />So I spent all day yesterday applying to other part-time jobs that might allow me to continue to work at my present job, as well as applying to full-time jobs. I was sad I didn't get any writing done. I wanted him to give me some time to write when he got home. But he says I am being selfish. From one point of view, he is probably right. I'm asking for support or sympathy when he's overdue for a medal. Still, calling my writing selfish is a low blow. That one comment will give me enough fodder for years of writer's block.<br /><br />We argued about this for fifteen minutes, and while I was trying and failing to convey what it is I want from him, I left the baby in her room. I come back and she got into a container of petroleum jelly. It says to contact poison control. JT was LIVID. He said I was a stupid mother. Yeah, I probably deserved that too. JY was fine, Poison Control says there's no danger. She went to sleep and I spent the night on the couch. <br /><br />It still hurts, but I've been thinking: maybe there's something I should learn from all this... It wasn't until a few minutes ago that I realized, if I don't want him to be so insensitive about my feelings and goals, I should take his feelings and goals into greater consideration.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMSdBu_jux46guu-1SbPEyMzgqU3miBgvU7bVdTqn8ZDp8eoHsdrzg5y_HgWVCrSXITrlv89xbPkBQqS_vdhyphenhyphenMSNp5dbSD8i_VUSjz50O6TuHJZ1r8LogrEoxz5-fs55NoZgV1Oudz74/s1600/starwars2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiCMSdBu_jux46guu-1SbPEyMzgqU3miBgvU7bVdTqn8ZDp8eoHsdrzg5y_HgWVCrSXITrlv89xbPkBQqS_vdhyphenhyphenMSNp5dbSD8i_VUSjz50O6TuHJZ1r8LogrEoxz5-fs55NoZgV1Oudz74/s200/starwars2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5626262913644523858" /></a><br /><br />Let's face it: every day that I congratulate myself for getting up at 6 am and writing for two hours, is a day that JT had to get up at 4:30 to drive 50 miles to his job in the jail. He got an offer for that full time jailer job, but it didn't give him much cause for elation because it won't pay anywhere near what we were hoping for. He's sad about that, and worried about money. He's still working in a hospital one day a week and is just exhausted.<br /><br />I have to do something about our financial situation and I have to help him so that he is not working so hard. I am not going to get the "attagirl" or emotional support I am craving if I do not learn how to give that support to him. You have to give in order to receive. While I was complaining about writing, he brought up a good point, that he hasn't had time to practice his guitar in ages. I need to make this a priority. I need to get out his guitar and carve out some time where he will get to sit and play and I will take care of JY--I need to encourage him to do it because he is a good musician who needs more encouragement. <br /><br />Last night I was feeling sorry for myself that I am a blocked writer, and that my husband contributes to my block by telling me I am selfish. But what have I done to help him unblock? What have I done to make his life easier? I am going to do something about this. I thought this was the year I would work on myself and my writing, since school is finally over and I have my master's. But perhaps instead I should take this year to work on my marriage, make my husband happy because he deserves that.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-20713333865071684232011-06-02T00:09:00.001-07:002011-06-02T00:34:53.693-07:00Going Full-TimeAt the moment JT is pulling another long shift at the police station jail, working fourteen hours, only to come home, catch a little sleep, and go to work graveyard at the hospital for the next few nights. Me, I just finished washing a ton of dishes after returning home with JY from grandma's house (wayyyy far away). Before that I was working 6 hours, and before that I was celebrating my graduation.<br /><br />Today my coworkers threw a party for me because I recently finished my master's program (yay!!). One of them expressed polite regret that I will now be out looking for a better job. I would hate to leave them too, since they've been really good to me, but that's not all I'd hate to leave. I'm applying for a great full-time librarian job that recently came available in a nearby city. I was excited at first, but the more I think about it, the more uneasy I get. If it was offered to me right now, I'm not sure I would take it. I'm not sure I'm ready yet to surrender my dreams of being a stay-at-home mom.<br /><br />Yeah. I know that last sentence sounds like the strangest, most upside-down, backwards sentiment in light of everything that the feminist movement has achieved for us... But it's true. I don't feel like I get to spend nearly enough time with my daughter. I spend a lot of time in the car, carting her around from one grandparent's to the next. (And they both live REALLY far from us which makes it harder.) I cherish my days off with the baby, and use them to get other things done, like taking care of the house, making dinners, buying groceries, doing laundry, etc. I might even spend one of those days with my husband (if I'm lucky). But even with all that time, it never feels like enough. If I work full time, most of the time I spend with my daughter will be spent in a car with her strapped in a car seat and out of reach. It makes me want to cry just thinking about it. Sure, there'd be weekends. There'd be bedtimes too. But I'd never be able to shake the worry that I'm missing out on her childhood, that her grandparents are raising her instead of me.<br /><br />JT wants me to take the job. He is hoping to get hired full time in the jail (he is already in the background stage right now, just finished his polygraph). It would be a really great job, as I said earlier, and I'd be doing what I want to do. What I just got a master's degree to do. But I was never unclear with my husband that I wanted to work part-time and get a good hourly rate, and that I wanted to spend as much time as possible raising our kids. My plan, hatched early in our relationship, was that I would get my master's in order to enable me to make good money part-time and then maybe work full-time once our kids are in school. But right now while we're still in this transitional phase, I have to try for any job I can find.<br /><br />So I don't know. Maybe some of the mommies out there can give me a shot of reality, remind me that it's not so bad working full time and being a mom. Tell me that you haven't missed out on anything, that your kids turned out just fine. Maybe some of my fear comes from the fact that my mother worked so hard--and resented it every day of her life. I don't want to end up that way.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-4491330853528511962011-05-03T11:02:00.000-07:002011-05-03T14:10:59.960-07:00"Be the unwritten blog."This Zen saying was penned by one of my ex-boyfriends, in an effort to teach me a virtue he felt I was lacking in--the virtue of living my life without feeling a constant need to write about it. He was a Generation X-er, and couldn't understand my Generation Y attitude toward total self-expression on the Internet. <br /><br />Since my teen years and early twenties I was an avid blogger, member of discussion forums and user of social networking sites. I know this seems dangerous to a lot of people, but I felt like my online self was a natural extension of my actual self, and had few qualms about sharing any feelings, thoughts, or experiences of a personal nature on the Internet where anyone could find them. My ex constantly cajoled me to keep these things private, but I didn't share his concern for privacy. Blogging my life made me feel more alive.<br /><br />I do think it's a Generation Y thing, but maybe not applied universally by everyone in my generation. My husband, born the day before me, has certainly had an extensive relationship with the Internet (he's had several MySpace pages, a Facebook, his own website, and he met me through an online dating site), but he claims that he doesn't write about anything "personal."<br /><br />Recently he was sharing another blog of mine with some of his coworkers, a blog where I post photos and videos of our daughter and updates on her growth for friends and family. He let his coworkers look at the blog because it's the best collection of our baby photos.<br /><br />Well, a while back, I had mentioned in a post to this blog that JT and I were arguing a lot, and it was seeming to affect the baby's mood. I know I've mentioned that here too, and I don't remember why I wrote it there. I think I just wanted my friends to support me and to know I was going through a rough time. And I also wanted to record everything for future reference, I don't know why. Sometimes it's good to look back on hard times and reflect on them when things are going better. But now, months later, his police station coworkers read that post, and remarked to him, "I don't think your wife should be writing that on her blog."<br /><br />When I heard that, I felt mortified, humiliated, like I was guilty of something terrible. JT seems to feel betrayed by me. And I feel betrayed too. I thought I had freedom to write what I want. Now I seem to be expected to censor myself on everything. Otherwise I'm a bad wife or something. I feel like somebody called me a rat or a snitch or a liar. I feel like I can't be trusted.<br /><br />JT says I haven't been making a very good impression on people lately. A few days ago while I was sick with a fever and cleaning up our messy kitchen, JT called me from work and I yelled at him over the phone about how exhausted I was. His coworkers overheard, and he hung up on me, to "save" me from making a fool out of myself. Why? Why can't I just be understood? Why can't he just tell them, "Excuse my wife, she's sick with a high fever and I left her a house full of cleaning to do"? Why can't he say, "Honey, you're yelling so loud everyone can hear you. Why don't you call back when you've calmed down?" I mean, a "heads up" would have been nice!<br /><br />I just feel horrible. I don't want people to think JT is married to a horrible person. He deserves a great wife and deserves not to have our dirty laundry aired for everyone to see. I don't ever mean to hurt JT's reputation--or feelings. I don't want to hurt his job prospects either. Sometimes I think I should delete everything, and surrender to the deafening silence of real living.