Day 1545: The End... or is it?

Although I am posting this entry on January 21, 2015; it should have been posted on October 11, 2012... which is why I have marked the day count ‘Day 1545’, one day after my last entry posted almost two and a half years ago.  And even though so much time has passed, there are still quite a few people, according to blogspot, who are still following SchutzHappens.  So for my followers, I have mounted up and collected my thoughts for one last SchutzHappens post.  I feel like I owe it to you.  You endured quite a lot.

Over the course of 1544 days I posted 632 times.  For you statistics junkies, that comes out to a post every two and a half days over the course of, roughly, four years and three months. 

You have endured me prattling on about movies and television shows.  My misadventures working for the Foreign Service.  My childhood, best friends, random videos I found entertaining, things I didn’t find entertaining… videos chronicling my family’s travels… and countless stories about my kids.  My kids.  My boys.

It’s hard to believe Grayson is turning 9 and Gilliam will be 5 in less than a month.  Gilliam didn’t even exist when I started this silly blog.

Quite a lot has happened since we last spoke.  A lot.

I got divorced.

I look back at my last few posts and I see a subtext that the average reader probably missed.  I was in the midst of the divorce, I was in denial… and I continued to post. 

When that denial boiled over and evaporated; leaving only the crusty remains of reality… I walked away from this blog… my one and only creative outlet while traversing the world and, at the time, living alone in a very small and isolating country. 

I walked away because I didn’t have anything nice to say anymore and I was smart enough, and had enough self-control, not to turn SchutzHappens into my personal forum for airing dirty laundry.

So, I merely whiled away the time missing my boys and adjusting back into a single man’s lifestyle.  Which I believe is nothing more than watching copious amounts of television (which I was already very good at), preparing every meal in a crockpot (which I am also pretty good at), and counting down the days until I could travel home to see my boys (which took three different airplanes and over 24 hours of continuous travel to accomplish).

The divorce didn’t bother me.  In all reality, my marriage was a failed experiment doomed from the beginning.  I was there for the boys. And I was merely waiting for the guillotine to drop.  The only thing that bothered me was the realization of not having my boys with me at all times.  And it still bothers me.

I look back at my posts on this blog and I don’t see a man writing truthfully about his marriage.  I see a man writing about the marriage he wish he had.  Projecting.

Throughout my marriage I was told numerous times that the kind of love, connection, and partnership I wanted existed only in the movies and that I was a dreamer.  I was told that settling was what people do and was encouraged to settle and not expect, in return, what does not exist in reality.  I can only assume that we were talking about love.

Sure I settled.  I settled for quite while.  All the while blogging about a make believe relationship I wish I inhabited.  Always believing that the kind of relationship I truly wanted really did exist.

Being a dreamer was always an ongoing theme of this blog.  And in my life.  I have accomplished so much and defied so many odds simply by being a dreamer (who also has the ability to set goals and work towards them… not just dream… that is key). 

And finally the blade dropped… I was on my own… and I continued to dream…

And in the context of this post; everything I have written thus far is merely exposition.  For this is not a sad story.  This is not a woe is me story.  What I have written thus far has merely been exposition to set the stage… for a story much more powerful than anything that has inhabited the pages of this blog for the last four (plus) years.  Like the Phoenix who has risen from the ashes anew, refreshed, and more focused… there is a new beginning.  A much needed new beginning.  A new story.  The kind of story you read about in books.  The kind you see in movies… the kind that were ‘not’ supposed to exist… but really do.

So, although this final post closes the door on SchutzHappens… it is merely closing a chapter of my life, while also celebrating what is to come… the next chapter.  A new chapter.

And this new chapter began two years and three days after my last post on this blog, ‘Day 1544’… when this dreamer married the woman he always knew existed:  Heather.

And it is for Heather that I am writing this today.  We were setup on a blind date by a mutual friend… and she googled me… finding this blog.  By the time we met face to face for the first time she had already read all Six Hundred and Thirty-Two posts.  And we have been together ever since that first blind date.

For the last few months Heather has been endlessly encouraging me to begin blogging again… and she even dreamt up the name of this new blog chronicling our life together:  SchutzHappens 2.0.

So please join me is saying goodbye to SchutzHappens 1.0… because it is time to restart the day count and begin SchutzHappens 2.0.  I will see you on the other side my friends!

