<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672</id><updated>2011-10-12T02:06:27.210-04:00</updated><title type='text'>One Day At A Time</title><subtitle type='html'>I am a Soldiers' Angel Mom with an adopted Soldier Son who is presently deployed. This is our story. My thoughts and feelings, really, about getting through each day while a loved one is in harm's way, bravely serving our great country.</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>75</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-1991716733935399505</id><published>2011-04-13T19:50:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2011-04-13T19:50:06.682-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What Makes a Man?</title><content type='html'>Now that TB is back with his men I can talk about his trip home for Emergency Leave. It goes without saying that the trip was an emotional one. It may have appeared to the casual observer that TB was thoroughly enjoying himself. He is from the Virgin Islands, St Croix, specifically. When he was in high school, TB’s mother decided to move to North Carolina. He had not been back to St Croix since that time, although his mother and a few siblings moved back several years ago. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was good for TB to reconnect with childhood friends and family members he hadn’t seen in years, mostly cousins. On the other hand going home forced him to face demons he had buried long ago. For a man who has been through a grueling experience in Iraq and now in Afghanistan, this was a difficult process. To see how he has risen above the difficulties of his childhood to become the man he is now makes me very proud to know him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’ve written before about the connection TB has with the children in Afghanistan. I noticed it when he was in Iraq, also. Although he has painful memories that run very deep, he also has good memories that have helped shape him. In September of 1989 category 5 hurricane Hugo destroyed the tiny island of St. Croix. President George H.W. Bush sent troops to St. Croix in Operation Hawkeye to give humanitarian aid, provide security, and rebuild infrastructure. TB was eight years old and that was his first glimpse of American Soldiers. Two decades ago TB and his brothers and sisters were the kids in the pictures we now see of soldiers reaching out to children. They went without running water or electricity for an entire year. He recalls eating MRE's for a year and loving them. The soldiers would stop by and play with them before it got dark and curfew was mandated. That was 20+ years ago but every day when he puts on his uniform, he has a daily reminder of the kindness of those soldiers. TB feels strongly that the children in Iraq and Afghanistan also won’t forget and will "Pay it Forward" someday.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-1991716733935399505?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/1991716733935399505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/04/what-makes-man.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1991716733935399505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1991716733935399505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/04/what-makes-man.html' title='What Makes a Man?'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-8619051055486354827</id><published>2011-03-17T20:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-03-17T20:40:33.704-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Almost Home</title><content type='html'>I can’t say enough about the way the Red Cross responded to TB’s family emergency. The people who worked with me to get the message to TB and his command were compassionate, thorough, and dedicated. TB is not one to sit on his hands and do nothing. He notified his command prior to receipt of the message and he was sent on to a larger FOB to wait. I have no doubt that this move saved at least a day, and perhaps two, of wait time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB reached the States today. He called me during a long layover, halfway to his destination. He sounded extremely tired. I’m so happy that a mutual friend was able to meet him at the airport. Another brother (who cannot attend the funeral) and his family were also able to see him. This meant so much to TB. I was told he is at the point of exhaustion and although he claimed he was not hungry, when pressed to eat, devoured two sandwiches. Thank goodness for our good friend who was there to look out for him. I’m so grateful for that kindness. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As he faces this emotional experience, I pray that spending time with his family and friends will bring TB comfort. I pray for closure and peace of mind. His family will draw strength from him and I know he will be strengthened by their love.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-8619051055486354827?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/8619051055486354827/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/03/almost-home.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8619051055486354827'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8619051055486354827'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/03/almost-home.html' title='Almost Home'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-7200481369436853687</id><published>2011-03-12T16:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-12T16:52:33.726-05:00</updated><title type='text'>A Soldier’s Heartache</title><content type='html'>I’ve mentioned before the difficulties at home that our Troops have to deal with when they are deployed. When I wrote that piece I never imagined that my own TB would face tragedy at home. Today he received a message that one of his brothers died. Complete details are not available, but that isn’t important here. The lack of details does make it that much harder for TB, though. He’s hurting so much, feels isolated, and helpless. My heart hurts for him. I’ve made several phone calls for him and we are trying to get the necessary information so that a Red Cross emergency message can be sent to his Command. &lt;br /&gt;Of all the sons his mother thought she would bury, I expect TB was the one. He is in constant danger and has had a few close calls. My heart goes out to her. There is no greater tragedy than the loss of a child, no matter the circumstances. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What will TB do tomorrow? He will get up and do his job; go on a mission, keep his soldiers safe, and carry on. His heart will be heavy, but he will focus. His men know they can depend on him to lead the way. I've learned that pain, emotional and mental, does not interfere with TB's role as a leader or his mission to bring all of his men safely&amp;nbsp;home to their famillies.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-7200481369436853687?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/7200481369436853687/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/03/soldiers-heartache.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7200481369436853687'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7200481369436853687'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/03/soldiers-heartache.html' title='A Soldier’s Heartache'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-8392589393225342870</id><published>2011-03-03T20:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-03-03T20:43:26.334-05:00</updated><title type='text'>I Am a Blue Star Parent by Frederick J Seitz III</title><content type='html'>I am a Blue Star Parent... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;by Frederick J Seitz III on February 26, 2011 &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On my way home from work the other day, I stopped in at our Stop and Shop in East Islip to pick up a few things for dinner. Milk, eggs the usual stuff. We run out of these things on a regular basis, having two of our older kids living home. As I waited for my turn to step up and pay for my groceries, I noticed a young woman, maybe thirty years old, standing next to me and looking squarely at the " Blue Star Service" pin I wear proudly over my left breast pocket.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess it got the better of her, because she finally asked me, "What does that pin stand for?" I am kind of amazed, that with the war in Iraq and Afghanistan going on, and reports on the news every night, that anyone would not know what this pin symbolizes. However, that's just me, and for whatever the reason, unless the war has effected people directly, with either a family member or friend being involved, it seems Americans do not even know there IS a war being fought.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"What this is" I explained, "Is a Blue Star Service Pin, and it stands for a family member, my oldest son, serving on active duty in the United States Military." "Oh" she says. "I see those around but never knew what that was. God Bless him and thank him for us." I told her I would, and I thanked her for thinking of my son as well. I left the store and on the short hop home, decided to write this "Note", because not to many people really do know what this pin, or banner, or flag really mean. So I decided to start spreading the word.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Blue Star Banner is simply that. A simple blue star, on a white background bordered in red. It is displayed by a family, to honor a family member serving in the military. It is a symbol of a families sacrifice. You will see it displayed in the window of the home, on the back of cars or as a pin worn on clothing. There is one blue star displayed on the banner for each family member currently serving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To me, being a Blue Star Parent is many things. It is the pride and the honor of having our son serve our country during a time of war. It is sacrifice. Not just the sacrifice of our son and the thousands of other brave men and women serving in uniform, but of the sacrifice of their families as well. Holidays, birthdays and other special family occasions missed. An empty chair in the corner that SHOULD have our son sitting in it. It is a yellow ribbon on the lamp post in front of our home. The American flag posted displayed openly and proudly to honor ALL our military, past, present and future. It is family pictures with my wife holding a picture of our son to make the family "Complete" at Christmas. It's not being able to watch the news one second, and then not being able to tear yourself away the next, because of what is happening overseas. It's holding my wife as I try to be "The strong one", while the whole time I want just fall apart myself. And it is also a curse. On one hand I have the pride of my son's service, and on the other hand is the fear. A nameless and faceless fear that can not be readily identified specifically, but it is fear none the less and it is powerful, stressful and numbing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"How do you deal with that?" That's a question I hear over and over. The answer is simple, and I think any Blue Star parent will pretty much say the same thing. You just do it. We do it for our son Rick, proudly serving in the United States Air Force. We do it for ourselves to mutually support each other, so we can support our son. We do it for our beloved country. To help us cope, we volunteer and help other military families deal with the same stresses we deal with. We are members of the Blue Star Mothers of America, Soldiers' Angels and the Patriot Guard. All three are service organizations devoted to the support of our military and their families. This is how we deal with it, how we ALL deal with it as Blue Star Parents and families.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thing I have to remember is, no matter how tough it is being a Blue Star Parent, there are parents who display a star of different color, a Star of Gold. When you see this star, you need to know, that that family has lost their loved one serving. They, like their beloved son or daughter, HAVE made the ultimate sacrifice in the defense of our country, and their family member who is serving will not EVER be coming home. As tough, or as stressful as I think being a Blue Star Parent can be, I can not even begin to imagine what our Gold Star brothers and sisters go through every day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I could, I would ask each of you one simple favor. Keep our Soldiers, our Sailors, our Marines, our Airmen and our Coastguard in your thoughts and prayers. It is because of them and the sacrifices they make daily, that you are free to enjoy the freedoms you have as Americans. The American soldier fights, not because he hates what is in front of him, but because he loves what is behind him....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;HooAH!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-8392589393225342870?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/8392589393225342870/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-am-blue-star-parent-by-frederick-j.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8392589393225342870'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8392589393225342870'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/03/i-am-blue-star-parent-by-frederick-j.html' title='I Am a Blue Star Parent by Frederick J Seitz III'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2148208073952722773</id><published>2011-02-27T17:44:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-27T17:44:35.487-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Video Fun</title><content type='html'>Anyone who follows deployed Troops soon realizes they come up with all sorts of humorous ways to entertain each other. YouTube has plenty of videos with pranks, songs, and dances. TB and a few buddies have been filming short newscast videos. They call it I.E.D. News - International Entertainment Daily. TB ordered wigs, a moustache, and some fake microphones to add to the effect. He has been excited about posting the videos to his Facebook page. Due to the slow Internet, it takes a long time to upload each one, so he has only added a few. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t understand “friends” who send him emails with comments such as “Don’t you have anything better to do?”, “How come you guys aren’t working?”, “I guess you don’t have it so bad over there if you have time to play around.”&amp;nbsp; Seriously??? These guys have no days off. They miss holidays and birthdays. I won’t go into the hardships they’ve endured since I’ve addressed them here many times. They can’t have a few minutes of fun to keep morale up? The videos are less than two minutes each. If they spend 10 or 15 minutes a day goofing off they’re branded as slackers. This is one of those “shaking my head” moments.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2148208073952722773?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2148208073952722773/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/video-fun.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2148208073952722773'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2148208073952722773'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/video-fun.html' title='Video Fun'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6817966790704278923</id><published>2011-02-24T18:31:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-24T18:31:31.306-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Food</title><content type='html'>TB’s unit is based with soldiers from a European country. I won’t say what country it is, but it’s important to know that it isn’t one most people would think of. Most Americans probably wouldn’t even be able to list it as a country in Europe. I’ve heard complaints from our soldiers about these guys from the beginning of the deployment….the way they hog everything…the computers, the showers, the food. TB never mentioned it, so I asked him about it one day. He said, “Yea, it’s pretty bad.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I noticed similar postings on Facebook pages from half a dozen guys mentioning how hungry they were because these other soldiers were taking all the food. Rather than just eat their meal and leave, apparently they stuff food in their pockets, pretty much clearing out everything. So, when our guys get back from missions, there’s no food left. Wow! That is very upsetting! Our soldiers have dealt with the extreme heat of summer, no heat in winter, living out of vehicles, and receiving mail every 4 to 6 weeks. They shouldn’t have to go hungry because soldiers who are supposed to be fighting side-by-side with them are hoarding food!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6817966790704278923?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6817966790704278923/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/food.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6817966790704278923'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6817966790704278923'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/food.html' title='Food'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-5558965961735980854</id><published>2011-02-20T14:27:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-20T14:27:33.033-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weather Again</title><content type='html'>Last Monday I tripped and fell just as I was leaving for work. I landed hard on my right knee. It still hurts like the dickens. I must have tried to brace myself with my left arm as I fell because that shoulder is very painful. I mentioned it to a few people, but didn’t say anything to TB. No need to concern him. Besides, he was leaving the next day for an extended mission. As it turned out the mission was postponed due to bad weather. Someone must have snitched, because I received a 3 AM call from the remote mountain outpost this morning. The first thing TB wanted to know was if I was okay. He also wanted to let me know he was at the outpost since he hadn’t been able to update me before leaving. Due to the weather, they couldn’t take the vehicles which means they couldn’t take as many supplies. Again, because of the weather, this may be their longest mission yet, so I hope he has enough. The snow is knee-deep and TB said getting their clothes and feet dried out was going to be a real problem. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s times like this that I get a knot in my stomach. Is he warm? Is he dry? Does he have enough food? There’s nothing I can do about any of it. I’m frustrated by that! All I can do is pray and trust him. He’s tough and strong and smart, so I know he will get through it. I just wish he didn’t have to.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-5558965961735980854?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/5558965961735980854/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/last-monday-i-tripped-and-fell-just-as.