New Baby? Time to Get a Will Drawn Up (Or Revise the Old One)

I’ve known for a long time that I needed to have a will drawn up, but, as usual, I put it off. Beyond needing a lawyer, I had no idea what was involved, and, hey, lawyers are expensive, aren’t they? After Sean was born, though, I couldn’t keep putting it off. And besides, we had an appointment looming with our financial adviser, so I finally did the research.

Today’s Military Wife didn’t have anything in it about wills, and Googling ‘military spouse last will and testament’ didn’t yield anything useful. I searched for a number of different combinations of keywords before hitting on ‘military spouse legal services,’ and finding this website: Armed Forces Legal Assistance. I learned from that site that, yes, I can probably get help creating a will at a legal assistance office.

When I used their search tool to find the nearest office, however, it told me it was in Connecticut. So I went back to Google and found that, of course, there was one right here on the base in Newport. I called the office and made an appointment to meet with a lawyer. As a bonus, they also asked if Danielle’s will needed an update.

They e-mailed us a whole slew of paperwork to fill out, most of which was mind-numbingly boring, but some of the research was fun. ‘SGLI is how much now? SCORE!’ All kidding aside, it was nice to have a pretty clear picture of our assets.

It also forces you to ask each other some of the hard questions about the future: What will happen with your kids if both you and your spouse are deceased? Who should be the guardian? Do you need to establish a trust? What’s a trust?

Once all the paperwork was filled out (and it really wasn’t that hard), the rest was easy. Danielle and I met with a JAG at the legal services office, he asked a few questions, and then he set about drafting a will and last testament, a living will, a health care power of attorney, and a durable power of attorney for each of us. While he entered all our info into the computer, we walked to get a cup of coffee.

Once it was done, I couldn’t believe how easy it had been, and I couldn’t believe I’d waited so long to have it done.

And on top of that, it was free.

The legal services offices provide great services to service members and their families, and many of them are underutilized because people don’t know about their services. If you need a power of attorney before the next deployment, or if you need to finally get your will drawn up (and you do), click the link above and find the nearest office. Or just Google it. Chances are, there’s an office on the base you’re stationed at.

what can you write in a blog?

My husband and I disagree on what I should or shouldn’t say in my blog, or anything that I write for that matter. To clarify, I write about my life not his life, but since we’re married my actions affect him.

To frame this conflict correctly, let me point out that my husband and I have opposite personalities. Of course we complement each other in a perfect way, (I being the better half or whole to be politically correct) but are nonetheless different. He’s calm, level headed, patient, and very private. I also have a temper — an Italian one — I’m impulsive, inpatient, and an open book.

I think this happens often with couples. However, I write a column and a blog full of scandalous details about my secret life as a Ninja’s wife, and my husband wants to establish some boundaries, such as telling me what I should or should not reveal. Ok, let me rephrase this: He suggests rather than tells. And to be fair, this is a very important issue not only for a writer/blogger who reveals personal things, but also for anyone who is affiliated with the military.

Military people, and specifically Ninjas like my husband, must be private. It’s part of the job. They can’t reveal certain aspects of their profession, let alone discuss missions, deployments or anything else that could endanger someone else’s life.

So when it comes to anything related to my husband’s job or specific military matters he’s absolutely correct. I cannot reveal or talk about anything specific. It’s an absolutely cut and dry issue.

But, here is the catch, when it comes to other areas of our lives, really what I write about I’m not a cut and dry girl, more of a shades of gray type, so it’s all up for grabs. The dirtier the better.

And this is where my husband disagrees. Why air your dirty laundry? Asks the well intentioned and extremely handsome fellow to whom I’m married. Why be subject to hate e-mails or nasty comments, or worse, ridicule by people we know?

And I’m tempted to give in a little — because of his good looks and Ninja powers — but my stubbornness has the better of me. Who cares what other people think? At this point my husband or anyone else may ask, why write a column at all if you don’t care what others think? The reason: It’s awesome to be honest and to let go of all of those games and pretenses of being perfect or to be above and beyond struggles. Really who is? We all have dirty laundry, some more, some less, but it’s all the same.