Day 1544: Haircuts

When it comes to personal grooming, I have to admit… haircuts are not my favorite thing in the world.  In fact, I tend to put them off until I look like a sweaty-toothed madman.

That said, whenever you move to a new country, your next haircut becomes something of a challenge… so I was determined to get one before leaving for Eritrea.  And I wanted to get it done during one of my morning outings with Gilliam.

And guess what?

Gilliam needed a haircut, too.  And at first… he seemed totally game.

So, we started the morning with our traditional trip to Dunkin Donuts, followed by a trip to the library… and then to the salon.  However, between the library and the salon Gilliam started trying to talk me out of getting a haircut.

Normally, I would have totally caved.  I don’t like haircuts, but I needed one before I left… so Gilliam humored me… although he made it clear that he didn’t want one for himself.

Not that he had much say in the matter.

When we arrived, there were two stylists available and they set-up chairs right next to each other, however, Gilliam was not impressed.  He became even less impressed when his stylist picked him up and placed him (gently) on a buster seat.

Gilliam wanted nothing to do with him or the haircut he was offering.

Instead, Gilliam opted to sit quietly in the seat on the other side of me and watch patiently while I got my hairs cut.  Our conversation was quite entertaining for the rest of the folks in the salon.

And once I was finished and cleaned up I declared it Gilliam’s turn.  And with great trepidation, Gilliam climbed onto the buster seat and then made a declaration of his own. 

He would only get his hairs cut if he could sit on my lap rather than on the buster seat.  Which was totally fine with me… but then he also declared that he did not want to wear a cape… and he didn’t want me to wear one either.

So… there I was… with my little two and a half year old on my lap… him getting a haircut, and neither of us with any protection from the falling itchy follicles. 

Throughout the cut, Gilliam remained unimpressed, but like a big boy, he dealt with it.  And all the while, the two of us were getting covered in hair.

Now, I’ll have to admit.  I hate the itchiness that results from getting a haircut and often times I time my cuts with the ability to get home for a shower… and this cut… this time… with Gilliam… was the most itchy I had ever been! 

When it was all said and done, Gilliam was amazing.  We were both covered in hair, but we both looked good from the neck up. 

The only thing that really impressed Gill at the end of it all was the lollipop… and all I could do was monitor the time.  I had just enough to get home, drop Gill off with Serena, and dart to Grayson’s school for one last father-son lunch before heading off to Africa.

While Gilliam received a much needed bath and nap… I spent 20 itchy minutes hanging with my eldest… and it was totally worth it.

That said… the moment I got home I showered.  And that felt (almost) as good as making it to lunch with Grayson.

Day 1537: Grayson Time

Now, Gilliam wasn’t the only son of mine getting a healthy dose of daddy-time during my two weeks in Atlanta.

However, with Grayson in school most of the day I had to be a little bit more creative with our time together, especially for just the two of us. 

I’m a younger brother, so I have no idea what it is like to be an older sibling, however, I know this… big brothers, more times than not, have to share their time with their siblings.  And this is certainly true with Grayson.  Getting one on one time is few and far between. 

So, I made a point of giving Grayson his own special moments.  Simple as they may seem… they were very special.

After school one day I took Gray to play mini-golf for the first time.  We had been meaning to play for months.  We tried to find a course in Miami and Washington, DC, however, we could never seem to find one conveniently located, especially without having a car at our disposal.  So, finally, in Atlanta, we had a chance to play 18 holes.

One day Gray mentioned he had a bunch of Xbox games he didn’t want anymore and he really wanted to get a new game we could play together.  So, I told him to pull all of his games out and choose the ones he didn’t want any more… once he did, I took him to Game Stop and told him I would add $10 to how ever much Game Stop would pay him for his old games.  In the end we had enough for Lego Pirates of the Caribbean, which was the game Gray really wanted.  And then we went home and spent the rest of the afternoon playing.

Now, one of the more enjoyable things we did together, for both Grayson and me, was actually during school.  I joined him for lunch.  His school is huge and they actually have special tables outside of the noisy lunch room for families.  It was really great and we had so much fun.  And I especially enjoyed Gray’s thought on his new school:  “Dad, this school is nothing like Suriname International School”.