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5558965961735980854'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5558965961735980854'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/last-monday-i-tripped-and-fell-just-as.html' title='Weather Again'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2244379953222640868</id><published>2011-02-19T14:53:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-19T14:53:13.805-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Weather</title><content type='html'>Snow, snow, and more snow. Not here, but in Afghanistan, at least in TB’s area….snow, ice, rain, mud, cold. The weather can be a real issue for our Troops. Of course, we’ve all heard about the extreme heat, especially in Iraq, and many of us have seen photos of huge sandstorms. The weather interferes with mail and resupply. They get stuck out on missions at mountain outposts for days beyond what was planned. (Readers will recall that the outpost is where TB’s squad sleeps on the ground.) Soldiers returning from leave find that it takes weeks to get back to their units. All due to weather conditions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On a lighter note, one of TB’s buddies told me his squad was in a village they frequently patrol. They were throwing snowballs and “the lil league of 8 yr olds came out to play. There were more snowballs in the air than I have ever seen before in my life. These kids were good! They were not only accurate, but they throw hard! These snowballs hurt! I think they were packing ice in them! And the 4 kids we started this snowball fight with, thinking we could win, multiplied! We had a whole neighborhood out pelting us with snowballs! I put my hands up, screamed ‘break contact’, and ran. The ANA soldiers covered our movement back to a little bit of cover but it didn’t help. These kids didn’t stop. They were out for blood! So the next day my squad figured we’d go in teams and flank them, but the kids were smarter than we were and stayed inside.”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2244379953222640868?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2244379953222640868/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/weather.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2244379953222640868'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2244379953222640868'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/weather.html' title='Weather'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-4844721020251159751</id><published>2011-02-15T05:25:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-15T05:25:20.350-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Valentine's Day</title><content type='html'>Since TB sent flowers, balloons, and two adorable teddy bears last month, I was caught completely by surprise yesterday when I came home to find two dozen roses, candy, and a lovely white teddy bear from him. I'm touched by more than the gifts.&amp;nbsp;TB often mentions how slow the Internet is there, so I know he probably had to use one of his times online just to place the order. As well as&amp;nbsp;I know him, I still shake my head at the mix of tough, war-hardened infantryman and sensitive, thoughtful man. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HFINaDBeQq4/TVpR2kJkyRI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/UkvEEAC090w/s1600/2011+002.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="320" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HFINaDBeQq4/TVpR2kJkyRI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/UkvEEAC090w/s320/2011+002.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-4844721020251159751?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/4844721020251159751/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines-day.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4844721020251159751'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4844721020251159751'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/valentines-day.html' title='Valentine&apos;s Day'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-HFINaDBeQq4/TVpR2kJkyRI/AAAAAAAAAQ4/UkvEEAC090w/s72-c/2011+002.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2711450912913531504</id><published>2011-02-03T19:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-02-03T19:57:08.987-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Children</title><content type='html'>I look forward to TB’s photos after a mission. They travel to remote villages and TB always attracts the kids. He’s like Santa, opening his pack, to give them little toys, candy, pens, and so on. He has learned to have the interpreters get the children to line up, otherwise they overrun him. Something that strikes me in the photos is the way TB gets down on the same level as the children. He is either sitting or on a knee. I’ve noticed too, that he makes certain the little girls are provided for, even though they are very shy and not as likely to hold out their hands as the boys. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB gets a great deal of joy from interacting with the children. He always tries to teach them something, whether it’s soccer, jump rope, or juggling small balls. If he gives them pen and paper, he teaches them how to write his name. If they get coloring books and crayons, he shows them how to color. A child how receives candy also receives a toothbrush and toothpaste and is taught how to use them. TB never leaves a village without showing the villagers the heart of an American soldier.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2711450912913531504?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2711450912913531504/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/children.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2711450912913531504'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2711450912913531504'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/02/children.html' title='Children'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-9214306969627277249</id><published>2011-01-30T16:42:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-30T16:42:27.777-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Warm(er) at Last</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;I received the typical 3:00 AM call last week. I had to laugh. The first thing TB wanted to know was why I hadn’t posted anything on his latest FB photos that show him with the scarf I made for him. He accused me of not noticing. It’s funny because I did notice right away. I thought it was odd because before leaving for that mission he told me about the latest mail and didn’t mention the scarf and more importantly the sleeping bag that was in the same box. Come to find out they received another mail drop just as they were leaving for their mission. He told his guys to check for any boxes that were for him. One of them just happened to be the sleeping bag. TB said it was great because his army issue bag, (the one that’s missing) is not quite long enough and the one I sent is extra-long. It was a longer than usual mission and the weather was especially bad with snow and wind, but he was toasty warm in his sub-zero bag! I just love the way things work out! &lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-9214306969627277249?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/9214306969627277249/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/warmer-at-last.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/9214306969627277249'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/9214306969627277249'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/warmer-at-last.html' title='Warm(er) at Last'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-519309431274460619</id><published>2011-01-21T18:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-21T18:21:17.120-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Gifts of Love and Support</title><content type='html'>“You don't find love, it finds you. It's got a little bit to do with destiny, fate, and what's written in the stars." Anaïs Nin&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB strongly believes we did not meet by chance. He mentions it often and seems to take comfort in the thought. The quote came to mind because of a wonderful gesture by TB. On Monday, I received two special deliveries, flowers and balloons. The day of their arrival, I learned that my 92-year-old father-in-law probably would not survive the week. He didn’t; passing away a few days later. TB knows nothing about that, but the timing was not lost on me. There’s a story behind the gifts, beyond TB’s desire to express his gratitude. I’m not ready to tell that story here, but&amp;nbsp;my war-hardened tough guy&amp;nbsp;is a&amp;nbsp;compassionate,&amp;nbsp;sensitive man who is looking out for me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-519309431274460619?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/519309431274460619/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/gifts-of-love-and-support.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/519309431274460619'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/519309431274460619'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/gifts-of-love-and-support.html' title='Gifts of Love and Support'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-4715642510080690689</id><published>2011-01-17T08:47:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-17T08:47:44.050-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Brrrr!</title><content type='html'>Many parts of our country are having a rough winter. For the most part, it doesn’t seem to be as bad as last winter, at least not for our part of the country, but last week Florida was the only contiguous state without snow. I don’t particularly like the cold, although I don’t hate it. I find myself being irritated with people who complain. People whose maximum amount of time spent outside amounts to the time it takes to walk from a warm building to a warm car. Granted some people have to shovel snow, I’m one of them, and it does get tiresome. I have little patience for all the complaining because I know where TB is and what the weather is like there. He does not have an inside job. He sleeps in an unheated building or on the ground. The wind can be strong and biting. It snowed there last week. As the photo shows, it wasn’t much, but if it’s cold enough to snow, it’s cold! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another package arrived for TB with food that can be used when he goes on missions. Unfortunately, the box with the below 0 sleeping bag did not arrive, even though I sent it a week prior to the one he received. He needed the food, no doubt about that, but the sleeping bag would be so helpful when he’s out on missions and has to sleep on the ground. I haven’t told him the bag is on the way. For one thing, I want him to be surprised. Also, I think it would be a little disheartening to know it’s out there somewhere when you are facing a cold night without a sleeping bag. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He never complains, though. I admire that so much.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-4715642510080690689?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/4715642510080690689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/brrrr.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4715642510080690689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4715642510080690689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/brrrr.html' title='Brrrr!'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6231866794364424149</id><published>2011-01-11T21:02:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-11T21:02:39.296-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Technology</title><content type='html'>We are so fortunate to live in a time when technology makes it possible to communicate with people all over the world. I remember my father telling me about his trip to the 1939 World’s Fair in New York City. My grandfather was the Headmaster of a Boys School on an island in Boston Harbor. Dad recalled visiting the telephone exhibit where they made a long distance phone call to his mother. He said it was so amazing to be able to talk from New York to Boston. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sometimes I think about the families of past wars. How difficult it must have been to go months, even years, without hearing from your soldier. Since TB never complains, I have to be a detective if I want to know how he’s doing, other than “tired, it was a long day”. I’m fortunate that I can see what TB’s soldiers are saying. I can “read” their moods and tell how it might be for him. That information gives me something to follow-up on when I talk to him. It’s amazing what you can find out if you know what to ask. I’ve learned to ask TB specific questions. At times the questions go unanswered. Today I asked him about something and he said he couldn’t tell me. I really hate when that happens. I always feel like I should know, but like I told him, until I ask I don’t know that some things are off limits. Although we are lucky to have so many ways to stay connected to our soldiers, we also have to be mindful of what we say. Technology is a double-edged sword.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6231866794364424149?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6231866794364424149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/technology.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6231866794364424149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6231866794364424149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/technology.html' title='Technology'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-3063245191853314069</id><published>2011-01-08T23:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-08T23:22:18.082-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Keeping Him Guessing</title><content type='html'>I learned from TB that when they go on missions, they sleep on the ground. Unfortunately, he has no sleeping bag to keep him warm because he still has not received his personal belongings that were packed for him while he was on leave. Thankfully, two of the boxes he received were the ones with his Army issue winter jacket and pants that I sent in October. He uses them and I know they are warm, but a sleeping bag would be that much better. He doesn’t know I sent a below 0˚ sleeping bag a few weeks ago. I hope it arrives soon. I love surprising him and I know it will make him very happy. I added a wool scarf that I crocheted to the box. It will be a nice, warm, welcome surprise. &lt;br /&gt;Part of getting through a deployment from this side is providing support. When TB hints at something he would like to have, it’s a huge relief. It gives me something to focus on and makes me feel useful. Sometimes I ask TB what he needs and his response is, “You do so much already.” So, last week when he told me “box #43 was the best ever!” I was thrilled. Two boxes similar to #43 are now on the way to Afghanistan. Of course, the day after I mailed them, he said, “I sure would love more of that chai latte." Oh my! I think it was the only thing in box #43 that I didn’t send. Kind of funny, though. I felt like telling him he planned it that way, just so I would send more packages, but I know that would make him feel guilty. I’ll send another box on Monday with the special chai that he loves. As long as it takes mail to reach him, all the boxes will probably arrive at the same time anyway. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I used to tell TB when&amp;nbsp;I sent a box and what was in it. I've stopped doing that because he loves the surprise of getting something he had no clue was coming. He knows I'm going to send things, but I realized a month or so ago that telling him everything ahead of time takes away some of the excitement of the infrequent mail deliveries.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-3063245191853314069?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/3063245191853314069/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/keeping-him-guessing.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/3063245191853314069'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/3063245191853314069'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/keeping-him-guessing.html' title='Keeping Him Guessing'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-7015885590400472858</id><published>2011-01-07T20:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-07T20:10:52.566-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Missing Mail</title><content type='html'>I received one of those 3 AM phone calls from TB a few days ago. The timing never matters to me. I was happy to hear that some of the missing mail I sent in October finally reached him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB loves banana bread. I sent some to him before he deployed. The package took several weeks to arrive and TB said the bread didn’t survive very well. In September he mentioned how much he would love to have some banana bread. It occurred to me that banana cookies might work, so I searched online for a recipe. I found one that fit his dietary restrictions. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some of the boxes TB received were the ones I sent on October 4th. The cookies were such a surprise to him! I kept telling him that he shouldn’t eat them but he insisted they were good and that he would be my guinea pig any day. Maybe he is right and the cold weather there helped preserve them. I always keep a few cookies when I send a batch. That way I can taste test them myself when I hear they arrive. The banana nut cookies I kept really weren’t so bad. A little stale, I thought, but after three months, I was surprised at how good they really were. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love surprising TB. Another mission accomplished!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-7015885590400472858?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/7015885590400472858/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/missing-mail.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7015885590400472858'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7015885590400472858'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/missing-mail.html' title='Missing Mail'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6074562564664160302</id><published>2011-01-03T20:14:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-03T20:14:42.123-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Hard Times and Brotherhood</title><content type='html'>Most deployed Troops are faced with difficult circumstances just by nature of the fact they are deployed. They are away from their loved ones for months at a time, in dangerous, primitive conditions, mortars, IEDs, firefights. Meanwhile, life goes on back home: girlfriends leave, spouses cheat, mothers, fathers, grandparents, even siblings pass away, babies are born, children get sick, have accidents, graduate, learn to walk and talk. Loved ones are making memories while their Troops are half a world away. If they are lucky special events might be viewed on webcam. What gets them through? Their comrades. It goes without saying that they rely on each other to watch their backs during a firefight, to come to their aide during an IED explosion, and to bolster them when a buddy is lost or wounded. Their Battle Buddies become their family, the ones who are there when their family is not. The bond is strong. The casual observer might wonder about the things soldiers say to each other; the humor, the personal jabs, the seemingly inappropriate comments about death or injury. Laughing at each other and at their circumstances helps keep them sane when the world around them seems completely insane. And when things go wrong at home, their Battle Buddies are right there. The compassion and support Troops have for their comrades is like no other. I’ve witnessed this empathy several times among TB and his buddies. It’s touching to observe these tough, war hardened, sometimes coarse young men pull a friend up when he’s hit with bad news from home. They are what’s good about America.