Normandy

Normandy is beautiful countryside.

Our trip was amazing.

It's strange saying that, given the nature of what we went there to see.

It's almost impossible to imagine what went on there 71 years ago. But we tried. Just to be there is completely humbling.

I don't remember feeling much of anything when I learned about D-Day and World War II in school. In fact, I don't really even remember when I learned about it, what grade I was in or any of the details. As we walked from site to site and museum to museum, reading story after story of what really went on, I thought how terrible it is that I didn't feel emotional about anything that happened until I was standing right on the Normandy landing sites at age 30.

As I got older and saw my brother going through ROTC and what he was preparing to do in the wake of 9/11, I developed a deeper appreciation for our military and eventually my own desire to serve my country. But as we walked through the Normandy American Cemetery the morning before we drove back to Calais, after 2 days of absorbing what D-Day REALLY meant for the U.S., Europe and really the world, I listened to a French tour guide explain to a group of young American kids the importance of what the U.S. military fought for and defended during that time, that the freedoms and values we have today were protected by them and why we must always remember what they did, and tears rolled down my face. It was powerful. This French woman had such a deep appreciation for that day and that War and our country. And I felt like I had never appreciated any of it nearly as much, until I was standing in the middle of the American Cemetery.

Normandy American Cemetery. There are 9.400 graves there, out of 407,000 U.S. military who died during WW2.

That might sound strange. I'm patriotic. I was in the military. I miss serving my country. My husband is in the military. I completely support the military and appreciate all that they do. There are so many ways to support the military, whether it is monetarily, through volunteer groups, serving yourself or being that supportive spouse, family member or friend. But I realized for me that is the *easy* part. All the brave ones who are gone...it's those who we must make ourselves remember and think about. Of course we don't forget about those who we knew personally or are connected to in some way, but every life lost is so very important and I know I do not think about that often enough. After this trip, that became clear to me. I felt everything very deeply that weekend.   

Every soldier who gave their life deserves our remembrance on a more individual level. Every unknown and missing solider has a name and loved ones without closure and they deserve our remembrance on a more individual level, not only as a collective group we call POW/MIA. 

The blood that was shed for liberation is absolutely astounding.

The steps we walked from Omaha Beach up to the Cemetery

Can you imagine this beautiful water as the 'Bloody Omaha?' It's so incredibly sad. But don't we owe it to our men to remember when it wasn't so beautiful?

We had lovely French hosts at a home on Omaha Beach. Emmanuel served us a fresh, delicious breakfast at whatever time we chose both mornings. He talked with us and helped us make the most of our time, gave us a book of information to reference and treated us like friends when he made us a reservation at the nice local restaurant down the street. We went back there for dinner the second night and I think the staff were pleased we enjoyed Normandy and dining with them so much, giving us some Calvados on the house :) Everyone we met was so friendly.

Here are my trip pictures on Flickr. I wanted to capture everywhere we went, and even some of what I read. So sometimes there are pictures with a lot of words that you would have to zoom in to read, but you might find some of it interesting. Even all the information on landing vehicles, trucks and tanks starts painting a picture of just how massive the operation was. 

This trip was one of my favorites ever, and I know that it probably always will be. It made an impact on me that I will be forever grateful for. 

Tales of Moldy Bread & a SAHW

Walking into the living room this morning holding a large container of peanut butter, my husband asks "Hey Breanne, all of the bread is moldy so do you mind if I just take this peanut butter to work and I will buy a loaf of bread before my flight.....?"

No. Not at all. I do not mind. Take all of the peanut butter.

Responds the worst wife ever.

My heart is clearly not in being solely responsible for the grocery shopping or providing for my hard-working husband. While I always strive to be better at this (and seriously I'm always at the grocery store), I am not into meal planning and sometimes I feel like I'm living like a college student who eats whatever is laying around. Ok maybe a healthier student....an apple here, a piece of cheese there, wine always. Or someone who doesn't have time because they work all day.

But I don't. I don't do that anymore. That is not my life. I *do* miss it.

And I fill my days with plenty of things, but meal planning like a grown-up is not one of them. I should be at the grocery store, getting everything we need. I feel guilty not being perfect at this. How have I not perfected this yet?!

It's amazing how much guilt I can feel for not being a perfect homemaker now that.....that is one of my primary duties.

But I liked it better when I had a different purpose and we could share responsibility for moldy bread.

Dave is the breadwinner. Should he not be responsible for the bread?!

Ok bad joke.