This made me laugh.  “Yeah… I know… your class here is almost larger than the entire student body of SIS.”

The most impressive thing about my visit was how the school handles lunch money.  Back when I was in school we had to buy lunch tickets and we were responsible for keeping them safe and not losing them.  If you did lose them… you went without lunch.  However, at Grayson’s school, parents send money directly to the teacher, who deposits it in a digital lunch account.  And after Grayson picks out his lunch and goes to the cashier, he simply types in a five-digit number into a keypad, unique to him, which automatically deducts money from his account.

I don’t know what I thought was cooler.  The accounts the lunch room used for payment or the fact that Grayson knew his lunch number without having to think about it.  Honestly, I don’t know if I could have memorized a five-digit number when I was only six and a half.

Grayson actually knew I was coming the first time I came for lunch… however; the second time I showed up was a surprise.  And when his class appeared marching down the hall single file, and he saw me standing there waiting for him outside the lunch room, Grayson lit up.  Staying in line he just smiled at me.  And when he caught up with me he gave me a hug and said, “Dad!  You didn’t tell me you were coming today!”

Me: “I know, I wasn’t sure if I was going to make it.  Gilliam and I were running some errands, but we got home in time for me to run up here and have lunch with you.”

Gray:  “Thanks Dad.”

And yet again, we enjoyed 20 minutes together at the family table.  This time I had Grayson in stitches telling him about taking Gilliam for a haircut that morning… which explained why I was covered in hair… and itchy… but I’ll save that story for my next post.

Day 1528: Donut Time

From the time Serena and the boys reached Atlanta, while I remained in Washington, DC, all Serena could talk about, with great pride, was how much I would love the house she found for them to live while I was away.  She felt it would be a suitable place that would feel like home when I visited.

However, once our shipments of household effects and permanent storage arrived in Atlanta, her voice lost its sense of pride and gave way to feelings of distant frustration.  She was a bit overwhelmed… especially having two young boys to look after while trying to unpack just about everything we own.  We didn’t merely receive the stuff we had in Suriname, which was overwhelming enough, but we also received everything we had placed in storage four years ago when we initially joined the State Department; making the unpacking process a much larger task than normal.

Although Serena appreciates my help when it comes to unpacking, she likes to place everything herself.  She likes to make her own home, which I can’t blame in the least; so most of my unpacking assistance is restricted to opening boxes and moving them into their proper locations.

So, when I finally joined my family in Atlanta, for a mere two weeks, I had a plan.  I would manage the boys so Serena would have time to do what she needed to do with the house, at least for just a few hours each day.  This was also a selfish endeavor on my part because I wanted to spend as much time as I could with my boys.  And as I mentioned in my last post, I was headed to Atlanta without anything hanging over my head… I was arriving in the proper state of mind to seize the day.

However, now that Grayson is in school… there wasn’t much to do, at least in the mornings, except help him get ready for school and walk him to the bus stop and once Gray was safely aboard and off… that left Gilliam.

Gilliam, who is now two and a half, and I seem to have a very different relationship than I do with Grayson.  And that probably has to do with birth order, their age difference, and how old they were when I left for my one-year tour in Pakistan.  Grayson was four and a half.  Gilliam was only six months old.

Growing up, it wasn’t until Grayson was about three years old when he finally zoned in on wanting daddy time and by the time I left for Pakistan, we had developed a very strong relationship.  And while I was away Grayson and I spoke, via Skype, almost every day.  And during that year we developed a very cerebral relationship.  There was no real way to ‘play’ over Skype, so during that year I think we got to know each other quite well.  But then again, he was four and a half at the time and he, kind of, understood what was going on.  I’d like to think that we’ve developed the kind of relationship where we can talk about anything.  And dang it, Grayson is a very smart cookie.  He understands a lot, feels a lot, and has very deep emotions.  One of this favorite things to ask me on Skype, even now, is “how was work today, dad?”

Gilliam, on the other hand, was only six months old.  And as he grew, he only knew of me as an idea.  “That guy on the computer screen is my dad.”  Dad… whatever that is… 

However, when I came home, two things were obvious.  1) He understood that I am his dad.  And 2) He was ready for some daddy time.