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6074562564664160302?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6074562564664160302/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/hard-times-and-brotherhood.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6074562564664160302'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6074562564664160302'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/hard-times-and-brotherhood.html' title='Hard Times and Brotherhood'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-7884938013511108670</id><published>2011-01-02T14:17:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-02T14:17:12.234-05:00</updated><title type='text'>New Year's Call</title><content type='html'>I slept better last night than I have in a week. I had just gotten in bed when TB called. He said he hoped he didn’t wake me, but it was the best time to call. When I told him it was not quite midnight, still New Year's Day for me, he fussed, wanting to know why I was still up. It’s always wonderful to hear his voice and his laugh. He didn’t share much about his mission but he made sure I knew to expect long absences in the future. Just that little bit helps me have the right mindset when he’s silent for long periods of time. From the few things he mentioned, I know it was a tough mission. When he got back the power was out so there were no lights, no heat (as usual), and after being gone for nearly a week he couldn’t take a shower. It was more than a little depressing, but he got to his bed and found loads of mail! He was so happy to get the boxes with food and other things he and his men needed, but he said after everything he’d been through and the way he was feeling, the best mail was the cards and letters from me that said exactly what he needed to hear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We never know how something we say or do will touch someone. TB was home on leave when I wrote those letters. There was no reason for me to write extra words of encouragement and love at that time. He received them exactly when he needed them, though. TB marvels at that. I’m just happy the things I send and the words I write help him get through the difficult times.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-7884938013511108670?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/7884938013511108670/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/new-years-call.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7884938013511108670'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7884938013511108670'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/new-years-call.html' title='New Year&apos;s Call'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2607857460437499555</id><published>2011-01-01T12:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-01-01T12:03:02.137-05:00</updated><title type='text'>2010</title><content type='html'>As a Military Mom and a Troop Supporter, what did 2010 give me? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tears – more tears than I’ve ever cried in a year’s time. Tears of joy at a phone call, a package received, an email after a long silence, Free Mail, pictures, learning that someone is home safely. Tears of sadness from stories of missing home and loved ones, the loss of a friend, hunger, fatigue, loneliness: and knowing I can’t fix any of it. Many tears when the reality of TB’s impending deployment hit me. I remember telling him I had to get it out and be done with it; once that happened, I would be fine. &lt;br /&gt;Laughter - at silly jokes and pranks, at stories about what Troops do with things I send, at responses to things I say. TB has a way of telling about a relatively normal event that makes you laugh and shake your head. We never have a phone call that isn’t peppered with laughter. Chats are the same. One way or another we always make each other laugh. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2010 gave me friendship – some fleeting, some lasting – hope for the future, and strength I never thought I’d have. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I joined Soldiers’ Angels to offer support and to show that people back in the States care. I’ve been blessed by that decision more than I ever imagined possible. For every letter, email, and package I’ve sent, for every bit of time and energy I’ve expended, I have been repaid more than ten thousand fold. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As the new year begins I look forward to more of the same – tears, laughter, friendships – and the joy of TB redeploying.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2607857460437499555?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2607857460437499555/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/2010.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2607857460437499555'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2607857460437499555'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2011/01/2010.html' title='2010'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-5398604428954611953</id><published>2010-12-29T21:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-29T21:21:42.238-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Military Families</title><content type='html'>TB’s deployment has opened a world to me that I wish more Americans could see. Because&amp;nbsp;I have a dear friend whose husband was deployed, I am not completely new to the emotional roller coaster military families endure. I’ve become friends with families who have sons in TB's brigade. We share our fears, joys, frustrations, anxieties, and tears. Many of the parents have no military background or deployment experience, but we learn together as we lean on each other. We have become a safe place to ask questions, seek advice, and share our emotional highs and lows. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deployment does not put a halt to the difficulties of life. Our small group of 35 families has dealt with death, divorce, medical problems, accidents, pregnancies, and much more while worrying about their Soldier’s safety and living conditions. Military families make tremendous sacrifices. They are strong, caring people who learn what to say when their Soldier loses a buddy, how to put on their game face, as TB says, which questions to ask and which to let go. They learn to accept long periods of silence and to make the most of a 15 minute phone call. &amp;nbsp;Meanwhile, they carry on with their jobs, their&amp;nbsp;household responsibilites, their lives in the best way they can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-5398604428954611953?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/5398604428954611953/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/military-families.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5398604428954611953'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5398604428954611953'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/military-families.html' title='Military Families'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-322003601404073693</id><published>2010-12-27T20:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-27T20:08:06.871-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Stockings</title><content type='html'>Before Thanksgiving, the kids at school stuffed 36 stockings for me to send to the Troops. Fifteen of them went to TB for him to hand out to his guys. Thanks to friends at church, I had plenty of items to put in the stockings. I mailed them the Friday after Thanksgiving. I know the Military makes a special effort to get mail through at this time of year, but I was still a little concerned that they might not get there in time for Christmas. I was very relieved when TB told me the packages arrived mid-week. He posted some photos of the guys with the stockings. It was great to see who received them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I suppose I should say that I sent 14 stockings because the 15th was a mini-stocking with coal for TB. I couldn’t resist. Of course, I also sent a special stocking that was about 4 feet long. It was such a good feeling when he said he needed everything in it. I had no idea how much he would need the poly-pro shirt and pants or the warm gloves when I bought them. I also sent a Bore Snake and other things he can use to keep his gun in good order. I knew he wouldn’t eat the traditional Christmas meal that might be served, so I made sure to include a variety of canned fish and seafood. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of TB’s guys have good support now, so I wasn’t worried that they would be forgotten at Christmas. I just wanted them to have a little something extra. Something to make them smile, at least for a little while.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-322003601404073693?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/322003601404073693/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/stockings.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/322003601404073693'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/322003601404073693'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/stockings.html' title='Stockings'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-1688089839991641426</id><published>2010-12-24T20:24:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-24T20:24:48.174-05:00</updated><title type='text'>‘Twas the Night Before Christmas: A Poem for My Hero</title><content type='html'>‘Twas the Night Before Christmas: A Poem for My Hero&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;By Betsy Bursey&lt;br /&gt;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;December 24, 2010&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;'Twas the night before Christmas and all through the land&lt;br /&gt;All the people were thinking of what they had planned &lt;br /&gt;Presents and laughter and family and food&lt;br /&gt;Excitement and joy was the dominant mood&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Children tucked safely in bed, sound asleep&lt;br /&gt;Were dreaming of presents piled in a heap&lt;br /&gt;Parents and grandparents by the fire as it glowed&lt;br /&gt;Looked out on the beautiful, glistening snow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I glanced out the window at the calm, silent night&lt;br /&gt;And was filled with wonder at the peaceful sight&lt;br /&gt;As the hour grew late and sleep beckoned me&lt;br /&gt;I found myself down on bended knee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Outside it was dark, but for the yellow moon&lt;br /&gt;As I thought of my son and his brave platoon&lt;br /&gt;Their day was beginning as mine came to an end&lt;br /&gt;So my fervent prayer up to God I did send&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Protect them, I pled, from the seen and unseen&lt;br /&gt;From mortars and firefights and IED’s&lt;br /&gt;Give endurance and strength and courage today&lt;br /&gt;To those who are fighting half a world away&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I prayed for my Hero and those by his side&lt;br /&gt;As they stood strong and brave with American pride&lt;br /&gt;I prayed for the families they’d each left behind&lt;br /&gt;And asked God to give them all peace of mind&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I knelt there in silence, his dogtags in my hand&lt;br /&gt;Thinking of my soldier in that faraway land&lt;br /&gt;I whispered his name and as I always do,&lt;br /&gt;Added words he counts on, “Be safe, love you”&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-1688089839991641426?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/1688089839991641426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/twas-night-before-christmas-poem-for-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1688089839991641426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1688089839991641426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/twas-night-before-christmas-poem-for-my.html' title='‘Twas the Night Before Christmas: A Poem for My Hero'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-126575963935712437</id><published>2010-12-20T08:38:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-20T08:39:05.454-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Progress</title><content type='html'>I accomplished more yesterday than I thought I would. Late afternoon and evening were definitely more productive than the earlier part of the day. I easily finished the Christmas cards and packed three boxes for TB. I had the foresight early last week to have my class write letters to my soldiers, so those will be this week's letters. I'm glad I didn't save that activity for Thursday, as I originally planned, since Thursday and Friday were both "snow days". The guys love hearing from the kids and as usual the letters are very cute. A short personal note from me and the Troop mail will be ready for today's mail.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's supposed to be the busiest day at the post office so I'm trying to decide if I should take TB's boxes today or wait until tomorrow. It takes so long for his mail to arrive that I wonder if one day will matter. Then again, I always have this feeling that one day might make a difference. Suppose they decide to transport mail from one FOB to another the day before my boxes arrive? Well, that could happen on any given day I suppose. Oh man, I'm laughing at myself over this! TB says I think too much. I believe he's right.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-126575963935712437?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/126575963935712437/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/progress.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/126575963935712437'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/126575963935712437'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/progress.html' title='Progress'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-812217661822536822</id><published>2010-12-19T15:19:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T15:19:50.755-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Out of Whack</title><content type='html'>I hate days like this. There is so much to do - Christmas cards to write, boxes to pack for TB, letters to my Soldiers to write, clothes to wash, thank you&amp;nbsp;notes to write. And yet I can't concentrate on anything. I wish I knew why. I spend a few minutes doing one thing and then another but not really accomplishing much. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Church was wonderful this morning. Our choir did their special cantata. As always, it was beautiful and inspiring. I was sitting there feeling filled-up by the glorious music when a scene flitted through my mind of a phone call and nothing else except NOOOOOOO!!!!! I don't understand where this comes from. I suppose it's normal, but it really makes no sense right now. It's not as if TB hasn't been around. I got online last night just before midnight. I guess his time must have been up because he was on YM and&amp;nbsp;immediately wrote "sorry gotta run love u" and then was gone. He was on Facebook later, too,&amp;nbsp;when I was asleep. I could understand these thoughts and feelings if I hadn't heard from him for days. I don't know....shaking my head. Time to go do something....start a load of laundry, finish the boxes for TB, get those Christmas cards addressed, then start on the letters to the Troops. Concentrate. Focus.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-812217661822536822?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/812217661822536822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/out-of-whack.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/812217661822536822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/812217661822536822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/out-of-whack.html' title='Out of Whack'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-4315132794686738933</id><published>2010-12-16T15:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-16T15:19:05.173-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Army Mom Strong</title><content type='html'>It’s been a rough few days as I’ve learned about the conditions of the place where TB now finds himself. Little heat, scarce food, personal belongings not yet brought in, including TB’s mail that arrived while he was on leave. Mail that ironically could provide some warmth and nutrition. Sigh. It is what it is. All I can do is try to get the word out, pull people together, and go from there. I am so thankful for those who have answered the call. I pray that all the boxes sent to TB and his buddies arrive in good time. One of his buddies has yet to receive a box I sent on 10 November. A week later I sent TB and a buddy boxes with Christmas cards for their soldiers to send to loved ones back home. When those finally arrive maybe the guys can build a fire and heat up some food. Although the food, sleeping conditions, and cold concern me, I know the guys will be fine. They can handle those things. Soldiers have dealt with such conditions for centuries. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Days pass without a new post because at times I honestly don’t know how to express what I’m thinking or feeling. My purpose in writing this blog was to put my thoughts in writing and to convey what it’s like from my point of view to go through a deployment. What happens, though, when you’re afraid to think? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A short online conversation with TB this morning reminded me that the living conditions are the least of his concerns. His thoughts were scattered, as if there were specific things he had on his mind to tell me. And although the conversation went in several directions, he kept going back to one thing. I try to analyze his words and read between the lines. Why did he mention three times the one aspect of his job that he has absolutely no control over, the one thing that causes him the greatest concern? Why did he ask me to pray for him? To prepare me? To get it off his chest? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His job frightens me, but I know he is well trained and he is very good at what he does. He’s been looking forward to this change because he’s doing what he loves. I find comfort in that. I’m glad he trusts me not to fall apart on him, but sometimes I wonder if he might view my non-emotional response as lack of concern. When he was in Iraq he said he couldn’t deal with the thought of me worrying about him. I learned then to keep my emotions in check. No “OMG!” or “Where have you been? I’ve been so worried about you!” Nothing along those lines. He trusts me to be strong, so I sit here, my eyes filled with tears that TB will never know about, and I pray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-4315132794686738933?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/4315132794686738933/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/army-mom-strong.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4315132794686738933'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4315132794686738933'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/army-mom-strong.html' title='Army Mom Strong'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-125604914229287028</id><published>2010-12-06T21:26:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-12-06T21:26:28.636-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Limbo</title><content type='html'>TB is in limbo...waiting to move on. I'm in limbo...waiting for I don't know what...just waiting.