When I talk about my weaknesses, also masked by my hotness and fantastic personality, people respond and share their own struggles. It makes it so much easier to go through it. And it makes my day when I get a comment form someone who says, “Hey, I also had a pregnant butt and felt terrible about it,” or “I bought McDonalds for my children too many times to count.” And as corny as it sounds, I don’t feel alone anymore.

So, if my writing or blog ever ruffles your feathers, try not to start a reply with #$%*& you — I delete these comments without reading. But if the e-mail is at least legible, you may convince me that I’m wrong and help to convert me to your particular creed or religion.

When it comes to my husband I’ll give a little. I’ll never write anything about him unless it somehow relates to me.

I wish I’d stood up

This weekend I got the chance to drive to the nearby National Guard base where the Tennessee Air National Guard’s 118th Airlift Wing is stationed along with some Army National Guard units as well. There was an FRG meeting happening on Saturday morning and a wife whose husband is part of the 118th had suggested I come talk to the group and let them know about what we’re doing with Wives of Faith.

I’m always a little nervous when I head to a military installation by myself, especially one I’ve never been to before. But after getting clear directions from Sherri, the family program coordinator there, I got there okay. Since I hadn’t yet gotten my military ID changed back to reserve from active reserve and it was six months after the expiration date, I was warned not to show my ID but instead, just my driver’s license, since the guys at the gate would be required to take the ID from me if they saw it, and then once inside, I could go ahead and get my ID renewed after I finished talking at the FRG meeting.

My little part at the meeting went fine. I always love letting other women know about our group because I see it as one more option they may not have had before to use for connecting with other wives and finding encouragement and support.

So my main task finished, I made my way back downstairs and after stopping a couple of people in uniform and asking for directions, I found the small room in the back of the building where they deal with ID cards. Being the first weekend of the month, I’d forgotten it was a drill weekend, and when I opened the door, I remembered pretty quickly since most of the chairs were full.

Surrounded by ACUs and already feeling a little out of place in my shirt and jeans, I put my name on the list, took a seat by the door and waited. When you’re not used to being around people in uniform, it’s always a little intimidating when you are. You know the time and training these people have put in to wear that uniform and you know it’s not a club to which you belong. Add to that the fact that you’re a reserve wife, and the intimidation grows even more.

Just a couple of minutes after I sat down, a woman in uniform walked over and asked what I needed. I told her I needed to renew my spouse card.

“Do you have Form 11-something?” she asked.

Why is there always a form involved… I thought but kept my question to myself.

“No, Sherri had said I just needed my  ID and I have my driver’s license.”

“Well, you really need Form 11– if your husband isn’t with you but as long as you have two forms of photo ID, we can do it. But I have all of these guys to do first so it will take a while.”

“I don’t mind waiting,” I told her.

So I waited. I looked around the room. Four men, two women all sat in chairs. I wondered if the women had kids at home, how they juggled their drill weekends with everything else. I watched one man text on his blackberry and another talk low on his cell phone which was a little surprising since my husband had told me once when we were at his base that I couldn’t talk on my phone while we were waiting in the same kind of office. Maybe the rules were a little different here. Maybe that was one of the perks of being Air Force over Navy.

Just then, one of the women in uniform from behind the counter came out and locked the door. “I’m locking up now for lunch,” she informed us. I checked my watch. It was 10:30 a.m. I guessed they were serious about their lunch times not being interrupted and were heading off extra business before they could take a seat.

One at a time, the number of people in the room lessened as they were helped with whatever problem they had or needed done. But as one man got done and walked out the door, there was a woman on the other side who stuck her head in.

“Ma’am, we’re closed for lunch right now,” the petite woman in uniform behind the counter informed her firmly. The woman was dressed very similarly to me. Shirt and jeans. And she looked as intimated about walking into a roomful of uniforms as I had.