<br /><br />But every time I get close to bringing myself to delete my blogs or website, I recoil. I feel frustrated, incensed that somebody who doesn't know me thinks they have the power to decide what I should or shouldn't write about. I just think these people were overreacting. It's none of their business if I want to write honestly about my marriage. I should be allowed some place where I can express myself, where I don't have to be some law enforcement officer's idea of the perfect wife.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-88029263955029147752011-05-02T17:35:00.000-07:002011-05-02T18:11:20.982-07:00BabysittingSince we moved farther away from both my parents and JT's, babysitting has been a bit of a problem for me. I was sick this past week, and couldn't get any help with the baby. My parents were out of town. JT's mom doesn't drive. I was too sick to go out to her. I really needed somebody to help with JY, and told JT I want to get a babysitter. It's hard driving 80 miles roundtrip to drop JY off at her grandma's every time I have to work, and being sick, I was just not up for that. JT absolutely refused. He says JY is not to be with anyone other than our parents.<br /><br />His parents have told me the same thing: that I should please not leave JY with anyone other than them or my parents. To be honest this makes me feel the same way most people feel when their in-laws tell them how to raise their children: irritated and controlled. But they have a reason to be concerned: they trusted somebody once who turned out to be abusive.<br /><br />This past experience, coupled with JT's background in police work, makes him really jaded about babysitters. I tell him that all my friends and relatives use babysitters and day care services and don't have any problems, but he won't listen to me. So I have to keep schlepping out there to his mom's or my dad's, with no other alternative. <br /><br />It's just another example of how we think totally differently sometimes. When I'm sick, especially w/ a fever, I don't like to drive, I don't like to work, I don't like to do ANYTHING except lay in bed until I get better. But my husband makes me feel guilty. "I never miss work unless I'm dying," he said, and he took on some extra shifts. I'm like, "but you're getting sick too! You should stay home." And he looks at me like I'm crazy and like I just said money grows on trees.<br /><br />So all week I was stuck at home, cooking, cleaning the house, chasing around a baby, and not getting much rest. And all I wanted was for somebody to take care of me. It's been hard being sick and needy around somebody who is so hardworking and persistent even when he's getting sick himself. Especially because he's never home, and when he gets home, he just wants to be left alone.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-32187102525989405712011-04-21T08:51:00.000-07:002011-04-21T10:29:14.534-07:00Back From The DeadI have to preface this blog with a big apology: I am so sorry I fell off the face of the earth for seven months. As you can guess these months have been a hellish roller coaster ride for me, but I didn't write about it. Even despite all the caring and generous support I have gotten from the wonderful LEO ladies who read my blog, I just had to walk away from this blog for a while. I don't know why. Mostly it was a lack of time, which I'll get into later. And partly it was from feeling totally lost and just trying to focus on other goals. So why am I back here now? Because, for the first time in seven months, I actually have some good news to report!<br /><br />But first, the past seven months of our lives deserve some explanation:<br /><br />After JT got fired, we quickly realized we would not be able to afford our expensive apartment. We broke our lease and moved in with my parents. They were very generous to us, and gave us their master bedroom which was big enough to fit the baby's furniture in too. They gave us so much help with our little Youngling, and so much patience and compassion. But it starts to wear on everybody after a while. We lived there for almost six months. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJVBXyPWyalk_EPOjcEpHz2KqMku1WzW9M13TT7rncdEgUiS87rK6PLImPDjfK_Ka1SUYHcwW3JwOQCZ2tutVEFPhm7Rg9M2qhXbpCDEIDOW1gtBDihTi_TxYs2IFoB5cBRQfK-dr66E/s1600/starwars2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiKJVBXyPWyalk_EPOjcEpHz2KqMku1WzW9M13TT7rncdEgUiS87rK6PLImPDjfK_Ka1SUYHcwW3JwOQCZ2tutVEFPhm7Rg9M2qhXbpCDEIDOW1gtBDihTi_TxYs2IFoB5cBRQfK-dr66E/s200/starwars2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598089811790960146" /></a><br /><br />JT was not happy. Actually he was spiraling down into a serious depression and wasn't himself at all. He was changing the whole orientation of his life. He was used to his identity as an LEO and police recruit, and used to being the provider for us. Then suddenly he was telling me to quit school and get a full time job. He went back to school himself for a few months, hoping to get closer to getting his bachelor's. For a while he decided to leave law enforcement forever and become a physician's assistant. This path would have taken him five or six years at least but he felt like it was the only way he could make the kind of money he wanted to make and do the kind of job he wanted to do. He drove a long way to a community college twice a week and took English, Psychology, and Algebra. He excelled in his classes for the short time that he was there.<br /><br />JT got a job working graveyard shifts on-call at a hospital as an EMT, and this gave him back some of his sense of self worth as he performed CPR on emergency room patients and helped save their lives. As difficult as it is collecting human waste and doing catheters and such, JT likes that job.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZR6_xhWxjxvJE3b6NfpRPQXKeAqAcjNgSDtIR-xdr5bGh7pExsjxKsXz2GL7qG2ZJYefwjFQdw9grDeRco6EzEk8L5mI3_rLh7hWtv_NFRm0UCmGh0voM2sQ7fVFcGWvdEvk6MVnXIRw/s1600/Natalie%252520Portman-Star%252520Wars.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 168px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgZR6_xhWxjxvJE3b6NfpRPQXKeAqAcjNgSDtIR-xdr5bGh7pExsjxKsXz2GL7qG2ZJYefwjFQdw9grDeRco6EzEk8L5mI3_rLh7hWtv_NFRm0UCmGh0voM2sQ7fVFcGWvdEvk6MVnXIRw/s200/Natalie%252520Portman-Star%252520Wars.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598090016511960802" /></a><br /><br />I did not quit school. I knew it was not a good idea for me to quit school when I was within a year of finishing my master's. Instead I pushed my own graduation date up a semester and took on a heavier course load to finish quicker. I continued to work part-time at the library, but continued to search desperately for full-time library jobs. I applied for some, but was mostly rejected, or just didn't hear back. Without my degree there isn't much I can do. I worked very hard on school. That's another reason I couldn't blog at all--because I have a guilt complex that comes up any time I set aside studying for something else. I can't do it. I have to do my schoolwork, first and foremost. This got very difficult, because even in spite of all the help my parents were giving me, it wasn't enough. I just had that much work to do. On top of my homework, tests, lectures and readings, I had to write fourteen papers on different topics in library science and put it all into a website of my own creation, as part of a kind of "culminating experience" project to make me eligible for graduation. So I started bringing Jedi Youngling over to JT's parents once a week. They'd play with her all day and I would study all day, and I actually started getting more done. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqef7WXdsMgqGtL1cspN4DT6vv-hbb0Mxj7JdSQBT9yqvjWlczEBeSbC15m_X5LjfYS8fWFn4g0fyCKVqF8JK_Ubgm4uujQvMMisWJlgzkfOCtavpWyWbmXFbMS6V9kRPu_TD6zxRG4u0/s1600/yoda-starwars-gal-431.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqef7WXdsMgqGtL1cspN4DT6vv-hbb0Mxj7JdSQBT9yqvjWlczEBeSbC15m_X5LjfYS8fWFn4g0fyCKVqF8JK_Ubgm4uujQvMMisWJlgzkfOCtavpWyWbmXFbMS6V9kRPu_TD6zxRG4u0/s200/yoda-starwars-gal-431.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5598090151490534866" /></a><br /><br />Jedi Youngling was the only one of us who flourished during this difficult period. She had so much family around, and developed really strong bonds to her grandfather on my side and her grandma on JT's. In addition to grandparents she had aunties around often and they and their friends lavished tons of attention on her. She learned to stand, walk, clap her hands, and do so many other things while she was at my parents' house. She turned one year old, and we threw a huge birthday party for her at the park. Lots of my friends and coworkers were there and they gave her beautiful clothes and toys. All things considered, she was doing pretty well.<br /><br />But she wasn't sleeping on her own anymore. JT had started bringing her to our bed to sleep and this formed a new and dangerous habit. Personally, I'm not a believer in cosleeping. I think there's enough research that shows babies sleep better when they can wake up at night and self-soothe and be back to sleep in minutes. When you let your baby sleep with you, she doesn't learn that skill. JY used to know how to do that but pretty soon became reliant on mommy and daddy being with her. I insisted to JT that her doctor said this was not a good idea. But it quickly got to where she wouldn't sleep on her own and we had to bring her to bed just to stop her crying. <br /><br />All of this was very difficult on our marriage. Between the graveyard shifts, the parents down the hall and the baby who rarely slept in her own bed, we were not able to find much time for intimacy or togetherness. Just when we needed most to support each other and grow together, we hardly ever found a chance.<br /><br />After applying for the 10th library job with no interview, and after things became more tense with my parents, I broke down and begged JT's dad to talk to him and do something to help us. He did--he talked to JT and he wore down some of JT's resistance to getting other jobs and getting us out of my parents'. He also talked to the chief of police for his city, and that chief of police was one amazingly smart guy. <br /><br />He went to a convention where all the chiefs from all the cities in SoCal were gathered, and walked right up to a table where he knew one chief was hiring and another chief sitting at that table happened to be one of JT's former employers. He said, "Hey, you're hiring for a temporary jailer right? I know a guy who would fit the job description." And he proceeded to tell them about JT. Suddenly JT's former employer perks up, and says, "Oh, that guy used to work for me! Yeah, he was the best! I'd hire him back if I could, but we don't have the budget right now."