&amp;nbsp;The good news&amp;nbsp;is that for now&amp;nbsp;he is in a relatively safe place, compared to where he could be....will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His guys arrived back from a long, successful&amp;nbsp;mission that I believe TB regrets missing. Now they are all at a temporary base awaiting the next step. I wouldn't mind if he stayed there for a while. I know what lies ahead and it concerns me. TB is looking forward to the challenge. He's not one to sit around and do nothing. He wants to be out there making a difference, putting all his training to use, leading his guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB's past deployment prepared him well for the task ahead.&amp;nbsp;For his soldiers it will be a completely new experience. They're a closeknit group, though, and I know they will listen to him and learn from him. I push aside thoughts of the importance of that. for his safety as well as theirs. They must learn quickly, stay focused, and watch each other's backs. They're good guys. I'm counting on them. &amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-125604914229287028?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/125604914229287028/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/limbo.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/125604914229287028'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/125604914229287028'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/12/limbo.html' title='Limbo'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2373834178150280169</id><published>2010-11-27T16:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-27T16:52:59.685-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Here We Go Again</title><content type='html'>Why is it whenever I think I’m ready for something, I discover I’m not quite as prepared as I thought? I didn’t hear from TB a lot when he was home, but I knew pretty much where he was and what he was doing. As he has made his way back to his squad, he’s contacted me every day to let me know his whereabouts. His last words to me on chat were, “gotta go … I’ll update u …. love you ttyl”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;waiting….waiting…..waiting…..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know where he was supposed to go next. I mentally calculate the time it takes to get from one destination to the next. It has been too long since he was online, at least in my mind. He is not one to pass up an opportunity to be online if it presents itself. And yes, I know all the scenarios that will explain his absence. My greatest hope is that he reached one destination and was immediately able to proceed. He’s anxious to get back. His guys want him back. “We need him here,” a few have told me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And so I wait….feeling anxious…the feeling I wasn’t prepared for. I’m an old hand at this, after all. Time to put my&amp;nbsp;game face on and get into&amp;nbsp;my battle rhythm. Here we go again.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2373834178150280169?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2373834178150280169/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/11/here-we-go-again.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2373834178150280169'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2373834178150280169'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/11/here-we-go-again.html' title='Here We Go Again'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-152052206558703284</id><published>2010-11-23T20:52:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-23T20:52:15.074-05:00</updated><title type='text'>End of R&amp;R</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;I’ve spent the last week or so quietly sitting on the sidelines observing TB as he enjoyed his leave. It’s been a wonderful time for him and his children. It amazes me that a man who has been in a remote area of a foreign country for months, who has not seen his children for two years, can take on the task of single-handedly caring for two young children for nearly two weeks. TB called a few nights ago and told me that many mornings he woke up stretched out across the bed, fully clothed, shoes still on, where he had passed out from exhaustion. It made me laugh to think of this big, physically fit soldier who easily climbs mountains with 80+ pounds of gear knocked out by caring for two young children. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-152052206558703284?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/152052206558703284/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/11/end-of-r.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/152052206558703284'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/152052206558703284'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/11/end-of-r.html' title='End of R&amp;R'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2544069193892790422</id><published>2010-11-11T21:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2010-11-11T21:22:55.347-05:00</updated><title type='text'>R&amp;R</title><content type='html'>Has it really been 10 days since&amp;nbsp;I posted? It's all TB's fault! Not really, but if&amp;nbsp;I have to blame someone it might as well be him. He would get a kick out of that. In all honesty, it is partly his fault because he is home on leave and I am feeling relaxed about his situation for now. Yesterday he surprised his daughter. She knew he was coming soon, but did not know exactly when. I hope someone took pictures. I haven't had a chance to ask him about it. He tried to do a video call today, but I was teaching, so the timing was bad. Silly boy, he never can keep the time differences straight. He was supposed to take his kids to the mall. I can't wait to hear how that went! Maybe we will catch up this weekend.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2544069193892790422?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2544069193892790422/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/11/r.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2544069193892790422'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2544069193892790422'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/11/r.html' title='R&amp;R'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-5818331507970792793</id><published>2010-11-01T19:20:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-11-01T19:20:58.846-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Optimism</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;TB has been bouncing around from one place to another. I arrived home from church yesterday to find him online waiting for me. His time was almost up but he was able to tell me where he was, give me a quick update and say “love you…bye” It’s one of the things you learn to accept. I could sit here and feel sad that I didn’t get home earlier and that we didn’t have more time, but I feel fortunate that I arrived home in time to chat for a few minutes. I know where he is and that he’s safe. It’s the not knowing that’s difficult to handle at times. Who am I kidding…it’s always hard to handle. Where is he? What is he doing? Is he warm enough? Is he eating enough?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;Is he spending the night on a craggy mountaintop?&lt;span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"&gt;&amp;nbsp; &lt;/span&gt;It can be overwhelming. I’m generally a very optimistic person but there are times when I have to work at it. I’ve discovered that my mind can quickly wander into the danger zone of negative thinking and worry. It serves no purpose, of course. It certainly doesn’t help TB and it drags me down. I promised him before he deployed that I would keep my game face on, so I remind myself that he is physically, mentally, and emotionally strong, well-trained, the ultimate soldier surrounded by good men. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-5818331507970792793?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/5818331507970792793/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/11/optimism.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5818331507970792793'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5818331507970792793'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/11/optimism.html' title='Optimism'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-7612497735912947104</id><published>2010-10-24T20:44:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T20:44:58.390-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Communication</title><content type='html'>The past week was a good one for communication. TB had to go to a larger base for a class. He completed that and as often happens where he is, travel plans are iffy and determined on a day-to-day, even hour-to-hour, basis. He doesn't seem to be frustrated, though. I know he is enjoying the larger gym and better facilities. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We have been able to communicate online quite a bit. It's been very similar to when he was at his home base, before deployment. It's funny that it's my schedule that interferes with our communication more than anything else right now. The best time for him to be online is usually when I'm asleep or working. I guess he got fed up with that because one evening he appeared online around 2 am his time. The next thing I knew my computer was ringing like a telephone. It startled me at first and then I saw his YM message "ring ring" and realized he was making a video call. We talked for over 2 hours. It was so much fun! In retrospect I have to laugh at the way we jump from one topic to another...some serious, some funny, and some just plain nonsense that only the two of us would understand. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This weekend we weren't able to chat much at all. TB came online early this evening and I was certain we would have a nice long chat. Within 20 minutes, though, he said he had to get off, but hoped he would be on tomorrow so we could talk. One thing about TB, he always signs off with "love you" no matter how hurried he is. If he has a few extra minutes and we continue to exchange a few words, each of his comments ends with "love you" as if he wants to make sure that's the last thought he leaves with me.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-7612497735912947104?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/7612497735912947104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/10/communication.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7612497735912947104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7612497735912947104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/10/communication.html' title='Communication'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6852139919186442329</id><published>2010-10-17T19:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-17T19:42:52.202-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What a Sweetheart!</title><content type='html'>I believe this is the longest I've gone without posting. I was away for a few days last week on a school camping trip and there's always so much to do beforehand that it's hard to get to everything. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little over a week ago my phone rang. It was an odd number and I know what that means. Sure enough it was TB. We talked briefly and then he said he was calling because one of his soldiers received a package from his Angel who is also my good friend. The soldier wanted to call her and say thanks. I had the opportunity to chat with that young man briefly. He was so sweet and appreciative. This particular soldier was the one TB had been concerned about because he did not get any mail during the last mail drop. TB and I talked for a short time, mostly about the flowers, and then he had to go. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day TB called again. He was somewhat chagrined because he was so focused on his soldier the day before that he neglected to say anything about the packages he received from me. We talked for a little over an hour and as is his way he encouraged me to ask all the questions I had filed away in my head. When he was satisfied that I had all the information I wanted, he talked about some of the things that are heavy on his mind. Bless his heart he has so much to deal with. Some of it is related to where he is and his rank. That I can understand. It’s the drama from friends who don’t fully understand that dumping all their problems on him is unfair. He’s so tired of people complaining about their bad restaurant experiences, venting about traffic and roommates, and whining about work. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thursday evening after my return from camping I was surprised to see TB online. He had just finished guard duty. It was very late and he was exhausted. He had an early mission the next day, but wanted to get online to see if I was there…just to make sure I was back and find out how the trip went. What a sweetheart!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6852139919186442329?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6852139919186442329/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/10/what-sweetheart.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6852139919186442329'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6852139919186442329'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/10/what-sweetheart.html' title='What a Sweetheart!'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-5891614279756317847</id><published>2010-10-07T20:42:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-07T20:42:23.352-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Birthday Boy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;The big 3-0 finally arrived for TB. I was nervous about the kind of day it would be. I knew he had a mission early in the day. He said he would open his gifts when he returned. I tried really hard to make it a good day for him, but I had plenty of help. Thanks to many wonderful friends, Soldiers’ Angels, and my class, I collected 64 birthday cards for him. I sent one of his buddies a box with a silly party hat and 24 party bags to share with the two squads. He kept the box hidden until TB's birthday. There were 30 gifts for him to open. The idea was to open them in order from 1 to 30, with the best gift being #30. When I looked at the photos he sent I could tell he did it just the opposite. Obviously he figured out what I’d done. Kind of funny that after waiting nearly two weeks to open the gifts, he couldn’t wait to open the best ones first. His big gift was a set of wireless headphones so he can listen to music while he works out. I was stumped about what to send, but I asked one of his buddies and that was his suggestion. Care packages will be on the way soon to the two guys who helped me make this a good birthday for TB. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-5891614279756317847?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/5891614279756317847/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/10/birthday-boy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5891614279756317847'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5891614279756317847'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/10/birthday-boy.html' title='Birthday Boy'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-4856651727220082293</id><published>2010-10-05T19:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-10-05T19:22:08.235-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;TB and I have a running joke about surprises. He knows I love them and will frequently send an instant message saying “surprise!!” when he appears online. It’s just a silly thing, but it always makes me laugh. He likes surprises, too, as evidenced by his reaction to the arrival of his birthday packages. I was not prepared for the surprise I received a few days ago when the FedEx man appeared at my door with a box containing red roses. The note was beautiful and heartfelt, although unsigned. So typical! I knew who they were from, even though he had fun denying it. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TKuylHsC0pI/AAAAAAAAAOk/9zTkK3r6HNg/s1600/2010+089.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TKuylHsC0pI/AAAAAAAAAOk/9zTkK3r6HNg/s320/2010+089.jpg" width="272" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-4856651727220082293?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/4856651727220082293/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/10/surprise.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4856651727220082293'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4856651727220082293'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/10/surprise.html' title='Surprise!!'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TKuylHsC0pI/AAAAAAAAAOk/9zTkK3r6HNg/s72-c/2010+089.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2781271117448439390</id><published>2010-09-30T22:56:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-30T22:56:47.111-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Compassionate Man</title><content type='html'>Webster defines compassion as sympathetic consciousness of others' distress together with a desire to alleviate it. It describes TB perfectly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB received quite a lot of mail in that last mail delivery. One of his soldiers received nothing. TB said he knew that look. He'd had it in Iraq before he met me. One of the boxes I sent had a blanket that he's been waiting for. He gave the blanket and a few other things I sent to his soldier so he wouldn't be sad. I had my class and the other kids at school autograph a new blanket and mailed it the next day. Some of my friends have stepped up to send blankets to the group. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB's&amp;nbsp;compassion goes beyond his soldiers. He has a personal mission to make the winter easier for the locals, especially the women and children. He asked if I could get donations for blankets, warm clothes, gloves, socks, and canned food. When I think of this man who is so physically and emotionally tough reaching out to others, noticing their struggles, and doing something to help, my heart melts. How often do we see someone else suffering and shake our heads and say, "What a shame. Somebody should do something." TB&amp;nbsp;doesn't let it pass, thinking that others&amp;nbsp;will help. When everyone else is saying, "Not me", he's saying "I will".&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2781271117448439390?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2781271117448439390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/compassionate-man.