Almost immediately, Gilliam wanted to do everything with me.  Wherever I went, he wanted to come with me.  The store, to a friend’s house, you name it.  With Grayson at that age, and even a bit older, it took quite a bit of negotiating for him to agree to an adventure.  However, with Gilliam, all I have to say is “you wanna come?”  And Gilliam is says, “Let me get my shoes.”

So, when I was home this summer, it didn’t take much for me to get Gilliam out of the house, giving Serena time to organize the house.

Now, I will admit, our first morning adventure, which became our standard, was purely selfish on my part. 

I love coffee.  Love it!  I have to start my day with it.  However, Serena is allergic to caffeine, so when we left Suriname I shipped all of my coffee making paraphilia to Eritrea.  So, even though we had received a multitude of household effects in Atlanta, not one coffee making device was present.  So, on my first Monday in town, I really wanted my favorite cup of coffee… from Dunkin Donuts.

Now, as I said before, it never takes much for Gilliam to agree to an adventure, but once he found out a donut was involved he raced to the car without his shoes… and we were off.  A coffee for dad and a donut for Gilliam. 

We continued this tradition almost every day I was in town and Gilliam loved it almost as much as I did.  As soon as I saw Grayson off on the bus, Gilliam would say, “Donuts?”  Then we would kiss Serena goodbye, pile in the car, and head out for the morning. 

We would just sit together, enjoy our delicacies, talk, and we became such regulars that we were allowed into the inner circle of retired folks who started their day at Dunkin Donuts as well.  And it got to the point that Gilliam wouldn’t let me just order coffee… we both had to have our own favorite donut… which we shared.  We sat across from each other… we sat next to each other… sometimes Gilliam just wants to sit on my lap… and you know what?  It doesn’t matter.  Every configuration felt great.

The cutest thing about Gilliam and our trips stemmed from something I did on our first outing.  On the way to the Dunk that first Monday, I called my good friend Costello.  If you are avid readers of this blog, you’ll remember Costello from my saga about ‘The Chair’.  Costello is my best friend from High School and I hadn’t had the chance to see him yet and I knew he was off that morning, so I left him a message letting him know we’d be at Dunkin Donuts in case he was awake and interested.

It was pretty early, so Costello was obviously still sleeping… so I didn’t really expect to see him there; I merely wanted to touch base.  However, when I called, Gilliam, from the back seat started asking, “Who are you calling?”  And I said, “My friend Jeff.”  And Gilliam said what he always does when his questions are answered, “Oh, okay.”

When we arrived and started ordering, Gilliam asked, “Where is Jeff?”  I said, “Oh, he’s probably still sleeping, I just called to invite him… I don’t think he’ll come.”

Gilliam:  “Why?”

And then from behind us we heard a voice saying, “Wow, they’ll serve anyone around here…”

It was Jeff.  Aka, Costello.

Gilliam was almost as excited as I was.  It was almost like Gilliam knew everything Costello had gone through to deliver his stroller to us in London before he was born.

It was a great first day at Dunkin Donuts… but it was the only morning Costello was able to join us.  However, that didn’t stop my inquisitive little man.  Every morning on our way to Dunkin for our coffee and donuts he always asked about Jeff.  “Jeff coming?”  “Jeff there?” 

“No, he’s not going to be there today.”

And in Gilliam’s cute little way, strapped into his car seat, he would say, “Whyyyyyyyyy?”

“Because he can’t join us today.”

“But whyyyyyyy?”

“Well… he wants to be here, but he can’t, he has to work… but we’ll have fun right?  Just you and dad?”

“Yeah, okay.”

But that didn’t stop Gilliam from talking about Jeff while we were at Dunkin Donuts.  Whenever a large white truck pulled into the parking lot, Gilliam would say, “Dad!  Jeff’s here!”

Gilliam would always ask, “Whyyyy” when I told him it wasn’t Jeff, just a car that looked like his… but you know?  At two and a half Gilliam is a very special boy.  He understands a lot.  He knows a lot.  He absorbs a lot.  He knows good people when he meets them.  He cares… with all of his two and a half year old heart.

Our times out to Dunkin Donuts had nothing to do with Costello.  It had nothing to do with coffee or donuts… but it had everything to do with getting to know each other better… and for that… our time at Dunkin Donuts was a success.  And for that I am grateful.