<br /><br />So I'm sure you can guess what happened next: after hearing glowing recommendations from these two police chiefs, the hiring chief of police at this other department gave JT a call. Within a few weeks, he was the temporary jailer there, and was getting full-time hours while training. <br /><br />There was an opening there for a permanent full-time jailer, and JT was invited to apply. About a hundred other guys applied, including some guys that were former employees with that department. We weren't sure what would happen there, but we decided to go ahead and move out of my parents'. We took a leap of faith. We found a really nice little house (a duplex) in a city in the Inland Empire that's farther for JT's work but a good commute to mine. And JT loves this area--he wanted to live here because it's very safe. <br /><br />We moved here a few weeks ago. There are still lots of things we're looking for and haven't found yet. But we have our own home again and after getting through the hectic move, we're starting to relax and mellow out again. JT left school, and was happy to do so to work at a police department again. His sense of self returned to him. We both took pride making our new home nice. We celebrated both our birthdays recently and I made him a sign in big letters: "Happy Birthday to a World Champ Dad!" (I wrote it in orange because JT is a Giants fan and they won the world series.) <br /><br />As could be expected, Jedi Youngling wasn't totally happy about the move at first. She would freak out every time we laid her down to change her diaper, probably frightened by the high pointed ceiling in her room. I started reading a great book to help me get her back to sleeping in her crib, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Sleeping-Through-Night-Revised-Toddlers/dp/0060742569/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1303404918&sr=1-1">Sleeping Through The Night</a> by Jodi Mindell, Ph.D. I started her on a new bedtime routine which involved bathing her, changing her into pajamas, reading to her, singing and rocking her, and putting her in her crib and walking away. She naturally resisted at first, and I had to let her cry but checked on her every few minutes. But it got better, and for the past week she has slept in her own crib and has not awakened once during the night. <br /><br />I also started reading some books that helped me to start healing our marriage. I read <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Surrendering-Marriage-Iris-Krasnow/dp/B002UXS160/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1303405081&sr=1-1">Surrendering to Marriage</a> by Iris Krasnow, <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Only-This-Because-Love-Relationships/dp/0679456015/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1303405188&sr=1-1">I Only Say This Because I Love You</a> by Deborah Tannen, and <a href="http://www.amazon.com/Men-Mars-Women-Venus-Understanding/dp/0060574216/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1303405119&sr=1-1">Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus</a> by John Gray, Ph.D. The first book was more to help me recognize that my marriage was good and worth fixing, and the other two were to help me learn better patterns of communicating. After applying these insights about how women unknowingly talk to men in ways that are perceived as controlling, I am transforming the way I talk to JT and am noticing awesome results. I mean, I already had a wonderful and loving husband. We just got so beaten down by life this year, we needed to take some time to realize how many good things we do have. I learned how I could talk to JT in a way that is more appreciative, trusting, and accepting. JT's reading Men Are From Mars too, and we talk about it now and then and compare notes. He's getting a lot out of it too.<br /><br />OK, now that I've explained all of this, my good news! The good news is that JT was #1 of all the applicants for that permanent full-time jailer position, and is going through the background investigation now. He continues to work there part-time and also works at the hospital once a week. I'm so glad that he has found this new police department, because I hear they are really fair and good to their employees. They discussed the possibility of sending JT to the academy at a later date so he might still become a sworn officer in a few years!<br /><br />So I just have one more thing to say: I am so grateful for all the support I received from you guys while JT was in the academy. I hope that after my long absence, I will still enjoy your trust and support. For both me and JT, a new career and a new life is just beginning. Hope you'll join me again.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-17703009720220411732010-09-10T22:12:00.000-07:002010-09-10T22:32:04.943-07:00FiredJT got fired. From the sounds of how it all went down, it seems like there was some kind of mistake. But that doesn't matter really. There is a story but I don't have the heart to retell it here. Besides, all they told us (therefore all we know for sure) is that they fired him, after only three weeks of academy, for his "overall sub-standard performance." <br /><br />"But I passed all my tests, and I was only there three weeks," JT said.<br /><br />That didn't matter.<br /><br />"I'd really like to know why I'm being fired," he said.<br /><br />"We don't have to tell you. You're on probation, which means we have the right to fire you at a moment's notice for any reason we want. That's all you need to know. Now if you'd like to resign rather than be fired, sign here."<br /><br />So he signed the resignation letter. But it doesn't matter. It doesn't give him his dignity back. He'll still be tainted by this if he tries to get a different police officer job. <br /><br />Three weeks of turning our lives upside-down, only to turn around and ask him to resign for not getting everything right away. JT's department didn't even give him the basic decent chance that his own tactical officers say they would have given him. They were shocked, and felt bad, I think. It was a decision the sergeant made, based on whatever exaggerated or unfair information the tactical staff gave him about JT.<br /><br />He talked to the dept. he used to work for, tried to get his old jail job back. Isn't gonna happen. He might get a part time dispatch job in his old department though. We'll see what happens with that. We will definitely have to move in any case. Our apartment rent is several hundred dollars more than my overall take-home pay. <br /><br />The world is falling down around us. It's so unjust. I think the department was just trying to cover up that they're going through a budget crisis. So much for "integrity."<br /><br />If anybody knows of a book that teaches you how to hold it together for a spouse who has lost his job, please let me know. Because I'm falling apart here. We're starting to argue even, saying things that are hurtful because we're both so scared. I feel like I've been strong long enough through all this academy stuff and now I have to be strong through this... I don't know what we're going to do. The only thing I really feel like doing is giving that sergeant a piece of my mind...<br /><br />So yeah, if there is anywhere I should turn for advice on how to help a spouse through a career transition or job loss, let me know. So far I'm not handling it that well. I am freaking out. Everything we've worked so hard for has gone up in smoke and they don't even have the decency to give us a straight answer about it.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-11706368742866068392010-09-08T18:58:00.001-07:002010-09-09T00:15:59.328-07:00The upside-down feeling in the pit of my stomachYesterday, JT took a sick day. Really, a mental health day, because when I woke up he was shaking in a cold sweat. He begged me not to make him go back. What do you say to someone when they say something like that? I tried to keep my composure and told him that I would support him no matter what. If this wasn't for him, better to find that out now. <br /><br />He made some phone calls to the city jail he used to work in, and to the dispatch center, inquiring if he could get his old job back. They said he might be able to get the part-time dispatch position that just opened up there.<br /><br />He asked me if I could find a full-time job, so that our baby would still have benefits. I said I'd try. I made some phone calls and did some web searches. No, there aren't any full-time librarian jobs in our area right now--there were some a few weeks ago but I knew they'd fill quickly. I also researched secretarial jobs.<br /><br />Then for some reason I decided I desperately needed a waffle from IHOP. I was hungry, stressed, overwhelmed. I had a lot of homework to do. I invited JT to go with me but he refused, since he had called in sick and this wouldn't do. So I left him with the baby. I needed to eat, unwind, work on school and forget about anybody but myself for a while. I couldn't find an IHOP or anywhere that serves waffles but I had some pancakes. <br /><br />JT sent an email to the sergeant at his police dept., explaining the real cause of his aversion to the rope. He told the sergeant about his crippling fear of heights, in hopes that he'd get farther by being honest than by continually covering it up.<br /><br />In the evening JT talked to his parents, his friends, his former coworkers, and I talked to one of the other recruits' wives. They told us to stick with it and hang in there. They said that what he was going through wasn't that different from the other recruits and he bought it, he went to bed promising me (and his sergeant) that he would go back to academy in the morning.<br /><br />Today, JT got up and still felt like quitting. I wasn't much help to him this morning. I had been up with JY all night (while I was eating pancakes yesterday she was having a very long nap and couldn't understand that 3 o'clock in the morning doesn't count as "morning"). I asked JT when I would ever get sleep again, and he said "When I quit."