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2781271117448439390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2781271117448439390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/compassionate-man.html' title='A Compassionate Man'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6350435663929491458</id><published>2010-09-27T21:23:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-27T21:23:08.061-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mail Call</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0in 0in 0pt;"&gt;Days pass and I don’t post here, not because I have nothing to say, but rather because there’s so much to say that my mind is a jumble and it’s difficult to sort it all out. TB seems to have back-to-back missions. I worry that perhaps exhaustion is setting in, but that’s just my take on it. He hasn’t indicated anything of the sort. Just me being a mom. He had a particularly long and stressful mission recently. When he arrived back in his room he discovered many packages from me. My tough guy got a little choked up. I was shocked that his birthday boxes arrived so quickly. Since his 30&lt;sup&gt;th&lt;/sup&gt; birthday is on the horizon, I sent 30 gifts. The gifts range from silly, (a mini-microphone that “grows” when you soak it in water), to small (a local magnet, a bookmark), to ones he will love (a red work out shirt, a phone card, and headphones for his iPod), but they were all wrapped and numbered. He said he will wait until his birthday to open them. I’m happy about that. He had the joy of receiving those boxes and others when he really needed a boost and can still have the pleasure of gifts on his birthday. He was very surprised to get his favorite homemade oatmeal raisin cookies. TB doesn’t know that his battle buddy has a box filled with party bags, a birthday hat, and a Happy Birthday Banner so all the guys can celebrate along with him. I hope someone takes pictures! &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6350435663929491458?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6350435663929491458/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/mail-call.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6350435663929491458'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6350435663929491458'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/mail-call.html' title='Mail Call'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2580567117251722686</id><published>2010-09-21T21:18:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-21T21:18:00.778-04:00</updated><title type='text'>"Home" Again</title><content type='html'>TB has been back at his homebase for several days. Within 24 hours he was out on a long mission. He seems happy to be back doing what he loves and what he’s trained for. I’m glad he loves it so much. I suppose when it comes down to it, I take comfort in that. If something should happen to him, he truly is doing what he loves. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m also happy that TB is so physically fit. He sent photos that provide insight into what life is like. I’ve been fortunate to receive information over the years from a lot of troops in a variety of places, so I feel as if I have a good idea about the situation TB is in. Some of the photos he sent caught me off guard, though. I can see why he works so hard to keep his soldiers fit, telling them to eat right, work out, stay away from junk food. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s easy for me to say I’m proud of TB. I wish there was some better way to say it, something that would really express the depth and expanse of my pride. A friend recently said, “The more you tell me about him, the more I understand why you love him.” TB is a great soldier, that’s for certain, but that’s just part of who he is.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2580567117251722686?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2580567117251722686/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/home-again.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2580567117251722686'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2580567117251722686'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/home-again.html' title='&quot;Home&quot; Again'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6145431535199828049</id><published>2010-09-15T21:14:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-15T21:14:16.704-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Fatigue</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I posted about courage. One of the quotes I used was, "Courage, above all things, is the first quality of a warrior." After chatting with TB this afternoon, another quote came to mind; "The first virtue in a soldier is endurance of fatigue; courage is only the second virtue." ~ Napoleon Bonaparte &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At this time the quote does not apply to TB, but rather to his men back at the home base. I can tell he is concerned about them and anxious to get back. They are being pushed hard and TB is concerned that fatigue may become an issue. He's very familiar with this from his experience in Iraq. It's interesting to me, because I am getting a few guilt vibes from him. He is at the larger base with more amenities and much less to do while he waits. He's bored. Ever anxious to be on the move, involved with his men, and doing what he does best - leading from the front. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While he is torn between these two places, I am torn between enjoying better contact and greater safety and wanting him to be happy doing what he loves. It was tempting to say to him, “What? Are you crazy? You want to go back there? Enjoy the time where you are.” But that would have been the wrong thing to say. So, I bit my tongue, or rather, sat on my hands, and empathized with his situation.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6145431535199828049?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6145431535199828049/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/fatigue.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6145431535199828049'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6145431535199828049'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/fatigue.html' title='Fatigue'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-9047283876344203120</id><published>2010-09-14T20:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-14T20:32:08.149-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Courage</title><content type='html'>I frequently come across quotes about courage. I don’t have a favorite, but here are a few I like.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Courage, above all things, is the first quality of a warrior." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Courage is contagious. When a brave man takes a stand, the spines of others are often stiffened." ~ Billy Graham &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Courage is being scared to death - but saddling up anyway." ~ John Wayne &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You have to accept whatever comes and the only important thing is that you meet it with courage and with the best that you have to give." ~ Eleanor Roosevelt &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." ~ Nelson Mandela&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB is still at a larger base. He called again yesterday to let me know he received another package. He’s receiving mail much faster where he is now. Last week TB joined a group attempting to deliver mail to his home base, but they had to turn back. The infrequent arrival of mail at the home base and the lack of internet access make it difficult for the guys to get items they need. Some of the much larger bases have good PX's and many items available. Apparently it was decided that someone needed to go to the larger base and procure things people need. TB volunteered. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love that TB shares things with me and that he feels I’m strong enough to handle what he tells me. That brings me full circle to why I’ve been thinking about courage. What is it really? I don’t know for sure. I just know he has it. The roads he has to travel from his base to others are full of dangers; unspeakable, horrible dangers. But he and a few others volunteered to be the ones to go. Now that he is away, he worries about his men and the missions they conduct each day. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yes, I’m fine with him being where he is for now, chatting several times a day, receiving mail every week, calling me just to talk. But mostly he’s safer – not safe – but safer. The day will come though, when he will make that journey back to his home base and I will be on my knees, praying that his courage is rewarded with a safe trip.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-9047283876344203120?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/9047283876344203120/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/courage.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/9047283876344203120'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/9047283876344203120'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/courage.html' title='Courage'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-5897156983172534484</id><published>2010-09-08T21:17:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-08T21:17:29.308-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Back to School</title><content type='html'>Tuesday was our first day of school. I've been looking forward to the new year because I know it will keep me busy. I didn't expect TB to have internet access when school started, so we have both had to adjust to that. I'm usually busy with my class when he's online, so we haven't chatted too much the last few days. Yesterday evening&amp;nbsp;he got up in the middle of the night and we had a nice long chat.&amp;nbsp;Today I didn't see him at all, but he posted a message on my Facebook wall. It's the little things like that that help you get through the day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monday TB was very excited because he received a package from me.&amp;nbsp;I keep a record of each package and what's in it. There are a few boxes that haven't reached him yet - a small electric heater, instant oatmeal, a hot pot and tea, and a blanket. None&amp;nbsp;of these things would be of much use to him where he is now. Those boxes would need to be sent on to his permanent base. Oddly enough the box he received had body wash, lotion, and other items that he really needed. He was so happy! Once again we are both amazed at the way things work out. What good would the box with the heater have been to him? But getting that box with hygiene items was perfect timing! A buddy back at&amp;nbsp;TB's permanent base said he has mail waiting there, so I suppose the other boxes were sent on.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-5897156983172534484?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/5897156983172534484/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-to-school.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5897156983172534484'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5897156983172534484'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/back-to-school.html' title='Back to School'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-4462539293773191038</id><published>2010-09-02T21:15:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-09-02T21:15:55.735-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Communication Blitz!!</title><content type='html'>I've been sleeping pretty well lately, especially this week since I've gone back to work. Getting used to a new routine and&amp;nbsp;working all day to get the classroom ready have been more tiring than I expected.This morning I woke up around 4 am. I lay there for a while, fighting the urge to get up and get online. Finally I gave in and what should I see but TB on Messenger! Oh my! I'm always amazed when that kind of thing happens, but it seems to occur often for us.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB is temporarily at a different FOB that has internet access. I'm loving this! We've chatted three times today! He sent photos first thing this morning. One was of him holding up&amp;nbsp;two of the boxes I sent; one in each hand. How he can do that is beyond me! What I really love about the photo is the expression on his face! It makes my heart sing to see him so happy and content looking. He posted great photos on Facebook that give a good idea about the terrain. It's very rugged and austere.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's so nice to have him right there and to have an actual back and forth conversation instead of waiting 12, 24, or more hours. I know it's a lot easier for him, too. It won't last long, but that's okay. I'm enjoying it while I can.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-4462539293773191038?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/4462539293773191038/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/communication-blitz.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4462539293773191038'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4462539293773191038'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/09/communication-blitz.html' title='Communication Blitz!!'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-1436451269589214135</id><published>2010-08-24T21:52:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-24T21:53:26.313-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mail at Last</title><content type='html'>Several days ago I received a wonderful 5 AM wake up call from TB. It was a number I didn't recognize, so I wasn't positive it was him. A male voice asked to speak to me. When I realized it was him, he said, "You know I always have a reason for calling." My first thought was that something had happened&amp;nbsp; He's such a stinker, pulling that on me. I'm not sure he meant to, though. It was probably just the way my mind was working. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At long last they recieved a mail drop!&amp;nbsp;TB was happy to have the fan and so many other things I'd sent. Eight of the nine boxes arrived, including the one that had&amp;nbsp;the replacement lenses for his sunglasses. Oddly enough the box I mailed prior to that one, didn't arrive. That particular box has the hot pot.&amp;nbsp;Hopefully it will&amp;nbsp;be there soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB&amp;nbsp;told me about one of his soldiers who didn't receive any mail. I feel so badly about that. Fortunately I was able to get some wonderful people to take care of him. I'm so proud of TB for looking out for his soldiers.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-1436451269589214135?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/1436451269589214135/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/mail-at-last.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1436451269589214135'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1436451269589214135'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/mail-at-last.html' title='Mail at Last'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-9082014970118501214</id><published>2010-08-12T20:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-12T20:22:35.012-04:00</updated><title type='text'>What's a Mother To Do?</title><content type='html'>I’m a mother and a teacher, so I’m used to meeting problems head on. I analyze, come up with a plan, and take care of it. Usually, I’m successful. I’ve met my match with the Army. It isn’t often I feel like beating my head against the wall, screaming, and crying all at the same time! There are young men sitting at a remote base who have not been resupplied or received packages from home in over a month. They have no more eating utensils or plates. They are out of laundry detergent and toothpaste. Their food has expired. I guess it’s MRE’s now. I understand the logistics and the danger involved in resupplying a remote base, but, as a mother, it’s driving me nuts because there’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve sent package after package with items TB needs. Not frivolous feel-good items – toothpaste, laundry detergent, body wash, shampoo. Well, okay, I’m sure the Army might consider sheets and a pillow frivolous. All the while they are expected to do their jobs, hike for miles along mountain paths, and focus on the mission. What is it doing to morale? TB is working hard to explain it to his young soldiers who are on their first deployment. When this young man who never, ever complains about anything, who sucks it up no matter what, who actually relishes the challenge of pushing himself to the limit, says to me, “I don’t want to worry you, Mom”, my heart breaks. I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I’m sad. I want to fix it. I’m the Mom. That’s my job.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-9082014970118501214?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/9082014970118501214/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/whats-mother-to-do.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/9082014970118501214'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/9082014970118501214'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/whats-mother-to-do.html' title='What&apos;s a Mother To Do?'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-7905356550205995891</id><published>2010-08-08T21:22:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-08T21:22:45.460-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Emails...At Last</title><content type='html'>I honestly believe that if I didn’t have a cell phone alert set up to notify me when I receive an email from TB, I would never leave the computer. In situations like this you really have to love modern technology! Yesterday I finally heard from TB. Happily, I was home when his email arrived, so I was able to answer right away. I never expected a reply, but sure enough, an hour later he wrote back. We spent the next hour trading emails. He caught me up, as well as he could, on what he’s been doing. I was dismayed to hear that he still hasn’t received the rest of the boxes I sent. Apparently supplies are running low, too. He seemed concerned about the morale of his soldiers. And me? I’m concerned about his morale. Always looking out for others…who’s looking out for him? I’m so thankful there’s a gym for him to use. Working out is a huge stress reliever for him. When he’s down or has a problem to work out, he hits the gym and gets back in the groove. Pushing himself physically is therapeutic for TB. I wish I was more like that, but as far as I’m concerned, sweat and extreme physical exertion are not my idea of mental or emotional therapy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-7905356550205995891?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/7905356550205995891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/emailsat-last.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7905356550205995891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7905356550205995891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/emailsat-last.html' title='Emails...At Last'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6879422481483316104</id><published>2010-08-04T22:32:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-04T22:32:58.046-04:00</updated><title type='text'>I Want....</title><content type='html'>I’m listening to thunder rumble and roll, wave after wave, each one louder than the last. I can imagine guns firing as if a battle is raging all around me, except I’m sitting here safe inside my home. That says a lot about where my thoughts have been today. I’ve been edgy and weepy for no good reason. I knew it would be this way; it’s just very disconcerting when it seems to come out of the blue. I want to wrap TB in bubblewrap so he doesn’t get hurt again if he falls on a narrow, rocky mountain path. I want to design an impenetrable shield that will protect him from flying bullets and incoming mortars. I want him to come home the same way he was when he left – in every way. I want the impossible.