I know that I, and only I, can change the course of my life's work. It is up to me to gather the strength, take the risk, take a leap of faith and acknowledge (what I think is) the passion that has been screaming at me and making me perform so terribly as grocery shopper, among other things. I've been ignoring it for so long ("it"....the "passion" = coaching)

The moldy bread is just a reminder of how long. Sorry, Dave! I love you and am always grateful for the life you've given us and your willingness to eat *whatever* is available for lunch.

Respect Each Other: Think Before You Post

I use social media quite a bit. I am not perfect, and I'm sure I have occasionally posted a photo or two that would be best left off the internet.

But when it comes to speculation about fatalities in our military community- absolutely not.

This week, one of our KC-135s had an in-flight emergency and "disappeared" off the radar over the English Channel in the middle of the night. Somehow, this information very quickly made it to the media. This was the first problem. Why in the world....

The second problem is that the "news" was very quickly published in the Daily Mail and probably other outlets without verification with our leadership or Public Affairs office. If they had tried that first, there would not have been an article. This is really unbelievable. The media is out of control. I see this as blatant disrespect for our military & our military families. But it's no news that the media just sucks these days. 

The third problem, and the one we can control individually as spouses and therefore in our military community, is that the article seemed to spread like wild fire. Once it is in print, this will undoubtedly happen to a certain point. But don't be a part of the problem by posting it on Facebook or wherever else.

Now, spouses lay awake at night worrying....is that one of ours? My husband is flying tonight but I'm not sure where. My husband isn't flying but my best friend's husband is on that flight...did something really happen? What is going on?

All for nothing.

Please contact your leadership before you re-post or share that vague article. 

There was an in-flight emergency. It was dealt with appropriately by the aircrew and they landed very shortly after their scheduled time.

The emotional cost of trying to keep your friends "informed" about what "might" have happened to their spouse or a spouse of one of their friends by sharing poorly written, speculative news articles on Facebook is too high, and it only makes you feel better. Not the person who will worry the most about their loved one. 

I can honestly say I don't worry about my husband when he flies. I don't say that to sound like a self-righteous jerk, but it's true. He has done all he can do to be the best pilot he can be. But if something were to happen, I do not need to know about it until someone shows up at my door- the people I have designated, or at least expect, to inform me should this happen. This is my right. I deserve it. Do not take this away from me. Or anyone.

I can't drive this point home better than this story does. I read it shortly after it was written a couple years ago and a friend just re-posted it this week after this most recent (unnecessary) scare in our community. Please read it and take it to heart.

http://keepcalmandhaveacosmo.blogspot.co.uk/2014/03/racing-facebook-new-challenge-for.html

If something happens to my husband and I find out on Facebook, I will certainly not be giving you a badge for being the one who informed me of the news first. I will be emotionally exhausted from probably worrying & being in denial for hours before that knock at my door. And then I would be mourning for a very long time. And if absolutely nothing happened to my husband but I knew he was the one flying over the English Channel that night, I would be distraught for no reason. So save me the extra hours of pain and save your energy and don't share that article with me. Don't share it with anyone. Respect each other.

Anne Frank House

After searching for tickets a couple weeks before our trip and finding that there were 'No tickets available' to the Anne Frank House for the rest of April, but also after learning that more tickets regularly become available for the 'day of' or next couple days, I knew I might eventually find myself in a situation where I was frantically and/or obsessively reloading the ticket page to find tickets.

Yes, that day came when we were on the ferry from Harwich to the Hook of Holland. The wifi was just existent enough for me to see that more tickets became available for that day and the next 2 days, but so unbelievably slow that I was never able to purchase tickets. After 7 hours of trying, I almost gave up on the idea of getting them at all and decided I would just have to come back to Amsterdam.

It was really important to me to see this historical location.

2 days later, I was able to purchase 2 tickets for that evening from my phone while we were walking around Amsterdam. I was so relieved. I don't know....how can you enjoy all of Amsterdam without stopping to honor the horrific experience and incredible spirit of Anne Frank?

During what felt like a solid day of agony trying to get the tickets, I sort of stopped to think why this was so important to me. Memories of my childhood came flooding back.....to when I learned about Anne Frank, and built a model house with all the furniture for school. I don't know what grade it was; so many of the unimportant details are fuzzy. But some of the emotions I felt learning about her incredible experience definitely stuck with me. I have to say as an adult who has witnessed even more evil in the world since, her experience was no less tragic to think about or relive as I walked through the house. To be walking through the secret annex where they hid from evil for so many years was just so powerful.

My heart sank. Some tears fell. This was one of the quotes in the first room we walked through.