<br /><br />"No," I said. "You really think my life is going to be any easier if you quit? Think again. If you want to do something for me, you will go to academy and you will stick this out."<br /><br />I didn't know today would be his last day. <br /><br />As he suspected, JT was given a lot of hell for calling in sick yesterday. But he willingly went to the Lions' Den to get the flags this morning. He says that my words made an impression on him and that he made a commitment to continue and stick it out. But somebody had other plans.<br /><br />The tactical officers asked JT if he'd been in touch with his sergeant lately. He said he had told his sergeant about the fear of heights. Their mouths dropped. They had been contacted by this sergeant and they were starting to put 2 and 2 together.<br /><br />As class was ending this afternoon, JT was asked to fall out and go back to the tactical office, at ease. <br /><br />They said he was a great candidate and would make a good police officer. They said that they were impressed by the way they kept challenging him and he kept coming back. They made him class sergeant that first week and as hard as they tried, they never broke him. They applauded him on his progress at climbing the wall. And although he couldn't climb the rope, they reminded him that this is actually not a requirement for the POST certificate in our state and assured him he wouldn't have this difficulty in another academy.<br /><br />They said that it wasn't personal on their part, and that they liked him. They wanted him to stay and graduate, but his sergeant had given instructions for him to clear out his locker and report to the police station at 1100 tomorrow. They said that they hoped he would still have a career in law enforcement and that they would have a lot of positive things to say about him, if prompted to give a reference. <br /><br />So it was his sergeant--not him and not the academy--that finally pulled the plug.<br /><br />Possibly he will still have a job, and will be sent to a different academy. Or maybe the sergeant has decided to let him go. We don't know. I'm scared right now. I feel like my whole life will be flipped upside-down now. I'm afraid that I'll have to work full time and go to school and take care of the baby all so that JT can walk away from one career and try a new one. Give up my career goals, my future, and go back to office work.<br /><br />But in the short run, just for tonight, I can think of a few reasons for rejoicing:<br /><br />I will not have to wash or iron a uniform tonight.<br />I will not have to wash PT gear.<br />I will not have to make sense of the messy, disorganized equipment JT needs for class, because he will not have class.<br />I will not have to pack a lunch.<br />I will not have to stay up late. <br />I will not have to get up before dawn.<br />I will sleep longer tonight than I've slept in a long time.<br /><br />That is, if I can sleep.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-85695152572064440542010-09-07T01:47:00.000-07:002010-09-07T02:04:25.626-07:00A Talk with the Captain...and a Dressing-Down from the SergeantJT was called into the hallway for a chat with the academy captain one day last week. She told him that he wasn't the first guy, nor would he be the last, to struggle with the wall and the rope. She told him to hang in there and not to quit, even in spite of the tactical staff telling him to.<br /><br />But a few nights later, JT wrote an email to the sergeant he reports to, telling him that he will be working on the rope every weekend in his time off. This sergeant wrote back that this was unacceptable and he should have gotten it by now. He also wrote that he will be getting a report from the academy about JT's progress this week and it had "better be good."<br /><br />So since then, JT's understandably been in another funk. I would be pretty upset by an email like that, too. He's been talking about quitting. Is that normal to want to quit even after several weeks in? Will he get past this hump eventually?jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-73145912116216329612010-09-04T00:31:00.000-07:002010-09-04T00:56:15.721-07:00Another Man DownAnother recruit dropped out today. It was his first day as class sergeant and he couldn't take it. I don't blame him. At one point during the day JT tried to talk to him but he said he didn't want to talk and that he was fine. Then an hour or so later he left, turned in all his stuff and next thing the class knew they were down to ten.<br /><br />JT and his classmates are concerned they might close the academy due to the low enrollment and they'll all have to wait until the next class in November. JT would still be employed at his department but I don't know what the independent guys would do until then. <br /><br />I went out with two of those guys' wives. These women are amazing--they probably get less sleep than I do and still manage to work forty-hour weeks. Their husbands are military veterans and they were supposed to be getting support from the government. But they're not! One of the girls said she'd write an angry letter to the President, if she could find the time or the energy.<br /><br />We commiserated over drinks and then went to see "Dinner for Schmucks." I laughed a lot but it's that uncomfortable kind of humor, where you're laughing at something that's really sad. Still, after that movie and the good company and conversation, I felt like my anxieties and frustrations had melted away and I could go home whole to my husband and Jedi Youngling.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-28817204429710126682010-09-03T01:10:00.000-07:002010-09-03T01:30:08.155-07:00F.A.T.JT recently made the "Fitness Auxiliary Team" at the academy. And no, it's not a coincidence that the acronym for this organization is "FAT." The guys were tested for their body fat percentage, and if it was over 15, they were automatically on the team. <br /><br />JT's was 16%.<br /><br />So now he has to have his lunches checked out by the tactical staff. I think he even has to go to the Lion's Den to have them check it. He also will have to report what he ate on the weekends. So while we are still going to go on a "date night" Saturday, we may have to consider that veggie tofu grill instead of Applebee's.<br /><br />Another guy dropped out. I hadn't really been counting but just for the record they are now down to eleven recruits (from fifteen). This guy dropped out because he failed a couple of tests and decided he couldn't do it. This is unfortunate, because ideally JT could have tutored him and helped him out. It's a shame he had to quit. <br /><br />-----------------------------------------------------------------------<br /><br />I haven't been exercising as I should, but I am rejoicing that I dropped another two pounds and my figure's looking good! That's the nice thing about carting a baby around everywhere like I'm a single mom--she gets heavier, and I get lighter! ;) <br /><br />The other day I was filling my gas tank and a stranger asked me for directions and then tried to hit on me. He said I was pretty. I think I blushed and said "thanks" and climbed hurriedly back in my car. It wasn't a big deal but I looked at it as a reason for rejoicing: If I am still attractive to some men, there's a chance my husband might still really be into me! <br /><br />It's taken me six months, but I am slowly becoming more confident with my mommy bod. :)jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-40674803674547367482010-08-31T09:58:00.001-07:002010-08-31T12:49:15.536-07:00Another Monday<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXyUihWZmTeEItDLORmrZEppzCUUP7U5YdpLqjPuKr3tiNCFcM08gtFgmcsR_xpfPXQ8xpTvPmnVfzXmdtvxI0aC_awWu526K6UTNb1U6nSySLX62pZNGS0ZmdeeWcVq2dWJYB_y7S6Fk/s1600/yoda-starwars-gal-431.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 200px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgXyUihWZmTeEItDLORmrZEppzCUUP7U5YdpLqjPuKr3tiNCFcM08gtFgmcsR_xpfPXQ8xpTvPmnVfzXmdtvxI0aC_awWu526K6UTNb1U6nSySLX62pZNGS0ZmdeeWcVq2dWJYB_y7S6Fk/s200/yoda-starwars-gal-431.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511619592402961186" /></a><br /><br />Yesterday, I tried to make the day about JY. She's almost six months old. First I called the library to sign her up for storytime. Those of you who have small children under 2, check out what your library has to offer them! Many libraries have increased their services for the 0-4 crowd and their parents, offering storytimes, sign language classes, and more. <br /><br />Then I spent the morning before she got up putting photos into her Baby Journal. And in the afternoon, we did arts and crafts! We made some hand prints and foot prints. They hang on the wall next to her crib now. I don't think she understood what we were doing at all (<span style="font-style:italic;">Mommy why are you coating my hand in black sticky stuff?</span>), but I hope it was fun for her. I actually used an old fingerprinting pad from JT's former jail job for the foot before realizing that the kit came with an inkpad that's non-toxic, so I used that for her hand. It didn't all wash off though, so I'm making her wear those newborn mittens until it does.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFxFr-zQSq8nr_p6fG3yRYF8f_S3Ezg8-TQwOBdJkbxj_DtZKnhi2xBIFBhyphenhyphenKCvlaFDs_lVlk5hbKa0TRsBaMM11sDVmQEDHeU7pUsjbWK1wV9R0A8Z4FvzU86XbyiZIekIYdmyVIotHg/s1600/starwars2.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhFxFr-zQSq8nr_p6fG3yRYF8f_S3Ezg8-TQwOBdJkbxj_DtZKnhi2xBIFBhyphenhyphenKCvlaFDs_lVlk5hbKa0TRsBaMM11sDVmQEDHeU7pUsjbWK1wV9R0A8Z4FvzU86XbyiZIekIYdmyVIotHg/s200/starwars2.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511622310094112962" /></a><br /><br />Daddy came home, and the first thing I noticed were the drops of blood on his sweatpants, and the open sores on his wrist where they came from. He was crying. "They've singled me out as the weak one, and they're trying to weed me out. They want me to drop out." I put my arms around him. "They won't let up on me. They made me class sergeant again--who knows for how long this time."<br /><br />This development actually happened on Friday. JT was telling me then, how he'll be class sergeant for the day and whenever he comes to something that he knows and can do well, like the twelve daily exercises, they pick somebody else to be class sergeant for that task. I told him this makes sense: academy isn't about showing off what you do well; it's about being beaten down for the things you don't until you do.