Ugly Dress Ball

I mentioned before that this past year was the first time since 1998 that I haven't attended a Marine Corps Birthday Ball. Well, I wasn't alone in not attending a Ball. One of our KVs came up with the idea of having an Ugly Gown Ball. We finally had it last weekend. It was a blast, not to mention a blast from the past! One of my friends wore her junior prom dress, complete with mismatched neon socks and jelly bracelets. Okay, the fact that she still had the dress (a pink, off the shoulder Jessica McLintock number) AND could still wear it... Well, it's just not right!

The woman in the gunny sack dress won for Ugliest Dress. You can't tell in the picture, but her tiara, ring and want all light up. This might have been a bit of a theme as another friend wore shoes that lit up. I wore sneakers with my dress because at most Balls, my feet are killing me by the end of the night. But I have to say, trying to do the twist in sneakers and on carpet is not an easy feat. And that pink thing in my hair is a skewer from sampling the chocolate fountain (YUM!).

One of the ladies brought champagne in a can (think the size of a small juice box). They had tiny straws attached to them (again, a la juice box). Between that and the outfits (more than one woman was sporting some electrifying blue eyeshadow, as well), we just couldn't get much classier!

We ate and danced and some even karaoke'ed. A few times I snuck peeks at the few men present (the Family Readiness SNCO, CO and DJ) and wondered if we were scaring them yet, especially when the roll of toilet paper started flying (one piece snagged on a ceiling fan and stayed there for the rest of the night). I'm sure Staff Sergeant was inwardly shaking his head and thinking, "Is this what happens when we go off for a year?"

And to that, I can only say, "Oh, honey, if you only knew..."

Kudos to all the ladies who planned and put the night together. It was a great way to round off this deployment. I'm so glad I was on the same roller coaster as these special ladies.

September 11

Six years ago, we were in San Francisco on a vacation. We stood in our hotel room glued to the TV. At first, we thought it was a movie or something. It took us awhile to realize that we were watching news coverage of actual events that were taking place that day. Very quickly, Hubs was on the phone with his unit. Then I was on the phone to arrange for an early return home. There was nothing we could do that day, so we ventured out into the city. It was so eerie. Everything was so quiet and almost deserted. It was as if the entire city was in shock. I guess it was, really.

I feel like I should have something to say today. But I don't. Words really aren't enough.

Lactation, Navy-style

In 2000, I gave birth to my first child at Robert E. Bush Naval Hospital in the middle of the Mojave Desert. That pretty much sets the tone, doesn’t it? Because she was my first child, I was horrified that these insane people at the hospital were going to send this child home with me when I was obviously unqualified to care for her. Maybe that’s why I didn’t notice that all of my post-delivery care was provided by men. My nurses and corpsmen were all men. Don’t misunderstand me -- they were great and I received wonderful care. But it was a bit odd, and I didn’t notice. My mother pointed it out when she visited before my discharge. It might have been odd but it wasn’t terribly surprising. After all, it was a Naval hospital.

The nurse serving as the lactation consultant was also a man, a Navy Ensign. He was very encouraging and supportive and just a bit over the top. My husband says he was way over the top. My husband left for a short time to bring a friend to see me. While he was gone, this Ensign, the male lactation consultant, came in to see me for a consult because I was having some problems. Once my husband returned, the Ensign called him out to the hall to go over all the things he’d already discussed with me and to drive home the importance of my husband being supportive of the process. While that sounds pleasant enough, this was an Ensign on a mission and he was on the warpath to ensure my husband knew he should have been there to receive the lecture, I mean consultation, with me. Maybe he was having a bad day. My husband is a 6’8” Marine. I didn’t see this “lecture” as a good idea.

Our lactation issues were just beginning. The hospital also had another person whose job title was Breast Education Specialist/ Lactation Consultant. This person was, thankfully, a woman. After being home with our baby and continuing to have difficulty, I was referred to this consultant. My mother was still there to help out so she came with me. The three of us, Mom, the baby and me, sat in this woman’s office for an hour. We discussed what I had tried and what more I could do. I nursed the baby while the consultant observed and offered suggestions. Finally, we got ready to leave. As we were going out the door, Mom asked her, “Did you nurse all of your children?”

She smiled and answered very sweetly, “Oh, I don’t have any children.”

Gee, I think I could have read the books myself. Oh, wait, I think I did.

*In case it wasn't clear, this post was a memoir post. The child I wrote about is going to be 7 in less than 2 months. I was having a rough, deployment gremlin-filled day and wanted to post something that struck me as funny.