“I know but I won’t have a babysitter this afternoon to come back at 1,” she said, the tone of her voice sounding a little nervous, a little frantic and a whole lot stressed, quite aware of the many pairs of uniformed eyes looking at her. “My husband is already over there, and we still don’t have orders and I’ve been here twice already trying to get my ID and I just need to talk to somebody.”

The woman behind the counter shrugged defensively. “I’m already missing some of my lunch hour because I still have to help these guys,” she motioned to the people still sitting in the chairs.

I saw the woman’s shoulders lower and her head go down as she turned to walk out. “That’s fine,” she said quietly. “I wouldn’t want to keep you from eating.”

As I sat there in my little corner by the door, the only military spouse in the room, I felt bad for what I’d just witnessed. I was in that woman’s shoes last year. I knew what it felt like to try and wade through unfamiliar territory like DEERS and TriCare and dealing with the whole military deployment process when you’re also dealing with the emotional stuff of having to say goodbye to your husband. Then I got mad. I wish I’d stood up and defended her. I wished I had thought quick enough and told the woman behind the counter that this spouse could have my spot. I wished I’d been brave enough to say, “Help the woman out.” I wish I’d walked out with her to talk to her and try and give her some encouragement.

But I didn’t. I just stayed in my chair.

As much as we talk about the military being a close-knit community, caring for “our own”, we don’t necessarily see that on the reserve/guard side. Maybe it’s because we don’t really know who the others are. Maybe it’s because we feel like such fish out of water ourselves that we’re not sure exactly HOW to help anyone else.

But we should. The next time you see a sister military wife who needs a question answered, or just some encouragement, don’t sit in the chair and stay quiet. She needs you as much as you may one day need her.

Patient Rights and Tricare- How do I get a timely appointment?

Trying to get an appointment, especially when dealing with Tricare and the military health system, can be a daunting task. Trying to get an appointment that isn’t ten years down the road, at 4:30 in the morning, when pigs are flying with chimpanzees on their backs is even harder.

There is something you can do.

Actually, you have quite a bit of power. You just need to know your rights and when to use them.

Tricare is actually a very good insurance company. All three of the regions have steps in place to ensure that you are able to get the medical care you need as long as you know the steps to take.

So, I’ve decided I’m going to share some of the tricks of the trade over the course of the next couple of months.

Today, I’ve chosen appointments.

I act as an advocate on a regular basis trying to get patients the care they deserve. Often, I have found that it isn’t Tricare or the doctors that are keeping patients from being seen, but someone in between in the magical land of teleprompting numbers and ladies with nasal voices asking for sponsors social security numbers. So, the solution is quite simple.

If the middle man isn’t working, find some one who is.

When making an appointment, always call the appointment line first and explain your situation. Make sure you let them know the symptoms and the priority that should be given to your issue.

Be honest. Seriously, if you’ve had a bum knee for three months and are just getting around to calling, the appointment isn’t going to be listed as urgent.

However, if you just PCSed and you are 37 weeks pregnant and usually deliver at 36 weeks, priority is of the utmost importance.

If you have tried to call and aren’t getting a timely appointment, it’s time to call in the reserves. Every post, base, naval station, fort, and barracks that has an MTF (Medical Treatment Facility) has a Tricare Patient Representative. They should be prominently listed on the MTF’s website with a name and contact number.

Call that number, making sure you have the sponsor’s social security number and your personal information ready, and tell the Patient Representative about your issue.

Be polite, but let them know that you need to get an appointment in a timely manner and that you are aware that your Patient Bill of Rights entitles you to a referral to an outside source if an appointment at the MTF isn’t available promptly. Allow them 24 hours to resolve the situation.

If you aren’t satisfied at that level, all military locality websites will have consumer feedback forums (for the Army, it’s called ICE and is located at the bottom of each website’s home page). Go to the health section and file a complaint, leaving your information and requesting to be contacted. If you post a complaint anonymously, don’t expect to hear anything back. It is best to leave your information so the issue can be resolved.