<br /><br />For JT, his memorization and academics are what keeps him going. He scored 95% on a test Friday that half the class failed. He took a spelling test yesterday and got a perfect score.<br /><br />What did the tactical staff have to say about that? "We're gonna call up your police department. Tell them that you can spell but you can't jump a wall and you can't climb a rope. We're gonna tell them that you're not ready for this. You're a disgrace to your department." Then they give him more physical tasks like these as punishment for not having been able to do them.<br /><br />So you can imagine the state in which my husband came home yesterday, and the work I had to do to put his self-esteem back together. <br /><br />I held him for a while. He caught me staring at the blood spots on his pants, and asked me what I was thinking. I told him "a lot of things." Sad that he was bleeding and in pain. Wondering how I was going to get the stains out.<br /><br />He was distraught that he might fail the physical part of academy, and have to look for a new job. He emailed the sergeant of his police department explaining the situation and all he got back in response was a curt, "Get it done." But he's trying as hard as he can--if these people could see the bruises sleeving his arms and the blisters crowding his palms they would see that, wouldn't they?<br /><br />I brought him dinner in bed, told him that we'd be okay. "I shouldn't have said those things about your masters degree," he said, "because for all I know that may be the very thing that saves this family." I told him he didn't need to worry about providing for the family--that's just extra stress. We discussed what would happen though, if he didn't make it. I tried to do a little "best case, worst case". Best case, he would keep practicing and eventually climb that rope. Worst case, he would fail out, but then you have a range of other possible consequences to consider. Maybe he would just get sent to academy all over again. Maybe they'd send him to a different one. Or maybe he would have to look for a new job, a new path in life, and that's okay. We have a little money set aside, we'll be fine.<br /><br />He asked me to go to a sports store and get some things he needed--under armour, wrist bands, and athletic tape. I also needed to buy some more Dryel for his uniform, which I've had to clean almost every night. I took the baby with me, carried her around the sporting goods store and and then made another stop at Albertsons for the Dryel and other cleaning products. The baby had been so good throughout this time, but as soon as we came home she started crying. <br /><br />On our way in I accidentally brushed through a barn spider's web. This used to freak me out but last night I was apologetic for wrecking her hard work. I can relate to spiders now. I have restful mornings but my real work begins at sundown.<br /><br />As I walked into the door with the baby in her car seat, the first thing JT said to me was, "By the way, I had to write a report because you ironed my uniform wrong. The collar isn't supposed to be stiff, it's supposed to lie flat. I'm just letting you know."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVBl4TkYxw3DYrIons6AjgrnLexLCi2Fv1PZ6jkjObKfYEJ7W13HEqVohflot4zVRo_iNgtX3u8tY2vaj78_sdjoLgO9_QkvgdHq5DctX3g5S5l8qWy6Z4aUN89kaWqOdp0wznAmXkKk/s1600/Natalie%2520Portman-Star%2520Wars.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 168px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBVBl4TkYxw3DYrIons6AjgrnLexLCi2Fv1PZ6jkjObKfYEJ7W13HEqVohflot4zVRo_iNgtX3u8tY2vaj78_sdjoLgO9_QkvgdHq5DctX3g5S5l8qWy6Z4aUN89kaWqOdp0wznAmXkKk/s200/Natalie%2520Portman-Star%2520Wars.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5511629187291135442" /></a><br /><br />And my night went downhill from there.<br /><br />You know, there are recruits who do all of this on their own. There's a single guy who lives with his parents and his mom absolutely refuses to do any of this for him. She says it was his choice and not hers, so he can iron his own uniform. I don't want to be that unsupportive, but sometimes I wish I could say the same thing.<br /><br />I strapped the baby to me in one of those Baby Bjorn type infant carriers (although mine is actually a cheaper Chicco knock-off) and JY hated it. She fussed and cried while I tried to remove everything from JT's uniform, collect up his sand-caked PT gear, and put the one in the dryer and the other in the washer. She was hungry, but I selfishly wanted to get to bed before 1 a.m. and therefore needed to get the clothes started washing before I fed her. "I'm sorry, little bird," I told her. "In a minute your daddy will feed you and you'll have some nice Daddy time."<br /><br />JT had told me, before I'd left for the store, that he would feed the baby when he was done writing reports. By the time I got the clothes loaded he was done, and already settling down into bed. But he wasn't getting off that easy. I brought his daughter to him and some rice cereal. I stayed with them a minute. When it quickly became apparent that his idea of feeding her was shoveling huge spoonfuls of food down her throat before she even had a chance to swallow, I lost it.<br /><br />I took the spoon away from him and took over. "The one thing you said you'd do for me tonight was feed our daughter. But I'm not going to sit here and watch you choke her to death! You have to make sure she's swallowing! PAY F---ING ATTENTION!"<br /><br />I'm sorry, but you put my baby in danger and you're gonna wake the bear. <br /><br />A while later, the baby is fed but still not happy, and I'm making JT's lunch, and JT is in bed, crying out in pain. I'm starting to feel like Nurse Ratchet, like my house has turned into an insane asylum. I asked JT what was wrong and he said he thought he might have a bruised rib. I was freaked out. I said we should take him to the hospital but he said no. I asked how he's supposed to climb the wall and do ten pull-ups if he has a terrible stabbing pain in his side. He said he didn't know, but he didn't want to look like a baby by reporting his injury and sitting out from PT. <br /><br />I was like, "Well, which is it then? Are you injured or are you a baby? Because if you're not going to treat this like a real injury then I'm not going to either. I've already got one crying baby to deal with and if you aren't <span style="font-style:italic;">really</span> injured then maybe you could try to keep it down!"<br /><br />"Ma'am, Yes Ma'am!"<br /><br />I felt bad for how I was acting. It's just that I go a little crazy with all the crying and fussing that goes on around here. And to be honest, I don't think JT would have handled it any better if it was the other way around. He would have told me to quit. The times when I've been emotional or sad, he always yelled at me because he didn't know how to handle the stress of it. I think, on the whole, I've done okay...<br /><br />I nursed the baby and put her to bed, and JT took some vicodin and fell asleep. I stayed up at least an hour longer, ironing his uniform and putting all the metal stuff back on it, getting his PT gear together, and cleaning up the kitchen which was a mess. <br /><br />Then five hours later (at 5 a.m. this morning), I got up with him and walked him out to the car. I apologized for the way I talked to him and asked how he was doing. He said he was feeling okay. I hope his day goes better today. He knows that if he has chest pains again he needs to say something.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-78034252039964464162010-08-27T12:51:00.000-07:002010-08-27T15:44:19.643-07:00RelationshipsWhen JT started the academy, one of the major questions on my mind was: "Is our relationship going to change?" I think, even after just a few weeks (and maybe only one of those weeks really counts) we've established that, yes, it has changed some things. We have to set aside one evening a week to be together--with really zero time together apart from that. But despite all that, the love is there. It's not going anywhere.<br /><br />Although my relationship with my husband has been put on the back-burner to a certain degree, it's worth taking a few minutes to acknowledge the other relationships in my life that have grown and flourished, helping me cope through this time.<br /><br /><ul><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">My parents:</span> When I'm feeling like a single mom and I need someone to help me cook or just give the baby some love for a while so that I can take care of everything else, my parents are there for me. They don't judge me. They offer the same unconditional love to my daughter that they gave to me.</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">My in-laws:</span> I used to be paranoid that <span style="font-weight: bold;">my mother-in-law</span> judged me--because it just so happens she's like Mrs. Homemaker of the Universe. Her house is always immaculate. Also, it was hard to have much of a relationship because she mostly speaks Spanish, a language I'm still learning. But anyway, she's actually a pretty good person and I think I'm growing on her. Last week she hugged me, crying, thanking me for taking care of her son. I know she loves JY too, and always wants to babysit. As for <span style="font-weight: bold;">my father-in-law</span>--we have an interesting bond. Although JT and I don't share a lot of common political beliefs, his dad and I do. We actually talked on the phone for forty-five minutes today, just politics. He's pretty cool. All told, my in-laws are good people and I'm lucky to have them.</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Police wives</span>: The ladies I've talked to through <span style="font-weight: bold;">blogger</span> and <span style="font-weight: bold;">policewives</span> and other sites are such a help and support system to me. Although I haven't met you I know I can share my deepest feelings and concerns with you, and that I'm never really alone. You rock. Also, I've gotten to know a couple of the <span style="font-weight: bold;">other recruits' wives </span>from JT's academy class. They truly humble me with their coolness. Their husbands are "independents" so they are working full-time to support them and pay the bills. They have moved here from far away, leaving family and friends so that their husbands could go to this particular academy. Their sacrifices are really amazing.