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6879422481483316104?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6879422481483316104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-want.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6879422481483316104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6879422481483316104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/i-want.html' title='I Want....'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-1273513765440930394</id><published>2010-08-02T18:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-08-02T18:43:13.793-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Email vs Snail Mail</title><content type='html'>We've passed the Boots on the Ground one month mark. In that time TB has received the first three packages I mailed and one letter. Somewhere out there are six more letters and seven packages! Thank goodness Command lets the guys get on the computer every day! I have no doubt that it’s good for morale. I was prepared in the beginning not to hear from him for weeks at a time. I'm probably a little spoiled now as he sends an email nearly every day. Some of them are just a few words; "not much time...miss talkin to u...love you" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In last night's email I told TB that it's a dilemma because I have a lot I want to tell him and letters take so long. Plus, he often asks how I'm doing or what's new. I never know quite how much to put in an email. He only has a certain amount of time on the computer and of course, he has messages other than my own to read and respond to. He said he's glad we can get quick messages to each other, but it's cool to get letters. I know that's true and would not stop sending snail mail. It's important to have a letter that you can take back to your room and take your time to read whenever you want. I always send a handmade card with a joke and photos along with every letter. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The FOB that TB's mail goes through finally received their mail today. Maybe his base will get theirs soon. I can't help but wonder if all of it will get through at once. Even if each guy only had one box that would be a lot of boxes! I love thinking about all those soldiers finally receiving mail! Wouldn't that be fun to see?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-1273513765440930394?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/1273513765440930394/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/email-vs-snail-mail.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1273513765440930394'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1273513765440930394'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/08/email-vs-snail-mail.html' title='Email vs Snail Mail'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-3170046069154663874</id><published>2010-07-30T22:46:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-30T22:46:50.033-04:00</updated><title type='text'>News</title><content type='html'>I follow several news sources online and receive a variety of Google alerts. When I combine that with information I've received from soldiers over the years I get a clearer understanding of TB's situation. At times I wonder if it's good to be this aware of things. Maybe there's something to the saying, "Ignorance is bliss." I know myself though, and the better informed I am, the better prepared I am. And so this week, after several days of silence, I wasn't blindsided when TB sent an email saying he'd taken a fall while out on a mission. He spent the last few days in bed on pain meds and still isn't at 100%. Today he was waiting to hear if he would be released to go out on the next mission. I know him; he’s tough and determined, so I hope he doesn’t rush it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-3170046069154663874?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/3170046069154663874/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/news.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/3170046069154663874'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/3170046069154663874'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/news.html' title='News'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-8993302492435314839</id><published>2010-07-29T16:51:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T16:51:28.290-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Wasabi</title><content type='html'>I had my first real sushi last summer when TB visited. The restaurant is a favorite of my younger son and his girlfriend. Let me just say TB loves sushi!! They all helped me figure out what to order and TB took special care to tell me about the wasabi. It was a little humorous because he and my son were both very concerned that I would use too much. My son was surprised that I was willing to try sushi at all, much less some of the dishes I sampled. The only thing I did not like was the baby octopus appetizer that TB ordered. It didn't taste bad; it was just rubbery like clams and difficult to chew. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last winter TB took a video of one of his soldiers eating wasabi when they were at a sushi restaurant. Apparently this soldier, who was not familiar with wasabi, thought it was mint. I can see where the color would give that impression. The guys dared him to eat the entire dollop in one bite. They bribed him with money. TB was taping it with his camera. His voice is unmistakably the one egging the soldier on. After the soldier put the wasabi in his mouth he reached for a glass of water. TB laughingly told him he had to swallow it without water. I was so impressed with this kid. He barely flinched! I told him I would send him a care package when he deployed for being such a good sport and for putting up with TB's foolishness. (Of course, he did make some money from it!) TB's reaction was What!!! You're my angel! LOL Since TB changed Companies that soldier is no longer in his squad, but I sent him a care package a few weeks ago. The wasabi incident happened at least six months ago, so I suppose he thought I would forget. He was so appreciative. I'm happy to say that I found someone to give him some extra support during his deployment. I'll have to tell TB about that in my next letter. I think it will make him happy.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-8993302492435314839?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/8993302492435314839/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/wasabi.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8993302492435314839'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8993302492435314839'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/wasabi.html' title='Wasabi'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-7177982775244548629</id><published>2010-07-28T14:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T14:13:22.630-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Adoptions</title><content type='html'>Last winter&amp;nbsp;TB became friends with a SGT who is a lot like him. Since then that SGT and I have become friends as well. I told him about Soldiers' Angels and with his help I've been able to get five of his guys adopted. I feel really good about that. They're all very young and really nice guys. I feel very fortunate to have made so many friends through SA. People I can count on to step up to adopt or to send a needed item like detergent or a card of encouragement. I'm truly blessed to have wonderful people in my life.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-7177982775244548629?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/7177982775244548629/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/adoptions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7177982775244548629'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7177982775244548629'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/adoptions.html' title='Adoptions'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-8104903832335367813</id><published>2010-07-27T20:16:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-29T16:57:19.022-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Care Packages</title><content type='html'>It's been a while since I posted. Life has been a little crazy, but I have been able to take care of TB's requests for specific items and keep up with my Soldiers' Angels activities. For the most part TB has been able to communicate fairly frequently through email.&amp;nbsp;As I mentioned in my last post, he called&amp;nbsp;ten days&amp;nbsp;ago but when I answered the call was dropped. I thought he might call back, but that didn't happen. He was finally able to call again&amp;nbsp;on Saturday and we talked for about 40 minutes. He tells me what he can, which is very little. I was happy to hear that he is now able to workout in the gym. That's a huge stress reliever for him and a way to keep him focused. He complained about not having enough to occupy his mind. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No mail has been delivered since TB received the first three boxes I sent. I've mailed 6 boxes since then and as many letters. I know he would really like to have some of the items, like the small electric fan, anti-bacterial spray, toothpaste, baby wipes and DVDs. I sent all the Pashto language materials he mailed to me before leaving, too. He made multiple copies of many of the pages for his soldiers. All the papers were in a manila folder. I decided to punch holes in the pages and put them in individual 3-prong folders for each soldier. I'm sure that will be more convenient for everyone. All the other papers filled a regular 3 ring binder, so TB has a language notebook now, or he will once the mail is delivered.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-8104903832335367813?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/8104903832335367813/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/care-packages.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8104903832335367813'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8104903832335367813'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/care-packages.html' title='Care Packages'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2975943780572824991</id><published>2010-07-17T17:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-17T18:33:54.925-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Phone Calls</title><content type='html'>One thing I learned when TB was in Iraq was the importance of keeping my cell phone with me at all times. That became apparent last Sunday when I was in NYC. I got up at 3 AM to go to the bathroom, something I don't generally do. Wouldn't you know,&amp;nbsp;the cell&amp;nbsp;rang! A number I didn't recognize. My mother's instinct told me who it was, though, and sure enough, as soon as I said hello I heard that unmistakable mellow voice! I could hardly believe it! We talked for just over 30 minutes. Lots of laughter on both ends during the conversation. TB filled me in on a few things about the conditions of the FOB and some items he could use. No shaving cream or razors, though, he said, as he is growing a beard. I would love to see that. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later that evening I was dismayed to see that he called again while we were out. I found that very surprising. I knew TB would know I was busy sightseeing and not be upset that I didn't answer. At 5 AM Monday morning he called again. During his first call he asked me to post his address on his Facebook page. I was planning to do that when I got home. TB&amp;nbsp;asked me to change it a little, for OPSEC, and just tell people to contact me for the address. It was a nice 12 minute call and then he had to go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again this morning at 3 AM the phone rang. Unfortunately, this time when I answered, there was no&amp;nbsp;voice on the other end. I guess the call was dropped. I waited for a while, hoping he would call back, but no such luck. I know he will, though, when he gets a chance.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2975943780572824991?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2975943780572824991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/phone-calls.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2975943780572824991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2975943780572824991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/phone-calls.html' title='Phone Calls'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-5360574698819077760</id><published>2010-07-16T18:28:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T20:52:27.021-04:00</updated><title type='text'>A Little Vacation</title><content type='html'>I spent a few days in NYC with my oldest son and his wife. It was a great trip! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Sights&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They made sure to show me everything a first-time visitor would want to see - 5th Avenue, Park Avenue, Madison Avenue, Times Square, Union Square, Central Park, Brooklyn Bridge, Lincoln Center, St. Patrick's Cathedral, Cathedral of St John the Divine, Time Warner Building, Grand Central Terminal, Chinatown, SoHo, The Plaza Hotel, Rockefeller Center, and Ground Zero, to name a few. St. Paul's was amazing to see with all the memorabilia of the rescue efforts. We took the Circle Line Ferry and I saw so many other places, including, of course, the Statue of Liberty. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Food&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids live in a quiet little neighborhood in East Harlem. They are a very short walk from the original Patsy's Pizza and a bakery that makes cheesecake for the fanciest NYC restaurants. I sampled both! YUM! The kids are great cooks. The night I arrived we had a chicken and pasta pesto that was as good as any I’ve had at any restaurant. Saturday we went to the Union Square Farmer's Market, something they do often, to get fresh produce, cheeses, and herbs. Later we visited a big flea market in Brooklyn where we had lunch. I sampled a hot dog topped with Asian cole slaw. I was introduced to many wonderful eating experiences. In Chinatown we had Dim Sum and Bubble Tea. I sampled a wide variety of dim sum which was all delicious. Bubble tea is a sweet tea that has tapioca balls in it. It’s a multi-texture drink. The first day we had lunch at a Fig and Olive on 5th Avenue. This restaurant uses olive oils of all types and flavors in almost every dish. I had a refreshing watermelon and cantaloupe gazpacho and a Rosemary Chicken Panini with Mediterranean Fries. I wish I could recall what I had at the delightful little Israeli restaurant we visited one evening. It was good, I know that! We bought delicious red velvet cupcakes at the Magnolia Bakery made famous apparently by Sex and the City. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Museums&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The 9/11 Memorial and Museum was touching and inspirational. We toured that after seeing Ground Zero and before visiting St. Paul's. It was very emotional for me, but I'm happy we went. The American Folk Art Museum was so much fun. I loved reading about the various artists and seeing the wide variety of work. I'm not sure I can even describe the Natural History Museum. I think we were there for about three hours and saw most, but not all, of the first two floors. It's an amazing place. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Circle Line Ferry ride was a lot of fun even if it did rain. We decided to sit on the top deck. I’m glad we did because that’s where the guide was. He was very entertaining and informative. The rain wasn’t really so bad. It was more of a sprinkle and didn’t last for the entire trip. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We also attended a dance performance by a Japanese artist. It was unusual but he was quite good. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m so happy I took this trip and am very grateful to the kids for everything they did for me while I was there.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-5360574698819077760?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/5360574698819077760/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/little-vacation.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5360574698819077760'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5360574698819077760'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/little-vacation.html' title='A Little Vacation'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-8324107598294089636</id><published>2010-07-07T23:31:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-07T23:32:16.592-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Packages</title><content type='html'>As soon as I received an address I had three boxes ready to go. TB requested laundry detergent ASAP. He asked for a few other items when we had our long chat several weeks ago. During that chat he mentioned that he was looking for a place for his guys to do laundry. That was while they were still at a larger base. I don't know if he found one. If not, it's been weeks since they've been able to wash their clothes. I included a variety of foot products in one box. I’m sure he’s walking quite a bit. Another box was filled with his favorite snacks and drink mix with electrolytes. I did make a quick run to the store for some exercise items, just a jump rope and an exercise band. I figure until they get some sort of gym up and running maybe those things will help him workout. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was so proud of myself for having things ready to mail the day after I received the address! Wouldn’t you know, yesterday I was out shopping and my phone alert went off indicating an email from TB. His address changed! Aaaargh! I sure hope those boxes are forwarded to him! Since I was shopping anyway, I picked up a few replacements for the items I knew he needed. I’ll mail that box tomorrow. I ordered some great laundry detergent online from Country Save. I couldn’t believe how quickly they filled the order! It was on the way to TB the same day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;None of this would concern me too much except that he said mail is airlifted in about once a month. I realize that also means they can only drop as much as the helicopter or plane can hold. Of course ammo, food, and other necessary military items will have first priority. All I can do is wait and pray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-8324107598294089636?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/8324107598294089636/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/packages.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8324107598294089636'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8324107598294089636'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/packages.html' title='Packages'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6100467047820983674</id><published>2010-07-04T20:33:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-17T16:56:57.216-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Contact!</title><content type='html'>Finally heard from TB! A great&amp;nbsp;way to celebrate the 4th! He has no cell reception and no internet, but they have runnning water, working toilets, and the food is good! There's no gym, so that's kind of a bummer for him. That's one thing he's been counting on. He said they're gong to work on it, though. I'm sure they will, if he has anything&amp;nbsp;to do with it.