We've Moved!

It has been a crazy cyclone of a mess around here.

But I've got some exciting news!

Four weeks ago, we moved! ...not to a new base or state, just to a new neighborhood that comes with a larger house and a better view. We love it so far. It's a breath of fresh air and as close as we're going to come to a new beginning without having official military orders; which I'm still holding out for- I've got that moving bug...ready to go, see, and explore new regions, countries, and cultures.

But for now, we're busy exploring our new surroundings and forming new routines.

In the morning hours, we hit the 3.4 mile walking trail that is conveniently located a block from our home. The best part is, it swings through a park and hangs a left back to our front yard. The kids look forward to this little routine, and to be honest, I'm enjoying it myself...even with the intense heat.

When the sun begins to settle, we pull out the bikes to squeeze the remaining drops of Oklahoma's golden rays. The kids are quiet, expelling their last ounce of energy in a soothing rhythm of petal, push, glide, while the sun drowns the swaying fields of wildflowers and foliage that rattle with the wind in pools of canary yellow and burnt orange; we're bathed in the evening light.

This is my therapy,  my church, my time to reflect and clear my head.

On a side-note, I've been busy wrapping up some projects that I'd love to share with you over the next couple of weeks!

Things are turning out to be on the sunny side-- after all, it is Friday!

Emmie

PS Photos are from instagram. Follow me here:  http://instagram.com/emilyroe

When the torando hit...

With all the footage on the news and social medias such as Facebook and Twitter, I'm sure you all have heard about the devastation that has hit our current state, Oklahoma, this past Monday. It hit very close to us-- within a few miles of our home. Fortunately we are all safe and counting our blessings.

I was following the storm throughout the day, so I knew I needed to pick Krysta up from school early before the weather got worse-- I'm relieved that I did because some of the local schools quickly went into lock down. As the early afternoon events unraveled and the twister grew larger and stronger, my heart sank into my stomach. Moments later, the alarms went off and things suddenly became a reality-- we were in the line of this tornado. When Tinker Air Force Base flashed across the screen, we quickly went into our tornado shelter. When we came out, we saw all of the devastating footage that took place in Moore, just a few miles down the road.    

Days later, I'm still in disbelief that such a horrific disaster is going on just a few miles from our home. It's like a war zone. Building and homes destroyed. Horse farms completely flattened. Parents searching for their children. Families without homes walking down the street, carrying their pets, babies, and a handful of remaining belongs. And the most heartbreaking, children trapped in the rubble of the elementary school, especially the ones that never made it out.

In a world where we are constantly at odds, there is still humanity. It's warming to know that people from all walks of life can come together to help save strangers, reunite families together, lend a helping hand, and to selflessly donate food, clothing, and shelter.

If you'd like to donate to the American Red Cross to help with some of the relief, click here. Every little bit helps. 
If you're on Tinker AFB, there is a donation box set up at the commissary. They are in need of all baby items, can goods, hygiene products, and more. We went the other day, and it felt so good to give to those in need.

Thank you all for your texts, emails, and FB posts/messages. We're feeling incredibly fortunate, and we're praying that this town quickly heals and rebuilds.

Love, EM 

A Night in Paris {Krysta's Ballet Recital}

I'm shaking my head and hanging it low in shame. Forgive me, this post has been stuck in my "draft" folder. I wrote it while on the plane to Hawaii, but never clicked published. Through all of the excitement, it remained forgotten until today. So, without further ado, here is Krysta's dance recital from June. *red cheeks*

**********

It’s quiet. The stage is set. Lights of pink, blue, and green descend from overhead to illuminate the stage. Violins strum as the orchestra joins in over the sound system, in a slow sweet opening. As the music increases, thirty little ballerinas dressed in white, prance under the spotlight in sync with one another, as the audience resounds in “awe”. The performance begins, and my girl instinctively moves in graceful spins and pointed toes.

I felt them coming…the tears. I pushed them back and held them off for as long as I could, but as soon as I laid my eyes on Krysta, I waved my white flag and surrendered. I became so overwhelmed with the emotion of seeing my little girl on stage that my eyes swelled, breaking the dam as tears began to roll uncontrollably down my cheeks. Yes, we’ve done many recitals in the past, but the lump-in-the-throat and heart swelling never goes away. It’s usually around this time –the waterworks part- that I look over at Ron to see his eyes glistening as he watches his baby pirouette, but there was just a stranger sitting beside me. This was the first recital that Ron wasn’t able to attend. I was the only one that came to see her performance, but that’s all she needed. She knew daddy was thinking of her and supported her big day from thousands of miles away. 

