The Air Force Ball

Whew. We are back from a little road trip through America's dairyland (HAHAHA at this little post I wrote about giving up dairy), and there is just too much to talk about. I have been crafting posts in my head for about five days because I am wildly sleep-deprived and over-caffeinated, so that's what I'm into lately. I'll start at the top. As I mentioned in my previous post, Will and I were looking forward to getting all schmancy on Saturday to go to our first Air Force Ball. 

First of all, let me just say, I was worried about the prospect of squeezing into my gown. My only formal piece of clothing. A bridesmaid dress that I've worn at least three times. While the number on the scale is the same as pre-baby, apparently the soft tissue of the abdomen area has done some migrating around. I thought I could make do, since like I said, I'd worn this particular dress a few times. I figured it would be a little stretched out, maybe I could pump up to the very last second and then suck it in for a few hours. 

It'd be fine, right?

Well, as these things go, last week little Will wasn't napping, the temp was gloriously in the 60s, and my white-girl-in-the-Fall-ness took over. I was like OMG PUMPKIN!!!! and so  . . . 

I spent an afternoon in the kitchen.

GIVE ME ALL THE PUMPKINS.

These babes were a real obstacle to the ascent of any zippers. Kallah gave me her modified recipe from here. (Just substitute melted butter for vegetable oil, organic maple syrup for sugar, and use whole wheat flour.) The substitutions take the guilt down a couple of notches, but it doesn't help when you feel "justified" in having like ten cookies instead of two.  

Oh well.

My second obstacle was my hair. I wanted to go extra formal with an updo (especially if I had to go with a less formal knee-length dress, if I couldn't let out enough air to squeeze things in just right), so I took to Pinterest, because you know I am not about hiring a professional. I came across this image:

Easier than it looks! That's right up my alley. 

Of course Kate makes it seem easier than it looks, but when you try and do it yourself with your t-rex arms, it's more along the lines of just plain hard. 

Alas, I ended up with . . . 

Strange swirlness. . . I don't even know.

I wouldn't call it a #FAIL, but something more along the lines of #CLOSEENOUGH. A woman at the ball even asked me where I got my hair done (yes, I was way too excited about her asking), so maybe you'd call it a #WIN. Or, she was just trying to determine which hair salon to avoid. I know I should have stopped using hashtags about four sentences ago. Forgive me. Sometimes I try too hard to be clever.

Here is the side view, showing off the thirty minute ordeal that was that little braid, oh, and my earrings:

I would normally crop such a photo, but the football game and the breast pump in the background is just too perf.

I spent basically the entire afternoon getting ready and/or caring for Will and/or taking selfies to send to my mom to ask, "ARE YOU SURE IT LOOKS OKAY?!" Seventy-three bobby pins were carefully affixed upon my noggin, my abdomen was laboriously deflated and precariously squeeeeezed into my overpriced gown, and we finally headed out the door. We dropped baby Will off with some friends and snapped a quick family gem:

Little Will is not impressed with any of our tired efforts.

Anyway . . . Indeed, we had fun! We knew going into it that there wasn't going to be a lot of food. They were serving heavy hors d'oeurves (<--- much too difficult a word to spell, America), which was fine with me because I wasn't fitting any food in there. There was a cash bar, thank goodness. I needed the social lubrication. The theme was "Today's Heros, Tomorrow's Legacy." Some badass servicemembers were honored, of course. Then there was the band that played a few songs . . . 

. . . until they switched to a DJ who played every hip hop line dance (is that what you'd call them?) under the sun. I was taken back to my college laxer days when we would warm up for the warm up by doing the Cupid Shuffle. It was a very serious ritual where every member of the team had to be present. Team sports can be so weird. In a good way. 

I even managed to coax a sober Will Brez onto the dance floor.

Still clings to winning a 5th grade dance-off. Wanted to retire his dance skills on a "high note."

The highlight of the night was when we won a door raffle. Basically, they were going through the prizes (e.g., fast food gift cards, etc.) that were all "meh". . . but our ears perked up when they announced a $50 Schlafly gift card. Craft beer enthusiasts here, as you know. We've already done the Schlafly tour and eaten at their restaurant, as documented on someone else's blog entirely. And we won it! I was probably too embarrassingly excited when I went up in front of everybody to retrieve our prize, but I didn't care. I think I may have raised the roof. I smell a date night like blood in the water . . . . 