Don’t worry about whether filing a complaint or calling the Patient Representative will affect your sponsor’s career. Those facilities are put in place for you to use, so use them. The military needs to know where they are not keeping up and these programs have been put in place to protect you and your ability to receive quality healthcare.

In a last resort, get in touch with me here. I’ll get you where you need to go…

Over and out.

The Champion of the Back Deck

We have indoor cats for a reason: we want to keep them safe. They’re less likely to get hit by a car, get fleas, get into fights, or get sick—in fact, I’m thinking about following the same policy with our son Sean.

One of our cats, however, has ideas of his own. Puck, who is named after a particularly mischievous character from A Midsummer Night’s Dream, is a tomcat stuck in a house cat’s body. He rushes the door every time we go in or out, and he manages to get out enough to embolden him to try again—and again, and again. Earlier this summer, he figured out how to pull open the sliding screen door our landlord just installed. One day we looked out on the back deck and both cats were out there nosing around the landscaping.

Tuesday morning, at about four o’clock, he was motivated to find a different way to get outside: there was another neighborhood cat on Puck’s deck. We heard them yowling at each other through the open window, and then we heard a crash. Danielle had to give me a nudge to go downstairs and investigate. When I saw the screen lying on the floor, I thought I’d better put on some pants and go find the cat.

Once clothed, I switched on the back light and saw Puck sitting out there, surrounded by tufts of his enemy’s fur. And Puck didn’t have a scratch on him.

He’s done this once before, down in Norfolk. Danielle was deployed, and the unmistakable sounds of a cat fight woke me up. That time, Puck had not stayed near home, savoring his victory. I had to wander around the neighborhood for a while before spotting him crossing the street. Back at home, our well-behaved cat, Oberon, didn’t seem to recognize Puck. He must have picked up a funny smell while carousing around the neighborhood. Oberon acted like a disapproving older sibling for weeks.

Looking at Puck now, curled up in the chair next to mine, you’d never guess there was such a fierce warrior lurking within.

Loving Lorelei

My daughter is missing half of her heart. When it comes to genetics, going to half off sales isn’t exactly the most intelligent option.

Only a few years ago, Lorelei would have survived a few days and died without anyone understanding what happened and now, there are surgeries and interventions that keep our heart babies alive. As far as her future, we just don’t know. No one does.

And it’s hard.

I cry for her in the middle of the day, at night when I create images of what could happen while she’s sleeping, and when she lays on the couch exhausted by just being awake.

Immense pride bubbles up inside of me when I see her able to count to twenty, walk up stairs, and play patty cake with her brother.

Profound fear arises all the time.

That last part is the part I want to investigate more because I feel like I’ve been dishonest to people when they look at me, amazed at what my family has been through, and commend me for my courage.

Honestly, I’m not feeling courageous at all. Ask the doctors, they’ll tell you. I sit at Lorelei’s bedside before, during, and after her open-heart surgeries and conjure up question after question to make sure that when we get home, I have the Book of Lorelei neatly stowed away in my mind. I over pack our mini-van for the ten hour trip, trying to ensure that every sense of home I can provide for her while she’s in the hospital is available. I log every medicine, every specialist, every piece of equipment, and all the food that is taken in and out of her room. I am the crazy lady that leaves the Ronald McDonald House every morning at 8:00 am and returns at 11:00 pm, with a giant giraffe bag filled with goodies for Lorelei and my husband, who lovingly takes the night shift.

I know that the choices I make for my daughter decide her fate, quite literally. If she goes out in the sun for more than ten minutes on a North Carolina sunny summer afternoon, she will be out for the next two days. If she is hit in the chest, more than the wind will be knocked out of her.

I’m not really sure why people see courage when they look at me. I would imagine seeing a mom toting around two diaper bags, oxygen, pulsox, and a case with medical records all over creation would raise red flags for an over-protective, lunatic mother…but that’s just me. If someone sold toddler sized bubble wrap suits, I’d buy out the entire stock.