The tempo changed paced as the group of bouncing bopping girls did high kicks and pom-pom shakes across stage. This was her first year doing Pom, and while she loved doing her number on stage, she decided that Pom wasn’t her thing…she’d rather arabesque in yards to tulle instead of booty shake in sequins. Her exact words were, “ballet is prettier”.

But she did it, and she did it well.  I’m so proud of her.

“To dance is to be out of yourself. Larger, more beautifully, more powerful. This is power, it is glory on earth, and it is yours for the taking.” –Agnes De Mille

Love,
EM

on we go (otherwise known as the big instagram overload post)

Written several days ago, but never quite made it to the "publish" button...
Flashes of lightening and the rolling of thunder ceased at dawn as the sun attempted to stretch its rays bringing forth a new day, only to be chased off by grey clouds. It’s a dreary morning –one where I slowly drink my coffee, staring out the window, watching the rain as it slowly rolls down my roof, sprinkling across the yard leaving small puddles for birds to play in. Here these birds are --despite previous storms (tornado type storms), current rain, and next week’s forecasted storms-- enthusiastically chirping and living it up in my front yard. I’m reminded that even in the hardest of times and the gloomiest of days, there’s a Bright-side and a positive outlook in very situation. For an example, I lost my wedding ring last week. Bright-side? Um…It’ll turn up…eventually.

As I write, both kids are still sleeping; making this truly a rare moment --a rare moment when I can sit alone and breathe in the silence. I needed this, this moment to myself, to clear my head, to heighten my senses and to grasp and be thankful of the beauty that surrounds me in the smallest of places.

Lately, life has been fast paced, a blur really. I can’t recall our happenings or even describe the little moments that have now quickly vanished with time. But I’m okay with fast paced. I’m even okay with blurry. I get lost in the haze of the day which quietly slips into a week, and before I knew it, it became clear, “life moves on. we're moving on. and we're okay."

Here are some of our blurry moments…

(you see that photo, right there? skyping with my Love is a huge highlight of our day)

photos from Instagram iPhone app. Join us! http://web.stagram.com/n/emilyroe

I knew this month would fly by with all of the preparations for our big upcoming plans. I’ve been diligently checking off my jammed-packed black-hole of a to-do list that consists of ballet, jazz, and pom practices/rehearsals/recital, finishing projects and paintings, wrapping up my current obligations, and preparing the house and my Louie Lou (our pookie cat) for our departure-- that’s right, we’re going out of state to visit my mom (aka Mimi) later this month, and we couldn’t be more excited. I take that back... we're OVER THE MOON! It's all Krysta talks about, and we're counting down the days until we leave. I know this trip is just what we need to fill the empty space until Ron returns.

What are your big summer plans?

On we go,  *click, publish*

Em

Hope.

It’s been five weeks since I’ve reflected on our small daily moments and memory banked the tiny details that have quickly faded with time. As the days overlapped into weeks, I’ve come to realize that I need this place; this sliver of space in the blogosphere-- a place where I lay down my words, my memories, my images to tell the story our life’s journey. I’ve missed casting light on our positive happenings and realizing that it’s the small things that makes this life so grand, like a cotton candy sunsets or golden baby curls.

Since Ron has been overseas, my emotions are wavering and my head is cloudy, making it difficult to muster up and pull my thought process fully to the surface. I’m treading on water-- unable to move forward, nor backwards, not sinking, but yet unable to rise. I thoughtlessly go through the daily motions-- get Krysta off to school, entertain William, clean, paint, lunch, nap, homework, dinner, dance class (depending in the day), dinner, bath, bed, repeat, repeat…repeat. I tell myself to focus, stay in control, keep a routine, slap on a smile, and all will be okay. But, while I smile and laugh and carry on, I’m screaming on the inside. It physically hurts to have an overabundance of raw emotion full of sadness, worry, and fear. I feel powerless and helpless, confined. I can’t speed up time or skip ahead through days, weeks, and months. I have no choice but to endure the mind-numbing lingering minutes that make up time until our family can again become whole.

Over the past two months that Ron has been deployed, there have been many incredible moments, times that I wish we could have experienced together as a family of four, and yet, there have been moments surrounded by triggers. Triggers that stop me in my tracks and hit me at my core-- a phrase, a song, a gesture, they all make time freeze to a breathless halt. Ron’s presence and memory is weaved and embedded in the fabrics of our everyday life, as it should. I can’t prevent the triggers or the emotions that follow, nor can I avoid them, so I will choose to embrace them. I will embrace the pain and frustration, along with the happy carefree moments, because in reality, embracing the good with the bad, and overcoming the difficult is the only way to truly be “okay”.