Things got real crazy when the mess dress jackets came off and we were introduced to the phenomenon that is party sleeves. A mullet in shirt form that may only be purchased in Korea. 

Thus concludes the story of our first Air Force Ball. 'Twas a night full of surprises.

We Can Make It

Two more weeks! Two more weeks! TWO-POINT-FIVE-MORE-WEEKS! 

. . . until Lent is over and I can have my husband back. I wanted to do some other things during Lent, like make it to daily mass and exercise more, you know, things of my choosing, but really I think God sees my sacrifice of sleep and spousal companionship and sees that it is very good. Not quite Genesis status good, but good nonetheless. 

Two more weeks. (In times like these, we round down, amirite?) I'm choosing to see this as a glass-half-full thing today because I got a couple good nights of sleep. In. A. Row. Woot! Don't get me wrong. This past week saw some moments where I told Will, "you are getting out of the military! I can't do this ever again! HALP." But then I got four hours of sleep or something and all is well. I think I said last night something along the lines of, "when you become TJAG . . . ." So yeah. Tiger Wife is back. (However, note that tigers need sleep, too.)

Reflection Time: In general I don't feel like a "military spouse." I mean, I've seen a couple episodes of Army Wives. And their struggles - they aren't mine. I guess it's easy to feel that way when you're husband is a JAG. He doesn't carry a gun or get shot at. (Though he does get tazed, apparently.) If he ever were to deploy somewhere, he would probably never have to leave air conditioning. Those airmen and their climate control. And he's NOT deployed. There's that. That's a big one. But, hey. My husband has been away at training for seven straight weeks and I'm up in here with a newborn and two psycho poop-eating dogs, so I reserve the right to give myself a pat on the back. Or, like, an excuse to not have the most zealous Lent ever.

This experience has made me feel like more a part of the AF community, though. These are good people. And I'm not just saying that because the cashiers at the Commissary know way too much about my life. (I get a little chatty in the checkout line, what can I say?) Will's boss calls to check up on how things are going while he's away. His coworkers stop by to drop off food. There was the great cupcake mystery. And then, there was this . . . 

An old high school friend who is in the Air Force sent us this crocheted Air Force bomber jacket for the bambino, and dare I say, it's the cutest thing we've ever seen. As Will said when I texted him a picture . . . "THIS WINS EVERYTHING!" So thoughtful and so cute. Thank you, thank you, Jen! 

The Takeaway: (1) We can make it two more weeks; (2) the Air Force community is the best out there; and (3) if I have to shoulder all the sleep deprivation of our first baby's first two months of life, then, yeah, it doesn't hurt to watch Will B. get tazed a few (dozen) times just for kicks. (Just go watch it. You will laugh, too.)

"We can dooooo it. Bliggity blerg."

The Nursery

There's nothing like a three-day weekend to scratch those final pesky to-do's off your list, or in other words, to get your husband to do stuff for you. Without further ado, here is the completed nursery . . . 

All together now, breathe a sigh of relief. Ahhhhhh. 

We went with an Air Force aviator themed nursery as Baby Brez is named after his great-grandfather, William Hugh, who flew B-17s during WWII, and, of course, my hubs William Patrick, just joined the U.S. Air Force (though he prefers being flown to flying). (We can't forget, also, that Baby Brez is named after my own dad and brother, who are both named William as well. It's not weird or confusing, just an awesome name. Maybe we'll go all George Foreman and name all our future sons William.) 

I think perhaps they bear a slight resemblance? Eh? 

Willy Hugh on the left in the 1940s. Willy Patrick on the right at our wedding in 2010. 

Just a little.

It's the chin.

Now that we understand all the onomastics of Baby Brez (don't think I'm smart - I happened to watch a NatGeo special on King Arthur today and learned this word, ahem . . .) and the motivation behind the choice of theme, we can get down to the gritty decor details. 

At the entrance of the room, Will spray painted and hung some old shelves (formerly espresso brown). He also spray painted the letters, which were originally bright pink, blue, and green (from the baby shower), and displayed them with some toy planes that were also leftover decor from the baby shower.