 "The time will come when we'll be people again....."

Incredible. Incredible that the Jews were in the situation that they were; that she recognized the injustice at her age, and that she believed in a better way of life & was brave enough to write about it. Writing can be so powerful, for the reader and, I would argue, even more so for the writer. As I went through the museum and learned about the role that writing played in her life, I could really relate.

Her father, after reading her diary (after her death)- 
"....and my conclusion is, as I had been in very very good terms with Anna, is that most parents don't know really, their children."

My heart broke for Anne and her father when I heard this. You can spill on to paper what you just can't put into words for even those closest people in your life. I know this.  

During the darkest times, she shared her deepest and darkest feelings in her diary, that she planned on eventually turning into a book. Writing kept her from going crazy, when all she wanted to do was sing and dance and enjoy the outdoors.  

The tulips are beautiful. The canals are gorgeous. The cheese is delicious. The trip was amazing. But Anne Frank really kept things in perspective.

Sometimes I feel like I'm participating in one big 3-year travel competition while living here. It's easy to start feeling like you "aren't doing enough" compared to others, because everyone's travels are always in your face, quite frankly. While we love to travel and would like to see as much as possible, I try to always be mindful of how fortunate we are to get to do the things we do and see the places we see. There will always be more. 'More' is not a good measuring stick.

Going through the Anne Frank House is just one of those experiences that makes you truly appreciate freedom & all of the joy we get to experience every day, no matter where we live or how much or little we travel. Just getting tickets for the experience made me feel more at ease for the rest of the trip and made me stop worrying about what we were going to see and do, because what could be more significant? I felt so fortunate just to be there.

Anne Frank, your spirit certainly lives on. You are amazing!

Altnernative modes of transportation

My cousin Jen sent this to me with perfect timing today. I thought I would post it as a follow-up to my broken car night catastrophe post.

My car is still pretty much broke. For all intents and purposes.

You know, that doesn't sound that bad. First world problem, correct? It doesn't explain me drowning myself in wine.

The thing is....the broken car was just the icing.

On the shit cake.

But this icing/breakdown...it has forced me to find alternate modes of...dealing with things. It has forced me to be vulnerable with pretty new but amazing friends. People who could think I'm crazy but have been nothing but kind and generous. It has forced me to lean on people when I've always thought I could get through everything on my own. It has forced me to ask for help.....*gasp*

It has forced me to take a leap of faith and believe a little. 

A Raw Post by a Military Spouse Expat

I cried on and off for several hours tonight.

Everything came to a boiling point today when my beater of a car finally said "Times up, SUCKER. I'm out. Deal with your issues." Or at least that is what has come of the situation. Husband gone/deployed/whatever/not here and complicated car issues. Apparently that was enough to just set me off. I've been stressed about all kinds of things, and frankly, a little bit lonely. And then the seventh thing went wrong with my car and that was it. It is not drivable. I'm just overwhelmed. Just one of those times when it feels like things are crumbling. And now it's me with my tears and a bottle or two of wine. Because this shit always just happens at the perfect time. I hate, hate asking for help or realizing I can't get through everything on my own.  

Don't worry. What my body is losing in tears, it's gaining in wine. This has to be a start to recovery. 

But really, tears are powerful. When you sob and let it all go, you just start to feel better and think more clearly. I let Teddy lick all the tears away, and then I went outside with (my awesome) pups and played with them for a while. Happy, happy, tail-wagging pups. And I'm sure that helped. And don't get me wrong, I have some amazing friends who have let me vent, vent, vent and it has helped tremendously.

But when you hit a low, you are forced to practice gratitude. Like you should do anyway. Maybe my car is just trying to get me back on track and make me remember what really matters. Not cars. 

Over the last few days, I packed up all of the Christmas decorations. But why pack these cards up?!?! They always sit out for a while and then I don't know what I do with them....display the photo cards and shove the other ones in a box. Tonight I looked at them and smiled. Well, they are all being hung up for a while. Just as a lil' reminder that people are thinking of us even if I don't always feel it. I'm not alone. I need to reach out to people who care and tell them what is going on, not put up walls. That is my fault. I'm imperfect and/but I'm enough. I'm enough to reach out and ask for help and to be imperfect. These people think I'm enough. 

That is the raw me. The raw version of me living far away from so many loved ones, doubting my worthiness and trying all the time to be a better wife, daughter, sister, niece, granddaughter, friend. Thank you to those who have stood by me and supported me. And thank you, Brene. I am halfway done with The Gifts of Imperfection and it is like my bible. You are brilliant. This is my pledge.