</li><li><span style="font-weight: bold;">Friends</span>: I haven't had a lot of time for girl friends, but when I have gotten together with them, it's been therapeutic and worthwhile. And really, I did get to go to both Disneyland and the beach in the past month. That's pretty good!<br /></li><li>Last, but probably most important, <span style="font-weight: bold;">My Baby, JY</span>: My little Jedi Youngling and I have a wonderful bond. She laughs with me, cries with me, squeals with me, plays peek-a-boo with me. Her smile always brings me joy. I love her with all my heart, and I do believe the feeling is mutual. Together we are learning to be a team and support each other through all our adventures. She's an amazingly good and happy baby, and when she cries it's only because she needs her mommy.<br /></li></ul>I've been reluctant to share any photos of us for JT's sake. He's a very private person. But I don't think it could really hurt to share a pic of our almost-six-month-old. So here she is, taken a few weeks ago, before academy started:<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_WaRQf1yAjT__odB3LxWdcMcUD9Gf9l1jzykpVprTMti7oasm7-j2ASvmC4GDmz96ppzpEHcN0GsU9RdL8p_Jib_vDDBoubgPmAZrnXsOz46XeyvpZ3gXu-49mBFvtTZiWo0xQGTQOMk/s1600/DSC_0584.JPG"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 133px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg_WaRQf1yAjT__odB3LxWdcMcUD9Gf9l1jzykpVprTMti7oasm7-j2ASvmC4GDmz96ppzpEHcN0GsU9RdL8p_Jib_vDDBoubgPmAZrnXsOz46XeyvpZ3gXu-49mBFvtTZiWo0xQGTQOMk/s200/DSC_0584.JPG" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5510221037669989986" border="0" /></a>jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-91943230070292742482010-08-27T10:45:00.000-07:002010-08-27T12:49:46.723-07:00ApologizingSo I have to apologize for my blog being such a downer lately. My new situation has brought all kinds of old issues back to my mind and I haven't been dealing with them as well as I'd hope. I've been immature, frustrated, bitter and self-pitying. The truth is I go through these emotions from time to time, around once every month (probably menstrual although I haven't had a period since JY was born) and despite my occasional efforts to improve myself this is not likely to change much. At least it only lasts a few days, and then I'm back to normal.<br /><br />To update: I did have a chance to bring up my feelings about JT's past lack of support for my librarian education. He isn't class sergeant anymore (thank God!) and last night for the first time in a long time we got to go to bed at midnight, reports all done and lunch all packed.<br /><br />So he said, "I want to hear about your day. How you are doing."<br /><br />I thought about it a minute, and finally decided to go with honesty. "I've been depressed, actually."<br /><br />"About what?"<br /><br />I paused. <span style="font-style: italic;">Should I do this?</span><br /><br />"I've been depressed about how little support I get for my own career and my own hard work. I felt like my scholarship was a big deal, and you barely noticed."<br /><br />"I told you congratulations."<br /><br />"But it's more than that. When I wanted to do that internship last year, and you said no... That hurt. A lot. I think I'm still trying to get over it."<br /><br />"Was that something you really wanted to do?"<br /><br />"Yeah. And needed to do."<br /><br />Silence.<br /><br />"And when you told me I didn't have a 'real career,' that hurt. And when you told me that I shouldn't do school anymore because I wasn't pulling my weight around the house, that hurt."<br /><br />"ALL RIGHT, STOP!"<br /><br />This is how he normally reacts whenever I give him a laundry list of grievances. Maybe I should revise my strategy for approaching this stuff in light of that fact. I tend to be the bottle-everything-up,-shake,-then-explode type. But then, exploding isn't really the right image. Maybe just spilling over and fizzing out.<br /><br />I lay in bed, silent, for a while. Then I put my arm around him and snuggled to his shoulder. I wanted to say, <span style="font-style: italic;">I just want you to know that, even though I feel this way, I am not going to stop being here for you. I am going to show you the same support regardless of whether you choose to return it.</span><br /><br />"I'm sorry," he whispered.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-37164360779461872402010-08-26T09:58:00.001-07:002010-08-26T10:13:00.945-07:00Blood BoilingThanks to all of you for the support you gave me on my last post. I'm still feeling kind of down about this. I felt the need to blog about it again.<br /><br />I woke up this morning remembering how, last spring, I was all set to do a summer internship at a children's library. What I want is to be a children's librarian, which is not what I am currently. I work in adult services right now because when I got this job there were few opportunities in my area for children's librarian assistants. So anyway, last spring I applied for this internship, interviewed, corresponded with them, enrolled for class credit, all that. And all the while JT was saying "I don't think you should do this," it would take too much time away from him and from my other "responsibilities." And I had weathered an extremely difficult spring quarter with insane projects in one of my classes. Because he saw how difficult that was, he was totally against me taking class in the summer. I tried to convince him that it would be all right, that this was something I really wanted to do, but when my financial aid dried up, he put his foot down and said NO. And I had to write letters to my mentors and instructors telling them why I suddenly had to pull out.<br /><br />I hated that so much. I hated him for the way he had total control of the purse strings in our house, even as most of the money we had in savings was money given to us by my parents and which I thought I should use for the purpose of continuing my education. I was angry about it for a long time, and at one point I was even thinking I didn't want to be married anymore.<br /><br />Then I got pregnant. I set it all aside and didn't think about it again for a long time. Remembering it now, comparing it to the enormous sacrifices I've made for him and how I've been totally on board with his academy all the way, well, I'm sad to say it makes my blood boil.<br /><br />I need to get over this. You can't be a loving and supportive partner when you're holding something like this bottled up inside. You have to forgive. I can do this. I chose my marriage and my family over my anger and hate last summer, and I know I can do it again. But I just really need him to know how painful that was and how lucky he is that I didn't leave him for doing that to me. And how lucky he is that I'm smart and that I do have a "real career" (ugh, don't get me started explaining the memory that brought that wonderful little sound byte to my mind) and that I work hard and don't just expect to get through life on whatever he earns. God he's really lucky. I wonder if he's ever taken a moment to think of it that way.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-91753863831106462772010-08-26T01:10:00.001-07:002010-08-26T02:22:33.344-07:00Moments of WeaknessThis morning as JT was trying to wake himself up, he had this nervous leg twitch and kept hitting me with his knee. I don't think he knew he was doing it so hard... He was also talking to himself, loudly. In the shower, he was saying "Sir, I didn't mean that sir." I asked him if he thought he was talking to a tac officer. He said, "Why, because I said 'Sir, I don't know, sir'?" And that wasn't what he said. Then he got out and got ready, all the while stumbling around the house like a drunk person.<br /><br />I asked him if he'd like me to take him there. He objected to my suggestion that he might not be awake/alert/sane enough to drive. I was crying. All I could think was, I'm not going to lose him to the academy, not like this. I don't know if I was even thinking straight myself. We'd both had only three hours of sleep again, since today was an inspection day and there was a lot to be done. PT clothes to wash, shoes to shine, uniform to dry-clean and iron...<br /><br />I was really beside myself. I begged him not to go and he yelled at me for making him late. When he insisted he'd call me when he got there, I finally let it go. He did call, and apologized for snapping at me.<br /><br />My cracks are beginning to show. I am not the super wife I try to be. Late tonight, around midnight, I asked him: "So did I tell you that I got the scholarship? One of the biggest scholarships a library student can get?"<br /><br />"Uh-huh." (writing reports)<br /><br />"Every year, students from all over the state apply. And I've tried for it several times in the past. This year, it went to me. Isn't that cool?"<br /><br />"That's great, honey." (more writing)<br /><br />I don't know why, but I just feel really left out, upstaged. The fact is he's never been very supportive of--or remotely interested in--my masters degree or anything else to do with librarianship. When I was working full time, taking classes and volunteering/subbing at libraries, he used to get mad at me for leaving a textbook or two lying out in the living room or leaving the dishes unwashed. He'd say things like "You're not living up to your responsibilities around here," and he'd scoff at higher education in general, which to him isn't worth much. (God, we are so different.)<br /><br />Contrast that with how things are right now: The police academy has invaded every room of our house. JT does nothing--and I mean NOTHING--but academy. He doesn't even eat or sleep, let alone help me out with the messes he scatters over every square foot of our floor. And even with him doing nothing but academy I still have to do like 90% of the prep work for that, because it takes him until 1 a.m. to finish writing his reports. But every day when he's down, I tell him he's my hero, that I'm proud of him, that I think what he's doing is brave and noble and hard and I'm here for him...