&amp;nbsp;Working out is&amp;nbsp;a top priority for him. It was so good to get a message from him, even if he did say it might be weeks or months before I hear from him again.&amp;nbsp;He seems to be in good spirits and that means the world to me!&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6100467047820983674?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6100467047820983674/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/contact.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6100467047820983674'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6100467047820983674'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/contact.html' title='Contact!'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-1458836104772637907</id><published>2010-07-02T21:40:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-02T21:40:14.354-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Feeling at a Loss</title><content type='html'>It's been&amp;nbsp;two weeks of limbo and feeling disconnected. I've been trying to put my finger on why I haven't hit my normal summer stride. Summer is a time for me to catch up on making cards for the Troops, do some heavy housecleaning and organizing, and read&amp;nbsp;a few books that I don't have time for during the school year. I think I've dealt with TB deploying, so why do I wander from one task to another, unable to concentrate or really accomplish anything? I've been thinking about this a lot and finally realized it's part of that "Mom thing". I've spent the greater part of the past two years taking care of him, so to speak. Helping him when he had car problems, girl problems, travel problems. Now here I sit, helpless, unable to do anything, because&amp;nbsp;I don't have an address yet. Once I have that address, I'll hit my stride...Mom in Motion...watch out!! ;)&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-1458836104772637907?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/1458836104772637907/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/feeling-at-loss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1458836104772637907'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1458836104772637907'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/feeling-at-loss.html' title='Feeling at a Loss'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-4781368415186637030</id><published>2010-07-01T15:09:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-01T15:09:31.766-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mixed Emotions</title><content type='html'>Once again I'm confronted with the interesting way life works. Two wonderful soldiers who call me Mom were in the same place a few days ago. They tried to locate each other but never were able to connect.&amp;nbsp;They have never met, only heard about each other through me. TB's brigade is replacing EM's and so,&amp;nbsp;each was&amp;nbsp;experienceing a major transition in his life. While TB was headed for Afghanistan, EM was redeploying. And there I was, caught in the middle; thrilled for EM and his family, anxious for TB and what lies ahead. When EM reached the airport in Maryland he called to let me know his feet were on American soil. A few more hours and one more flight&amp;nbsp;and he would be home.&amp;nbsp;Meanwhile, TB was leaving his transition area, moving into Afghanistan. Nervous and excited, sad and happy, relieved and anxious....one home safe, one headed for danger.&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-4781368415186637030?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/4781368415186637030/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/mixed-emotions.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4781368415186637030'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4781368415186637030'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/07/mixed-emotions.html' title='Mixed Emotions'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6485423656118350557</id><published>2010-06-30T20:27:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-30T20:28:09.540-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Communication Frustration</title><content type='html'>Sunday, Monday, and&amp;nbsp;Tuesday were frustrating.&amp;nbsp;No word from TB. That's to be expected. The frustrating part was&amp;nbsp;Monday one of his friends mentioned receiving a text message from TB with his Afghani cell phone number. Yesterday that person received a phone call and another friend received a text message. Both are in Germany. The second person happened to be chatting with me and mentioned to TB that I had not heard from him. He responded that he had sent me two text messages. The idea that perhaps he would be in a place for the next year where his main means of communication with the outside world might be phone texts that I can’t receive made me very sad. On the other hand it was good to know he had tried.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then wouldn’t you know, my mother’s intuition whacked me in the head in the middle of the night and I felt I needed to get online. The instant I signed into Yahoo Messenger, TB signed in, too. He immediately let me know that over the past several days he tried to send 3 text messages. He said phone calls would not go through to the States. I don’t know why it will work to Germany and not to the U.S. I told him that I know some soldiers who have used their Afghani cell phones to call home. TB said maybe he needed a different sim card. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He was able to stay online for two hours. It was sooo good to chat! He is in good spirits even though they are not at their final destination yet and do not know when they will be. Having that time to catch up put me in much better spirits, also.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6485423656118350557?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6485423656118350557/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/communication-frustration.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6485423656118350557'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6485423656118350557'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/communication-frustration.html' title='Communication Frustration'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-8229110799629788786</id><published>2010-06-28T22:26:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-29T16:07:26.827-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Box</title><content type='html'>Another box arrived from TB. I feel badly for our postal carrier. The box weighed over 31 pounds! It has things he wants me to send later - 9 books, his winter jackets, some spare clothing, and a few other items. I'm sure he will let me know when he wants each thing. At this point it doesn't matter since&amp;nbsp;I still don't have an address! That too will come in time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-8229110799629788786?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/8229110799629788786/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/another-box.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8229110799629788786'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8229110799629788786'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/another-box.html' title='Another Box'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-5414546450302821036</id><published>2010-06-27T19:42:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-28T14:45:23.114-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Silence</title><content type='html'>Today has been one of silence. I'm not sure exactly what that means.&amp;nbsp;I can speculate, but even that leads to several scenarios, and so, I wait.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I last wrote on Thursday and mentioned we'd had a short chat. Later we talked for much longer. We also had a chance to chat on Friday and Saturday. By Saturday TB was bored and ready to move on and get things going.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-5414546450302821036?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/5414546450302821036/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/silence.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5414546450302821036'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5414546450302821036'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/silence.html' title='Silence'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6914659065793610698</id><published>2010-06-24T12:21:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-27T19:10:52.855-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Partway There</title><content type='html'>TB is temporarily&amp;nbsp;in a different place&amp;nbsp;attending briefings, waiting for the rest of the platoon to catch up. We had a short chat yesterday and an even shorter one today. Perhaps he will be back online later. He was able to use his own laptop at the MWR. After a while he&amp;nbsp;got offline so one of his soldiers could use&amp;nbsp;the laptop.&amp;nbsp;The MWR was crowded and apparently the line to use the public computers was very long.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6914659065793610698?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6914659065793610698/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/boots-on-ground.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6914659065793610698'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6914659065793610698'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/boots-on-ground.html' title='Partway There'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2704607868877097471</id><published>2010-06-22T21:21:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T21:21:03.882-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Dogtags</title><content type='html'>A 2 1/2 minute call. I hung up the phone and picked up the dogtags. Wearing them will be a part of what I do every day for the next year. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As&amp;nbsp;I went about my daily activities&amp;nbsp;I realized how much they jingle. I stopped by Commando Supply while I was out and bought silencers. They had two sets, so&amp;nbsp;I got the other set for TB. They only cost $2.50, so it's not a big loss if he already has some. While I was in Commando Supply I took a picture of&amp;nbsp; Mini-B. I think&amp;nbsp;TB will like that. We went in there last summer. He was wearing his Class A's and we were on our way to see my dad and then to dinner and a movie.&amp;nbsp;TB couldn't find his belt buckle so we stopped in Commando Supply to get one. After a nice visit with my dad we went to Red Lobster. I think we went to Red Lobster three times while TB was here. He loves their biscuits and crab cakes. The fondue appetizer was excellent, too. Afterwards we saw &lt;em&gt;Public Enemies&lt;/em&gt;. It was pretty good.&amp;nbsp;I remember asking TB if fire really shoots out of the front of guns the way it did in the movie. Going to the movies with TB is fun because afterwards he likes to talk about it in depth.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here we are a year later. TB is off to Afghanistan and I've got my "game face on" as he likes to say.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2704607868877097471?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2704607868877097471/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/dogtags.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2704607868877097471'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2704607868877097471'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/dogtags.html' title='Dogtags'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-8000082948334039211</id><published>2010-06-21T21:56:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-22T20:42:25.920-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Phone Call</title><content type='html'>Exactly a year ago today TB arrived here for his two week visit. We have so many good memories from that time.&amp;nbsp;That was when I realized just how intelligent and introspective he is. I learned a great deal about his life, which has been unbelievably different from mine, his thoughts on politics, the economy, religion, marriage, being a soldier. Generally, he tends to be a quiet man, but during those two weeks he really opened up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yesterday I received the "good bye" call. It isn't quite time, but yesterday was the best day for it. We talked for two hours about so many things and must have been on Yahoo Messenger for at least that long. TB shared some thoughts about his future, what he will do when he returns. I asked if he had any special instructions for me. He said he didn’t because when he was in Iraq it seemed like he would be thinking about something he would like to have and a package would arrive from me with just what he wanted. I'd forgotten about that, but obviously he hasn't. He also said he was going to send phone numbers of people for me to call if anything happens to him. We talked about that some. I reprimanded him for saying “if" he comes back. He said he was being realistic not fatalistic; there is only so much he can do. It's like when he was in Iraq and they were hit. He had been sleeping in the back of the vehicle and got up to take a picture. That's when it happened and if he hadn't moved, he would have been dead. As it was, he was injured. They lost a good man that day, TB's best friend. It's hard when your Alive Day is the day you lost your best friend. But, I see his point. A lot of it is fate and you can only do so much. All I can do is support him and pray.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-8000082948334039211?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/8000082948334039211/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/phone-call.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8000082948334039211'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/8000082948334039211'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/phone-call.html' title='Phone Call'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-5995144223199429845</id><published>2010-06-20T11:23:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T11:25:15.344-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Flag</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TB4xG6b2gII/AAAAAAAAACY/2JBXQAKWils/s1600/2010+011.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" qu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TB4xG6b2gII/AAAAAAAAACY/2JBXQAKWils/s200/2010+011.jpg" width="190" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I told TB that I would fly his reenlistment flag every day while he's gone. I put it out yesterday so I could take a picture for him. When he leaves it will become my permanent flag. I'll add a new yellow ribbon to the base of the pole for him, too. His dogtags are ready for me to put on. I'll wear them until he comes home.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-5995144223199429845?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/5995144223199429845/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/flag.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5995144223199429845'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/5995144223199429845'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/flag.html' title='The Flag'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TB4xG6b2gII/AAAAAAAAACY/2JBXQAKWils/s72-c/2010+011.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6826514946667249148</id><published>2010-06-19T19:43:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-20T11:25:50.634-04:00</updated><title type='text'>The Box</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TB1Z-k9Yp7I/AAAAAAAAACQ/X5bGn6ToIWM/s1600/2010+017.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="150" qu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TB1Z-k9Yp7I/AAAAAAAAACQ/X5bGn6ToIWM/s200/2010+017.jpg" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week or so ago TB said he was sending a box. There were some important papers that he wanted me to keep. He said the box was heavy and I would need help carrying it to the car. I thought that was odd. He remembered that last fall I mentioned seeing bags online that were made from old uniforms. I thought that would be such a cool thing to have. Frankly, I had forgotten all about it. The box had some old uniforms for me. When the box arrived no one was home so our postal carrier left a note saying it could be picked up the next day at the post office. I told TB and he reminded me again that the box was heavy. I thought it was so sweet that he was concerned about that. He was right; the box was big...and heavy! Inside were 6 old BDU shirts and pants, a hat, the documents, photographs, a baseball signed by his squad when they were in Iraq, two military bags, and his reenlistment flag. He wants me to keep the documents safe, of course, but everything else is for me. One bag will be great for traveling. I'm especially touched about the flag. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I originally saw the uniform bags online, I mentioned them to a friend at school. She is an excellent seamstress and offered to make one for me if TB ever sent a uniform. When I told her about the box, she immediately offered to try her hand at making a bag. I'm excited about that. We even discussed using one of the pants legs to make a bag to hold Mini-B.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6826514946667249148?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6826514946667249148/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/box.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6826514946667249148'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6826514946667249148'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/box.html' title='The Box'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TB1Z-k9Yp7I/AAAAAAAAACQ/X5bGn6ToIWM/s72-c/2010+017.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-4561774098426699635</id><published>2010-06-18T19:35:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-18T19:35:21.415-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Busy Week</title><content type='html'>School ended last week, but this week was still busy. There is always a lot that teachers need to do after the school year is over. This year we had two longtime, beloved teachers retire. It's not really good-bye as I know I will be seeing them, but it's still difficult. Wednesday evening we had a wonderful Aloha party at a staff member's home. Everyone brought a dish to share and the food and camaraderie were memorable. Last night two other friends and I went out to eat with my Bestie (as the kids say). It was a lot of fun and something I hope we will do often. She's been  my rock when I thought my world was going to fall apart and it will be hard not to have her a few steps away. But I know she is just a phone call away and a short drive from school. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB was very busy with last minute details, packing, and getting his mind set on what lies ahead. He's a little concerned that I am going to fall apart when he makes that last phone call. He's stuck to chatting online and text messages the past few days. To his credit, though, he has made a point of keeping me informed as much as he can. I'll be all right when he calls. I know how important it is to him.