Oddly enough, even though I’m not feeling courageous, I know I need to do these things for my daughter. It does take its toll. I’m tired and cranky. I look at the world with anything but rose colored glasses and I feel the pain of other families suffering as only a family with such experiences are able.

Time will only tell what will happen to our family as we face day after day of medical issues, but I can guarantee, everyday we will be loving Lorelei.

Over and out…

My niece said… “but you made 3 babies, you MUST know how to make them!!”

I had my niece ( stay with me for the week and every night as I tucked my daughter and my niece into bed they had “questions” to procrastinate going to bed. They asked me questions about race “why is my youngest son so white if daddy is black” and religion “how did God get the words into the bible if he lives in the sky” and my niece (who just turned had me cracking up because as I was tucking the girls into bed one night she asks, “Aunt Krista…How do you make a baby?” Unprepared I said “Oh Honey, that is a great question for you to ask your mommy sometime, your mommy knows everything!” Then she said… “But Aunt Krista, you had three babies, you must know how to make them!!!!” I used a vague analogy about planting a seed and it turning into a beautiful flower which led to a discussion about planting strawberries outside the next day (thank goodness) but I know the question will come up again from my daughter so I asked girlfriends how they broached the birds and the bees and what age was appropriate to “really explain”. My one friend said that she said “Mommy’s have a special place for making babies” and then her daughter said “show me!” and another friend actually explained where that spot was and her daughter began walking around the house with dolls between her legs to imitate having babies for a couple of days. Well….. the good news is the topic hasn’t come up again so I have time to prepare.

Ground Zero

A couple weeks ago I wrote about preparing to take the baby to New York. We managed to see a lot of Manhattan during our 3-day visit, including most of 5th Ave., a decent chunk of Central Park, the Union Square Market, and the wonderful Strand Bookstore. We also saw the mid-restoration Guggenheim, which was a bit of a let down. Much of the permanent collection was not on display, unfortunately.

On our final morning in the city we made the trek from Midtown, where our hotel was, down 6th Ave. and Broadway through Chelsea, Greenwich Village, and Tribeca to Ground Zero.

When we arrived we weren’t sure that what we were looking at was actually Ground Zero, the former site of the World Trade Center. First we saw the PATH terminal and a fence. We couldn’t see the site itself until we walked across a footbridge that overlooked it.

All I saw was a very large construction site.

Visiting Ground Zero was one of the few objectives I had for the trip. I thought it important to see the place where so many innocent lives were lost. I expected some sort of emotional response when I looked down into the hole in the ground.

But I didn’t feel anything. Nothing about the site evoked an ounce of sadness or awe or anger in me.

Maybe that’s because I never saw the towers in real life. I’d only seen them in movies or on TV. TV is also where I saw them fall. Even now, seeing video of the attacks brings tears to my eyes.

And then there’s a story that resonates with me as a Navy spouse, the story of the USS New York. Many of you have probably received this e-mail about the ship.

I think the reason I have a stronger emotional response to the story of the USS New York than to Ground Zero is that the ship symbolizes American resolve. When I saw Ground Zero, my unspoken thoughts were, ‘Why is there no new building here? Where is the memorial? It’s been 7 years.’ In many ways, the New York is the answer to both those questions.

I just hope what they eventually build there captures the American spirit just as well.

Who’s Coming Over?!

Recently I had some friends over to the house. Sounds like no big deal right? Well, there are two articles in this months Military Spouse magazine that have inspired or conspired me to write about my experience.

Although “entertaining” for most might be routine, a way to relax, even a fun experience….for me, well…at the end of a long day the last thing I usually want to do to have folks over and answer questions from the husband like “Who’s coming over? Why are they coming and what if I don’t like them?”

Well, the reason for the celebration could not be ignored which prompted this spur of the moment get together. Two friends had received promotions / new job offers, a definite cause to celebrate!