<br /><br />Is it a lot to ask that I get a little pat on the back from him for my accomplishments, and for catching the notice of librarians not only in my community but in my state? One of the librarians I work with said this scholarship is a pretty big deal. I wish my family thought so. They all keep telling me how proud they are of me for the wonderful job I'm doing taking care of my husband and cooking and cleaning and raising our baby. That's great. Perhaps that's an accomplishment they can relate to. But they can't give me even a shred of support for a goal that is different from theirs--a goal I've chosen, and want, and work hard for, and take pride in.<br /><br />That's not where the anger/resentment issues end, though. There are times when I want to scream, I'm so tired from all the work. But he's so sick and tired and overworked himself that I keep quiet. Then he does these stupid things that keep him writing reports all night long. Yesterday, he told me about some mistake he made and I actually resented him for making that mistake and giving himself another two reports to write when he really should have known better...<br /><br />I was reading the book <span style="font-style: italic;">Night</span><span><span> by Elie Wiesel about his experience in the concentration camps during the Holocaust. He writes about how he watched silently as a Nazi officer beat his father, and hated his father for calling his name so loudly and for provoking the Nazis' ire. That's the kind of thing I am guilty of here when I resent the way JT always seems to come home with the maximum number of reports. I resent the system, the stupid and merciless nature of forcing a sick man to go without lunch and without sleep, to do push-ups and write reports all day long. But at whom do I target that anger? At my husband. That's not really fair.<br /><br />I guess I have some serious work to do, on myself. Maybe when I finally have a good night's sleep...<br /></span></span>jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-62857852335687751812010-08-24T07:33:00.000-07:002010-08-24T08:58:31.687-07:00Our Black Mondays<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfGo6QADjPypaRMLpN1pVITOCdbb6U9T1v0zc_eiwHQc0rvBtWZKBlnUubFTTVz_P4gYRJz6ciJ4ur40gFQu54oA6-vC0g0VYZl-eX0eipnbckfMOCeWLy8NkmZWK65zTmPofCkGqI3E/s1600/Natalie%2520Portman-Star%2520Wars.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 168px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsfGo6QADjPypaRMLpN1pVITOCdbb6U9T1v0zc_eiwHQc0rvBtWZKBlnUubFTTVz_P4gYRJz6ciJ4ur40gFQu54oA6-vC0g0VYZl-eX0eipnbckfMOCeWLy8NkmZWK65zTmPofCkGqI3E/s200/Natalie%2520Portman-Star%2520Wars.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508878252459604978" border="0" /></a><br />My day started out <span style="font-style: italic;">beautifully</span>. I was actually feeling bad about that, because I knew my husband was in for the worst day of his life, but I thought my day couldn't get any better. First I got an email inviting me and JY to go to the beach with a friend I hadn't seen in a while. Then I got a phone call, informing me that I'd been awarded a very competitive library science scholarship! I was jumping up and down and acting like one of those ladies on Oprah when they win free stuff. Except that I won something much more expensive and valuable than a new brand of perfume or an iPad--I won a very large chunk of change towards getting my degree. And, I earned it.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioo30pJYXaSi3IvwwXC8iW0lMSIORW-KPUBAWyOO4gIRYH9W3snlzQoqUNWzBxVBMJY_PuRHFXT6bUGKoBy5hfgV4GkOfBzhnApTwIsvxJ8PIK0AuxXgNjjHf4b9cnxjIcXFEZMXRTIZM/s1600/yoda-starwars-gal-431.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px; height: 139px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEioo30pJYXaSi3IvwwXC8iW0lMSIORW-KPUBAWyOO4gIRYH9W3snlzQoqUNWzBxVBMJY_PuRHFXT6bUGKoBy5hfgV4GkOfBzhnApTwIsvxJ8PIK0AuxXgNjjHf4b9cnxjIcXFEZMXRTIZM/s200/yoda-starwars-gal-431.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508963271701877538" border="0" /></a><br />Jedi Youngling got to see the ocean for the first time ever. She squealed with fright when I held her low enough for the cold water to lap her feet. But at one point she started crying inconsolably until she fell asleep. And the pattern didn't stop once we were home. Horrible crying, slipping into exhaustion, starting up again later. Making strange sounds like she was gasping for air, followed by a pushing or straining.<br /><br />I never got to make Jedi-in-Training the nice dinner I promised him. He came home just as I was really starting to freak out. I was so worried about JY and the weird hiccupy/gasping noises she was making. I was scared that it might be whooping cough--there's been an epidemic lately. He said I should take her to the hospital. I felt torn; I could see that he'd been through a lot today and he still needed dinner and some help and support. But JY was obviously in pain, and the baby's pain has to come first. I took her to the hospital, begging JT to forgive me for leaving him high and dry.<br /><br />JY was screaming so hard when we got there, and I was so stressed out, that I began to cry myself. Then the problem made itself known: she was pushing out very hard, thick stools. She calmed down a little. I was told to get some infant suppositories, give her more fluids, and we were sent home.<br /><br />All this time, I'd had nothing to eat but a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Getting her ready for the beach was so involved that I couldn't eat breakfast, and pb&j was all I brought with me for lunch. My arms were sore; I was carrying her a lot all day at the beach and at the hospital I carried her in the car seat across a huge parking lot. So I was tired and hungry, and stopped by for some burgers for JT and me. I put JY to bed, had a burger, and got to hear about JT's day.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATzrrGIDrLy_VkOiEBMDPtVJt2GHBvq5L7G2qbz5ILtrqfan2JR7PojaQtbRdZh5zEAW_rINZrZEL312PrPmnDZ57cpZeImq4ykHJUw5CczKr7oBpLOowAudNSTAj9W_ACMde-S_HQLE/s1600/starwars2.jpg"><img style="display: block; margin: 0px auto 10px; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 200px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhATzrrGIDrLy_VkOiEBMDPtVJt2GHBvq5L7G2qbz5ILtrqfan2JR7PojaQtbRdZh5zEAW_rINZrZEL312PrPmnDZ57cpZeImq4ykHJUw5CczKr7oBpLOowAudNSTAj9W_ACMde-S_HQLE/s200/starwars2.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5508960636137631010" border="0" /></a>When I got home, JT was finishing up the first of seven remedial instruction reports he had to write. He got issued the maximum number of reports for a day: fourteen. Seven of which he has to hand in today, and the other seven tomorrow. On top of that, he's getting a cold. He had snot dripping from his nose while he struggled to scrawl out the letters with the crazy stencil they gave him to make all his letters the same size.<br /><br />He'd been working on one report for over an hour. I could see at least six papers scattered over the table, all of which looked fine except when he pointed out to me a failure to double-space here, or leave enough room there. I read one of the reports.<br /><br /><blockquote>"This morning, at 0745, I assaulted Recruit ____ while in formation. I did this because I failed to watch where I was going and lacked common sense. My lack of common sense could cause me to be perceived as unprofessional in the eyes of the public. This could cause me to lose my credibility. In the future, I will not assault Recruit ____. I will use common sense and will watch where I am going."<span style="font-style: italic;"></span></blockquote><br /><br />JT won a kind of award this morning also--he was appointed Recruit Class Sergeant. He fully expected this, given his poor performance on Friday during physical training. So for the next week (maybe two) he is on the spot all the time, having to lead the class and give commands and be the ambassador to the tactical office. What an honor.<br /><br />A few weeks ago, when the academy was still just a fuzzy dream for him, he told me he would readily volunteer to be Class Sergeant.<br /><br />Be careful what you wish for.<br /><br />When approaching the tactical office, there are all kinds of protocol a class sergeant has to remember. You're supposed to take a certain number of steps and then a left-face, then you knock hard on the wooden block by the door (<span style="font-style: italic;">you think a parolee is going to open for you with that knock?</span>)<span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;"><span style="font-style: italic;">. </span></span></span><br /><br />You request entry, and when told "Enter" you have to step smartly--but watch out, because if a tactical officer happens to be leaving at the same time as you are coming in, you have to stop and say "Sir, by your leave, sir!"<br /><br />Once inside, there is further protocol. You take two thirty-inch steps (<span style="font-style: italic;">you call that thirty inches?</span>) and make a right-face toward the wall (<span style="font-style: italic;">you just assaulted tactical officer ____'s office with your gun!</span>).<br /><br />Then you hand the tactical officer whatever papers you were coming to submit--say, the class attendance sheet. He takes it, crumples it, and throws it away. "Not good enough! Do it again."<br /><br />But every time you make a mistake, you have to drop and give them push ups, squat thrusts, or some other exercise. So a short trip to the tactical office to deliver the attendance sheet becomes a half-hour absence from class--where your fellow recruits are learning things that will be on the test.<br /><br />JT was especially concerned about all the time he spends away from the classroom. But I really believe that, apart from merely punishing him for his struggles on Friday, they chose him to be the class's first Class Sergeant because they know he will catch up academically on the things he misses. This I will back up with the following incident:<br /><br />After making a mistake of protocol, JT was asked to give his gun speech. He recited it flawlessly. Then the first paragraph of the Law Enforcement Code of Ethics. He said it beautifully. Then the ten-codes, backwards. He aced them.<br /><br />The tactical officer drilling him said: "Clearly you are not an idiot. But you don't know your way around the academy."<br /><br />Why do I point to this as evidence of the tactical staff's (dare I say it?) esteem of JT's potential? Because he said that JT is <span style="font-style: italic;">not</span> an idiot!