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On another note, today I received a phone call from the first soldier I adopted through Soldiers' Angels in 2006. It was quite a surprise! He thought I might not recognize his voice. That's pretty funny considering how often we've talked. I even met him and his family a few years ago when he was at Ft. Jackson for a class. I guess he just knew I wouldn't be expecting a call from him in Afghanistan. Since TB's Brigade is their replacement, he will be home soon, so I can expect another call from Maine. He's going to keep an eye out for TB. It would be wonderful if they could meet - my two special soldiers who call me Mom.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-4561774098426699635?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/4561774098426699635/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/busy-week.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4561774098426699635'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/4561774098426699635'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/busy-week.html' title='Busy Week'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2780850503126576242</id><published>2010-06-12T21:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-12T21:05:20.303-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Mini-B</title><content type='html'>About a month ago TB ordered a Daddy Doll for his little girl. He was pretty excited about it and I could tell he was hoping I would get one, too. It seemed like a fun thing to do, so I ordered a double-sided doll. One side has a photo of TB in ACU's, the same one he used for his daughter. The other side has a picture in civilian clothes that I really like. I'm going to have a lot of fun taking pictures and sending them to TB during his deployment. Luckily Mini-B arrived a few days before school let out for the summer. I took it to school and my class loved it. Now I have some fun pictures on the playground, in the classroom, and during our end-of-year Water Day activities. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;https://www.hugahero.com/store/hugahero-dolls&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2780850503126576242?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2780850503126576242/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/mini-b.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2780850503126576242'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2780850503126576242'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/mini-b.html' title='Mini-B'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2264001605565886390</id><published>2010-06-06T07:05:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-06T07:05:54.254-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Emotions</title><content type='html'>I wasn't expecting this - the emotions, the knot in the pit of my stomach, the lump in my throat, the tears that come too easily over nothing. No matter how well prepared you are, when it comes down to the wire, the emotions bubble to the top and spill out. I know I'll be fine once deployment begins. I'll have a mission, a purpose. I'll deal with these emotions and TB will never know.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2264001605565886390?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2264001605565886390/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/emotions.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2264001605565886390'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2264001605565886390'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/emotions.html' title='Emotions'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-6729352003762491098</id><published>2010-06-03T13:13:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-03T13:13:20.990-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Surprise Package</title><content type='html'>Block Leave is over and everyone is busy with last minute preps. TB was surprised to find a package from me when he went to the post office on Tuesday. When he was in Iraq I learned that he loves oatmeal raisin cookies and banana bread. About a week before Block Leave the topic came up and I decided then to make some as a surprise. I wasn't sure the timing would be right, but apparently it was. I'm thrilled about that. He was so surprised and happy! I feel as if I've been able to do something for him during this time of intense last minute preparations. In doing that, I may have been the one who benefitted the most.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-6729352003762491098?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/6729352003762491098/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/surprise-package.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6729352003762491098'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/6729352003762491098'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/surprise-package.html' title='Surprise Package'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-3320891476753902822</id><published>2010-06-01T19:04:00.001-04:00</published><updated>2010-06-01T19:04:51.225-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Support</title><content type='html'>Yesterday I spent a little time reading the Facebook pages of a few groups I follow. One of them provides information related to TB's Brigade. I noticed a post by another mother about an email group she was starting for parents and friends of soldiers about to deploy. I emailed her right away. I'm excited to be a part of this group. I have wonderful support - friends here at home and friends I've met online - and I know I won't be lacking for support. I'm happy, though, to find other parents who will be experiencing the same emotions I expect to face. Hopefully, I will be able to add something to the group.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-3320891476753902822?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/3320891476753902822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/support.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/3320891476753902822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/3320891476753902822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/06/support.html' title='Support'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-625257660763292866</id><published>2010-05-28T21:53:00.000-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T07:57:14.862-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Leadership</title><content type='html'>My oldest son and his wife are leaving for Arizona tomorrow morning for a canyoneering/camping vacation. They plan to run in the NYC Half-Marathon (13.1 miles) in March 2011. Registration opens next week, so he asked me to register them.  I’m really proud of them for doing this. I can't imagine myself running 1/4 of a mile, much less 13!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;TB likes to lift weights and work out. He hasn’t kept up with it as much as he would like, so he plans to focus on it more while he’s deployed. Thinking about all this running and working out reminded me of what TB was doing exactly a year ago. He was in an EIB (Expert Infantry Badge) class. I always try to find out as much as I can about what he’s involved in, so when he told me he would be doing that, I researched it. From what I read and from what people told me, I learned it's a very difficult class! TB came so close, but didn’t quite make it. The foot march was the last thing they had to do. Even though he was out, he did the march anyway, so he could encourage four of his buddies. If I recall correctly, a foot march is 12 miles with a 35 pound ruck. I think you have to finish under 3 hours. He felt he could help the guys by setting the pace. He’s a “foot march monster” and once he’s in the zone there’s no stopping him. I wish I could remember his time. I know it was under 3 hours. Doing that for those guys was a real sign of leadership. He didn’t have to do it, but he knew it was one of his strengths and even though he was out, he did what he could to help the others succeed. Later he told me that when he’s doing something hard like that, he thinks about me and how he doesn’t want to let me down or disappoint me, even when it’s something I don’t even know he’s doing. That was a year ago and I hope it still holds true. I want him to be focused and strong, mentally, physically, and emotionally, throughout his deployment.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-625257660763292866?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/625257660763292866/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/leadership.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/625257660763292866'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/625257660763292866'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/leadership.html' title='Leadership'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-1676772354406779052</id><published>2010-05-25T15:40:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2011-02-05T11:32:20.164-05:00</updated><title type='text'>Good Timing?</title><content type='html'>I was about to leave for work this morning when I received a text message from TB. He said to turn on Knocking Live because he was at Europa Park. I spent about 15 minutes watching as he walked around showing me various sights. After ending the video he said he would knock again when he was going on a ride. Just as I completed the 30 minute drive to school, I heard "knock knock knock". True to his word, I was able to go along on a ride. It's the only way I would be going on one of those things, that's for sure! I'm glad I wasn't driving either time, so I could see the things he wanted to share with me. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I remember when he was in Iraq, he would wake up in the middle of the night and get online. There were so many times when just a few seconds after that, I would log on. We rarely chatted for long, although at times he had difficulty sleeping and needed to talk. He was always amazed that I would appear at those times as if I knew he was there. There's no explanation, it just happened. Good timing, I guess ... or something else?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-1676772354406779052?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/1676772354406779052/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/good-timing.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1676772354406779052'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/1676772354406779052'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/good-timing.html' title='Good Timing?'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-7279030606824065942</id><published>2010-05-24T19:13:00.004-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T07:57:14.863-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Tuna and Drink Mix and Snacks, Oh My</title><content type='html'>The last Wednesday evening of the month is Family Meal night at church. This Wednesday is our final one until September. Ham is being provided and we will all contribute other dishes. I rarely eat ham. I can't actually recall when the last time was that I had ham. However, we have great cooks at my church and the camaraderie is even better. I stopped by the store on my way home from school this afternoon to pick up the few items I'll need for the dessert I'm planning to take. Four items, that's it. It never works out that way. I'm always on the look-out for things on sale that I can send to soldiers and for TB's favorites. As usual, I came home with several full bags. For several months now I've been stockpiling items I know TB likes and things I know he will need. These boxes are filled with items for him. The copy paper box holds 20 reams of paper, so that gives some perspective on the size of the boxes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TAI9gxeuHqI/AAAAAAAAACI/pXil8RUqe4w/s1600/supplies.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" gu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TAI9gxeuHqI/AAAAAAAAACI/pXil8RUqe4w/s320/supplies.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-7279030606824065942?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/7279030606824065942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/tuna-and-drink-mix-and-snacks-oh-my.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7279030606824065942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/7279030606824065942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/tuna-and-drink-mix-and-snacks-oh-my.html' title='Tuna and Drink Mix and Snacks, Oh My'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/TAI9gxeuHqI/AAAAAAAAACI/pXil8RUqe4w/s72-c/supplies.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-2165611412726107497</id><published>2010-05-23T15:47:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T07:57:14.863-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Modern Technology</title><content type='html'>TB is on leave. Last week I found myself waking up in the wee hours of the morning - 3:30 or 4:00ish - so that&amp;nbsp;I&amp;nbsp;might catch him online. He can only be on for a short time and my luck was pretty good for about half the days. He learned about the Knocking Live app from a friend and told me about it last weekend. It allows you to share streaming live videos phone to phone. I recently acquired a Droid, so&amp;nbsp;I was happy to see that it is one of the free apps for my phone. I'm not sure why, but&amp;nbsp;I usually have to stop and restart the app before I can get his "knocks", which is what you hear when someone wants to share a video with you. It sounds just like someone knocking on the door. I'm thankful that he is always willing to try 2 or 3 times until it comes through. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This morning I was able to see him drive a motorboat on a beautiful lake. Later I watched as he walked around a zoo. It was fun to be able to see what he saw and experience a little of his leave right alongside him. I'm thankful there are so many ways to keep in touch with loved ones who are far away.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-2165611412726107497?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/2165611412726107497/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/modern-technology.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2165611412726107497'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/2165611412726107497'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/modern-technology.html' title='Modern Technology'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-14626098586211037</id><published>2010-05-22T21:01:00.002-04:00</published><updated>2010-05-30T07:57:14.864-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Training</title><content type='html'>When I first decided to write this blog my plan was to start writing on the day TB begins his deployment. It crossed my mind that those who love a Soldier have to prepare for deployment as well. At least that's the way it is for me. I can be&amp;nbsp;a great Scarlett O'Hara&amp;nbsp;-"I'll think about that tomorrow." I could put it out of my mind and let it come, sneaking up on me with little cat feet. However, knowing myself as I do, I believe those little cat feet would turn into ferocious tiger paws and knock me for a loop. And so I prepare, train, if you will, in little ways. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Several weeks ago I sent TB some prescription sunshades. In a way it was a goodbye package, so I included a few&amp;nbsp;other items . . . a sandscarf, anti-fog lens cleaners, insect repellant, anti-itch cream, a phone card, self-addressed envelopes, writing paper . . . small things that can easily be tucked in the bag. I couldn't resist sending a small teddy bear that I had sewn wings onto. And a letter....words of encouragement, pride, and love... for those&amp;nbsp;times when he needs a little boost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Morale plays a vital role in a soldier's ability to focus and to carry out assignments effectively. As a member of Soldiers' Angels I've made many wonderful friends. I've been talking to my "angel" friends about adopting some of TB's soldiers and helping provide encouragement and support for his squad and a friend's squad. They depend on each other and the more supported each member of the squad feels the better they will all be able to do their jobs and keep each other safe.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-14626098586211037?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/14626098586211037/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/training_22.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/14626098586211037'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/14626098586211037'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/training_22.html' title='Training'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8698822287819026672.post-640105749200423403</id><published>2010-05-21T19:01:00.003-04:00</published><updated>2010-07-16T09:20:56.191-04:00</updated><title type='text'>Who We Are</title><content type='html'>I'm a wife and mother with two grown sons, a teacher, and a member of Soldiers' Angels. He (TB) is a father, a soldier, a man with numerous interests and talents, preparing to deploy to Afghanistan.&amp;nbsp;Our&amp;nbsp;paths crossed when TB was deployed to Iraq.&amp;nbsp;I sent a letter and he responded with an email. As time passed and I discovered that he was not receiving support from an "angel" I adopted him. Over time we formed a bond that grew into the wonderful mother/son relationship it is today. When I take time to think about it, I'm amazed, because we couldn't be more different in almost every way.&amp;nbsp;At the same time,&amp;nbsp;we&amp;nbsp;have common interests and we often see things through the same eyes.&amp;nbsp;This path&amp;nbsp;we've walked together has not always been smooth.&amp;nbsp;Due to&amp;nbsp;our different life experiences&amp;nbsp;there have been rocks, even boulders, a few ruts, and a deep ditch or two. In the long-run every stumbling block served to make our relationship stronger.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been told by a few people that I cannot really know what it's like to send a son&amp;nbsp;into harm's way, afterall, I've only known TB for a few years. When I mentioned that to him, his response was that no one questions the love a stepparent has for a stepchild. Our situation is similar. True, I did not give birth to him or raise him, but&amp;nbsp;that does not negate our mother/son bond.&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/8698822287819026672-640105749200423403?l=daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/feeds/640105749200423403/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/who-we-are.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/640105749200423403'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/8698822287819026672/posts/default/640105749200423403'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://daybydayarmymom.blogspot.com/2010/05/who-we-are.html' title='Who We Are'/><author><name>Mom Bets</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/02115427995050018736</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='30' height='32' src='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_kHsLy7upxbg/S-51_Vr3ZJI/AAAAAAAAAAM/M1m4TJhzk_E/S220/tags.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry></feed>