When I read Marna Krajeski’s article “Plenty of Artichoke Dip” in the July 08 issue of MSM, she talks about entertaining and how unrealistic expectations are sometimes set by fancy magazine photo shoots capturing perfect scenes with the help of a team of photographers, designers, stylists and of course professional chefs or TV show hosts who manage amazing meals only to have the production crew clean up the mess. She writes, “There is no shame in simplicity when the intent is to relax with friends.” I love that quote.

It made me feel good reading the article, knowing just days before the husband and I had thrown together a fajita dinner for 9 people. I even made my favorite 2 step guacamole dip! (I’ll have to post that recipe in a different post.)

This brings me to the article by Thomas Litchford, “Stop the CHAOS”. He references the FLY Lady term CHAOS, Can’t Have Anyone Over Syndrome because your house is too messy. I laughed when I read this and have certainly been there when my neighbor has come over and I’ve wanted to not to let her in because my kitchen counter tops were a wreck. With 3 kids of her own, I’m sure she would understand, however I still made a point to distract her away from my kitchen.

When it came to inviting folks over, I had picked Friday night so I wouldn’t obsess over how clean or messy my house might look to my guests. Having worked all day, it was an easy way to explain why my house wasn’t ready for a photo shoot. Like Marna in the article, before the guests arrived I was running around swishing and swiping (FLY Lady term) 3 toilets.

The menu consisted of Fajitas, Margaritas, Dip and Chips, oh and a Sarah Lee strawberry cheesecake….and you know what? It was a relaxing, fun, laugh filled time. I wasn’t worried about burning something or trying out a new recipe, we were preparing something familiar. The husband worked the grill while I chopped and diced and my friend’s husbands shredded cheese. We munched on a cracker/cheese tray and some dry roasted peanuts recounting old job woes and new job possibilities.

My advice for opening your home to friends? Keep it simple and clean in 15 min. increments if you are feeling overwhelmed. In the end, spending time with friends, creating friendships, and being the friend you want to have will give you some much treasured memories!

To Buy or not to Buy?

There’s a little voice in my head that keeps telling me buying a house is a lot like jumping into a pool: you don’t know if the water is quite warm enough, but the other swimmers say it is, and you dip your foot in and it feels OK, maybe a little cool. But the only way to know for sure is to dive right in and find out for yourself.

Our first humble abode as a new Navy couple was in base housing. It was a 4-unit building, and we knew our neighbors upstairs and next door. The fourth unit was vacant—in fact, I think most of the rest of the street was vacant. We regularly got together with the other two couples to eat dinner or watch a movie. It was a GREAT experience.

But after the stress of the move-out inspection, we decided not to opt for military housing the next time. The fact that there was a 24-month waiting period played into our decision, too. So at our next duty station, we rented. We had a great house in a great location (10 minutes from the base!), but everyone kept telling us we were ‘throwing money away on rent.’

This was between 2003 and 2006, and everywhere we turned we heard friends telling us about how much the value of their home had gone up. One of our friends bought one condo to live in and another one to rent out. I knew several people in the community who were in the ‘house-flipping’ business.

Toward the end of our stay, we started hearing less cheerful chitchat: complaints about adjustable rate mortgages kicking in, difficulty finding buyers, etc. I’d like to be able to say I had foreseen the housing bubble and that that was why we stayed out of the property ownership game, but the truth is that I’m just scared—scared of home ownership.

The next time we moved, the writing was on the wall with regard to the housing bubble. There was no way we were going to buy. We rented again and listened to all the talk about foreclosures and we knew we’d made the right decision, even as we worried about those friends and fellow military families who did own homes.

But now the time has come to start thinking about our next PCS, and we’re asking ourselves that question again: to buy or not to buy? Will the market have bottomed out by the time we’re ready to move? How bad is this economic downturn we’re in?

Another Navy couple we’re good friends with recently purchased a home, and their story gives me hope that maybe we’ll be able to do it this time.

So what do all you homeowners out there have to say? How’s the water?