Day 1510: Post to Post Transfer… Again

My transition from Suriname to Eritrea was pretty darn quick and because of that, a lengthy home leave wasn’t really in the cards.  Normally, when folks transition from post to post they’re able to take around six weeks of vacation to see loved ones and remember how to be American.  Then again, to get a full home leave folks need to have spent at least a year at the post their leaving… I was only in Suriname for 9 months… so there’s the rub.

This time around, my stay in the States was strictly centered on training in DC; which significantly limited my ability to take time off.  I’m not saying that I didn’t… but not being eligible for ‘home leave’ simply made things a bit more difficult.  Especially since Serena and the boys left Suriname about a month before me so they could find a house in Atlanta and get Grayson enrolled in school.

By the time I finished up in Suriname and caught up them in Miami, we only had time to meet up with some friends we served with in Belgrade, who were on home leave, for a couple days before we were off to DC for my training.

Thankfully, we were able to spend some quality Oakwood time as a family… when I wasn’t in training. 

Ah… Oakwood… it’s where we stay every time we’re in DC and it is the place where Serena feels like we can actually be an American family in America… meaning we’re not crashing with family or moving around visiting people… too much.  Although we did crash with Serena’s Uncle for a couple days when we became victims of this summer’s DC Blackout, which was awesome.

However, due to timing, Serena and the boys were unable stay with me in DC for my entire training.  They actually had to go back to Atlanta a few weeks early for Gray to start school and to accept the delivery of our household effect.  

That said, we didn’t have to say goodbye in DC.  Post was kind enough to let me to tack on a couple weeks of vacation onto the end of my training period, which they didn’t have to let me do, but was incredibly gracious.  And two weeks may sound like a lot, but when you’re staring down a two-year assignment away from your family, it doesn’t really feel like much. 

And to be completely honest, life in DC while in training and working though everything you need to do to transition to a new post, moving to a new country, isn’t exactly stress free.  It’s actually pretty darn stressful.  So, once Serena and the boys headed back down to Atlanta I made a point of finishing everything I needed to do in preparation of my transfer so that nothing would be hanging over my head once I left DC.

So, as soon as training was over, I hopped a flight to Atlanta and had the BEST two weeks of family time I’ve had in AGES! 

But more of that later.

Day 1507: Back in the Saddle

Well, here we go again.  Unaccompanied.

Are we crazy?  Probably… but I don’t really think our situation is as abnormal as many may think.  Solid families have done this throughout history and they still do it today.  And sure, this may be a two-year tour, but frankly, I’ll be able to make it home far more often than many of our men and women in the armed forces.  So, I guess that is how we keep things in perspective.

Also, having done this once before, while I was in Pakistan for a year, I almost feel that we’re old hat at this sort of service oriented separation.  Now, I’m not saying it isn’t tough.  Of course it is tough.  But life could be worse.  And the amazing experiences we have shared as a family has far outweighed these ‘moments’.

That said, the most interesting adjustment has certainly been the time difference.  7 hours.  And once daylight savings ends in November we’ll be dealing with an 8 hour time difference.

Serena and I have always handled distance very well.  Back when we first started dating, she was living in Nashville while I was in Atlanta.  No issues with time zones there, but for a dating couple, the smallest distance can be extremely difficult.  However, during those eight to nine months (before Serena finally said “to hell with it” and moved to Atlanta) we only spent one weekend apart.

And while I was in Pakistan, which could have been an 11 hour time difference, Serena opted to stay in Belgrade with the boys, which was only a 4 hour time difference.  During that year we Skyped almost every day… we probably only missed a handful of days total.

Here in Eritrea, it’s a little more difficult.  By the time I get home from work, it’s only about 12pm back in the States, which is fine, but now that Grayson is in school, I make a point of calling after Serena picks him up from the bus stop, which isn’t until around 10:15pm my time. 

And I’ll tell you this.  I am not much of a night-owl these days and I am dreading the end of daylight savings. 

But at the very minimum, as a family, those calls are when we are able to share some time together.  At least when Grayson doesn’t have an after school activity… and I have power, the lack of which knocks out some of my services and makes staying in touch a bit more difficult.

But, when we are able to talk.  Life is good.  And it looks like I might make it home for Christmas.  So that’s good too.

All and all, life is good.  And the adventure continues!  

Day 1428: SchutzHappens, March, 2012 - Dreams