<br /><br />There's hope yet...jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-76955720124988705752010-08-23T06:09:00.000-07:002010-08-23T07:51:20.925-07:00QuittingAll JT could talk about yesterday was how much he doesn't want to do it anymore. How much he is dreading today. He's been crying too. It's hard to see that; he rarely cries. I told him this will pass, that there's nothing he can't do. He tried to train for the physical demands, but it turned out to be much harder than he thought. Most of the other guys were prepared from their experience in the military. But JT was blown away by it.<br /><br />I don't know what to say sometimes. "Well, honey, you knew this would be hard and you signed up anyway. There's no going back." What real choice does he have? Our family depends on this now. My part time job is not going to pay the rent. Yet, every time I looked into his eyes yesterday I met a wish, a prayer, that somebody would just tell him "It's OK--you don't have to do this if you don't want to."<br /><br />When he left this morning he looked like a dying animal. Like he was hoping somebody would just shoot him for mercy.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-83689999370887360072010-08-21T23:59:00.000-07:002010-08-22T00:05:14.370-07:00Second-Growth HickoryYesterday, while JT was running across the balance beam, he lost his footing. He flipped into the air and landed on his back and head. The tac officer standing over him did not offer his help, just asked him in a sarcastic tone:<br /><br />"Are you okay? Do you need a fucking ambulance?"<br /><br />"Sir, no sir."<br /><br />"Then get up. If you don't need an ambulance then get up and do it again."<br /><br />"Sir, yes sir."<br /><br /><br />I told him that he needs to remember the speech for his baton--"It is made of second-growth hickory. Second-growth hickory is that which has been cut and allowed to grow back, doubling its strength."<br /><br />That's what they are trying to do to JT and to the other recruits. They are trying to break them, cut them down, so that their strength will be doubled.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-26653257187396463852010-08-21T11:24:00.000-07:002010-08-21T11:30:51.874-07:00Cheering UpSo this morning JT got the following email from his sergeant, sent to all the officers in his department:<br /><br />"If any of you are in the mood for some entertainment on Monday, go down to the ____ Academy and watch Cadet Officer _____ go through his Black Monday. Should be quite amusing."<br /><br />JT was in better spirits this morning, after some vicodin and a good night's sleep. I went out and bought some toilet paper and donuts. JT has always liked donuts. Then I tidied up the house because we're having a little get-together with some of the classmates and their wives. I hope that picks him up a bit. <br /><br />JT: "Later tonight, I need you to test me on my spelling."<br />JW: ^-^ "Oh, why don't we do that with the other guys when they get here? We could have a Spelling Bee! Isn't that fun!"<br />JT: o_o "Only you would find that fun."jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-56994712931087516762010-08-20T22:27:00.000-07:002010-08-20T23:32:59.606-07:00Beaten and BruisedToday when I got home from work my husband was on the verge of a breakdown. His mother was here taking care of JY. He beckoned me to our room and asked me to shut the door, and he started to cry.<br /><br />He said he couldn't do it anymore. They did three hours of PT today, and wearing ALL of their PT gear layered on top of each other--their shirts and shorts underneath a thick sweatshirt and sweat pants. It was ninety degrees outside! He almost fell out of a run. He failed both attempts at the obstacle course. He thinks himself a disgrace to his department.<br /><br />He was in pain all over his body. He showed me countless bruises going all up his arms and clustered over his knees. He had six or seven massive popping blisters on his palms. He said he also thinks he pulled a muscle in his left leg. He said he felt hopeless, that he would never learn to climb the thirty-foot rope or scale the six-foot wall. They were yelling at him: "Oh, <span style="font-style: italic;">come on</span>! Your partner is down, he's bleeding to death on the other side of that wall and <span style="font-style: italic;">where are you</span>?"<br /><br />I rubbed some Neosporin into his blisters and scrapes. Then I went out and bought him some Epsom salts for a bath and some fast food burgers. He was craving comfort food. He's gotten so thin; he now weighs 158 lbs--that's a twenty-pound drop from what he weighed a month or so ago.<br /><br />I stroked his fuzzy hair and told him it would be all right, that he'll get it with practice. He thinks he doesn't have enough upper-body strength. That he's just not cut out for this. That may be, but it's my understanding that most of those challenges are more in the technique than the brute strength. I know he can do it.<br /><br />If you're reading this, honey, I know you can do it. You're my hero...jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-83674642061556200872010-08-20T07:25:00.000-07:002010-08-20T09:16:45.111-07:00Caffeine is my Spinach<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SXsoSzhr5ouw0f_-V_CviE_DJnBiFPaAHHcT8-aK12qq28K8m-lC25qA2nT-9b3GlGApjc6LTPSUQIVw3j0xdkZi4hX5OYa5OpTOrqSA7n8kRaPQWQf8-TmHU7_EJor7ChP-tgOd_EE/s1600/194690305_2798753e9e_m.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 150px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 200px; CURSOR: pointer" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5506758289349644882" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh8SXsoSzhr5ouw0f_-V_CviE_DJnBiFPaAHHcT8-aK12qq28K8m-lC25qA2nT-9b3GlGApjc6LTPSUQIVw3j0xdkZi4hX5OYa5OpTOrqSA7n8kRaPQWQf8-TmHU7_EJor7ChP-tgOd_EE/s200/194690305_2798753e9e_m.jpg" /></a><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg-0t2qMW4rS9LoWhngP8wWUsaakK0nwVOv71ZzWA2eLRSW7fTJK3-bu6eAUCxDUfmbyiwGipTpnExe7unTuM-4RicidzitqG65Mq1ZAk6LbtRz8qDi1hy91dNaaWd3qRIn-CK9ZvHCrro/s1600/Natalie%2520Portman-Star%2520Wars.jpg"><br /></a><br />If somebody had told me three years ago that I'd be taking care of a baby, making dinner every day, ironing, cleaning, taking two classes for my masters, and going to work even when I was feeling sick and exhausted, I would have laughed. "So, Miss Fortune-Teller," I would have said, "maybe you can look in your crystal ball and tell me by what magic I'm able to accomplish all that."<br /><br />And she would have said: "Coffee."<br /><br />Of course, if that same person had told me that I'd be married to a wonderful man and mother to a beautiful, happy little girl, that I'd be working and going to school but doing something I like nonetheless, I suppose that would have been a major improvement on my life at the time.<br /><br />Without coffee, I am nothing. Generally a grouch and a whiner. With it, I become superwoman. A kinder, more upbeat person. I can get things done. I can even think coherently enough to do a bit of creative writing if I actually find the time.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-13272085014014989372010-08-19T20:43:00.000-07:002010-08-20T09:17:43.050-07:00Lunch, and other missing thingsIt's been three days since JY saw her father. When I get off work at the library and pick her up from my mom's, I take her home and JT is already fast asleep. I miss him too. I don't think I've had a real chat with him since Monday.<br /><br />He left his lunch at home today when he left for Academy. I'd have brought it to him but I have no idea where he is, let alone how to get there. I'm hoping he got some food. Maybe the other wives also heeded the advice to "overpack" their husbands' lunches and, thanks to their preparedness, my husband will eat something today.<br /><br />JY is growing up fast, ready for her 6 months clothes now (and really has been for a while).<br /><br />Jedi Wife: "Ooo look at these pajamas--they have little duckies on them!"<br /><br />Jedi Youngling: "Wow, duckies! Can I eat them?" (pulls the fleece toher mouth)<br /><br />I love the changing of the baby's wardrobe. Every three months or so is like Christmas! I get to dress JY up in all-new clothes that I haven't seen since the baby shower. The most adorable clothes on earth!jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-9214905098786541401.post-34065428720994568012010-08-18T08:29:00.000-07:002010-08-18T09:02:45.395-07:00My Marathon NightIt was about one o'clock in the morning when I went to bed last night. After putting the baby to bed, making JT's lunch, ironing and stitching up the hole in JT's uniform, I wrote a blog post and went to sleep. I knew I'd have to get up early for the cable guy to install a phone line today. But I figured I'd get at least seven hours of sleep and that would be more than sufficient. Life had other plans, as usual. <br /><br />3:00 a.m.: JT wakes up with an excruciating backache. His back has been bothering him a little for the last few days--apparently gun belts, although sexy, are also the number one reason why so many cops have bad backs. But last night he was in a terrible amount of pain. He couldn't move. <br /><br />I offer to take him to the hospital--no, I insist on it--but JT keeps saying he'll tough it out. We don't have insurance right now--the new department's plan won't cover us until September. I give him some Ibuprofen from a dental operation and eventually his pain decreases enough to where he and I are both able to get back to sleep. <br /><br />4:30 a.m.: JT’s phone rings. It's one of his classmates, of course. JT turned his phone off so I never found out what the guy wanted. I know they all get up early (JT sets his alarm for 5:00), but seriously? What was so important that this guy had to wake other people up? I’m sorry, but it’s hard enough trying to be supportive to one recruit--I do not need the rest of the class waking me up at 4:30 in the morning.<br /><br />5:15 a.m.: JT leaves for class. I’m stunned that he can even walk--but then again he was never one for calling in sick. He reminds me that the cable guy will be here at 8. I ask him to set my alarm for that time.<br /><br />5:57 a.m.: JY wakes up crying. I hold her, rock her, give her a pacifier, and try to talk some sense into her. “It’s too early, baby--don’t you think it’s a bit early to get up?” The message sinks in: she relaxes and goes back to sleep in her crib.<br /><br />6:45 a.m.: JY wakes up again--and lets me know that this time, she’s up for good.jediwifehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/12954739147910581496noreply@blogger.com3