Today, I’m embracing moments like this one.

And this one.

There’s a saying that goes, “Do more of what you love.” Cheers to that! There’s something magical that begins to brew when we surround ourselves with pure heart-swelling happiness. For me, my love is my children, painting, and anything artsy, so it’s only natural that I paint my babies.

Below is a piece that I’m currently working on…

 I’m slowly but surely starting to feel like my old self again-- finding love and joy in the things I do and extending that same joy and passion to my children. We’re embracing the loneliness and the hollowness together and turning it into our strength, our fuel to carry through the fight.

I have hope that life’s wrinkles and bumps with soon smooth out and fade and our journey’s path will lead to sunnier skies.

“We are all in the gutter, but some of us are looking at the stars.” Oscar Wilde

Much Love,

Em

Moving right along.

Besides the song, The Twelve Days of Christmas, there’s nothing significant about the Number 12. But, for us it’s a tiny milestone. It’s 12 days that I haven’t seen my husband; 12 days that my children haven’t seen their daddy; and 12 days that we’ve been 1,000’s of miles apart.

However, there is a bright side --it’s 12 days down and 12 days less to go on our deployment countdown. We’re settling into a life of our own --keeping with old schedules while forming new routines that work for us as a "single parent home" to function and thrive smoothly.

I was raised in a single parent home; my father left when I was seven and I haven’t seen him since. In many ways, my unfortunate childhood situation has prepared me for this military life, a life of continuous deployments and fully taking the reigns while they’re away, being 100% in charge of the family and household. It has taught me how to be the glue and to keep everything held together when there’s a constant missing piece. I’ve seen the struggles of my mother, I’ve seen her failures and successes, and as our deployments have come and gone I’ve learned and grown from them throughout the past ten years of being a military wife. Unlike the typical single parent, I have a light at the end of the tunnel --my husband will come back, and we will be a complete family again. And that alone is worth living day to day with my head held high.

I find hope in the darkest of days, and focus in the brightest. I do not judge the universe. --Dalai Lama

Since moving to Oklahoma, I’ve been trying to live by the saying, “You can’t move forward, if you keep looking back” …or something along those lines. It has really helped me to stay positive through the storm and to write our family's next chapter. And so in order to move forward and steer steadily and victoriously through until the fall, I’ve been reflecting on Ron’s last weekend with us -- trying to memorize the little moments and embraces, the smiles and laughter.

Here’s a happy moment…

let me tell you, Brother does not want Sister's lovings!


And here’s another one…

one of my favs from the weekend


If you’ll excuse me, I have a little girl dying to read her book in the hammock and an antsy little tot begging to play in his sand table.

Be the glue, hold it together, and look above for brighter days.

Em

The Dripping Hourglass

I sipped my morning coffee while looking up at the only remaining party decoration, a woodland themed wreath, which hangs above my table. I’m reminded that my grand scheme of distraction has come to an end. The party is over, the dust has settled, and now I’m left with the sting of reality…Ron is deploying.

My breaths are becoming heavier and short as the days and hours slip by. I haven’t broken down or released the waterworks, I’m just numb. I’ve played this game, danced the dance, and I’m wise enough to know what’s around the corner. It can’t be stopped, it can’t be slowed down, and there’s no going back.

It’s like being on steel tracks when the train is moving at full speed. Frozen. Or in the middle of a tidal wave and not being able to paddle out. Helpless. Or being trapped in a shark’s tank, feeling vulnerable.

But when push comes to shove, I’m going to let that train hit me, and allow that wave to carry me under, because when I stand up on the other side, I will begin to feel again, the numbness will subside, and I can begin to rebuild and reshape my household until my better half returns.

The buildup is always the hardest –emotionally building up for him to leave, mentally building up for his return. Minutes cruelly stretch into hours, and hours linger into weeks. It’s a mental game of tug-a-war; I want time to freeze and capture the quickly moving moments, but yet I want the deployment clock to start ticking and the hourglass to flip over so we can begin the 6+ month countdown and anticipate his homecoming.

As military wives of deployed loved ones, we’ve been put into an unimaginable situation. A situation where the only guideline to follow is to carry on. A situation where it hurts so much that we have to force ourselves out of bed. A situation that brings equal parts of pain and pride.

Pride is stronger than pain, and good trumps evil. That in itself is worth carrying on and standing tall, standing proud.

We mustn’t fall.


"love bears all things, hopes all things, endures all things." 1Corinthians13:7

Much Love,
 Em