This rocking chair below, given to us a few years ago by Will's parents, was also a dark brown. Will spray painted it white and we added a cushion that would match the gray crib. 

The model B-17 and the B-17 sketch above the closet were also given to us by Will's parents. 

We found the nightstand for $8 at Goodwill and spray painted it to match the rocker and shelves shown above. The B-17 sketch above the crib is a very light poster board material, also something gifted to us by Will's parents that they had lying around in storage. 

On the other side of the room is some storage and a changing table.

You are probably wondering what the heck that window pane thing is. It was a crazy thoughtful and creative Christmas gift from Chris and Rachel, Will's brother and sister in law, who made it with a screen printing contraption that they own. 

On the back of the window pane is a message from Chris and Rach and Will's grandfather's cadet identification card (I believe they just found it online somewhere) containing his actual signature used to create the screen print on the window. Pretty incredible! 

A mother can only hope and dream that her son will have such lovely penmanship.

Below is a cube organizer containing some storage (currently lots and lots of tiny baby socks and some extra sheets). On the backs of five of the cubes, I glued flight maps given to us by Will's late uncle Danny, who was an Air Force vet and air traffic controller. Each map is of an area we've lived: Washington, DC, Daytona Beach, Charlotte, and South Florida.

I stenciled and painted the military alphabet onto another flight map of Florida given to us by Uncle Danny. This was Pinterest inspired . . . so instead of paying $30+ for a couple 8x10 prints, I made this huge poster for about $3 (for stencils and paint).

The boy's potential going-home outfit occupies the changing table . . .

Starting him off on the Momma's Boy track early by making him wear the words "I LOVE MOMMY" across his days old chest and forcing him into baby Uggs. What can I say.

This pair of framed vintage plane prints were nabbed at HomeGoods on a random "let's see if they have anything cute for the nursery" outing while we were still in Florida.

And finally a shot with more detail of the crib, where our dear child will always be watched over, whether it's by Jesus, his controlling parents via video monitor, or the badass Air Force bear. Observe:

We're alwayyssss watching.

Clearly means business.

For inquiring minds, of the items we purchased:

Crib - Walmart

Rug - Overstock.com

Cube Organizer - Target

Changing Table - Amazon

Vintage Plane Framed Photos - HomeGoods

Rocker Seat Cushion - World Market

Red Humidifier - Target

Curtains - Target

Hasta luego. 

Meet Me in St. Louis

If you've been anywhere in my vicinity in the past two months, you've probably heard me whining, wondering, speculating where on Earth we'd be living for the next two years. I try to keep this blog a happy, cheerful space, where dogs can wear spectacles and I can discuss every minute detail of my pregnancy. As a result, I've failed to update the blog regarding the saga that is the first base assignment. The drought ends now. 

The story starts ages and ages ago. It was some time in early September when Will notified JAG headquarters that he had passed all legal licensing requirements and was good to go active duty. He was told he probably wouldn't go active duty until November 1, and as we were thinking he would go active duty in October, we were a little disappointed. (Ha!) My last day of clerking was August 30, so we were both rearin' and ready to move out of South Florida and get this military lifestyle show on the road.

Then there was some dragging of feet. . . . Then there was a government shutdown. . . . We moved out of our apartment, put our belongings in storage, and became traveling gypsies. (Okay, we've basically been living with Will's parents, but I prefer the term "extended stay.") November 1 of course came and passed. As did November 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th, not just without Will going active duty, but with no news of even where we would end up. I was getting pretty anxious about where I would be giving birth to this baby. Will was just anxious in general from sitting on our hands for so long. Things were getting a little hairy after being told over and over for weeks that base assignment news was imminent. Finally, on Wednesday we finally found out where we will be living the next two years!

St. Louis, here we come. 

(And we'll be there sooner than we thought.)

Source. 

Will is actually assigned to Scott AFB in Illinois, just east of St. Louis. We don't know yet if we'll be living on-base or off, or how long it will take to find a place to live, but we do know that we will get to enjoy Thanksgiving with our family and should be nice and settled in before the Christmas holiday. Praise. The. Lord.

There is some slightly bad news. Will must go to JASOC (JAG training) in Alabama from February 18 to April 18. Our due date is February 19. But it's fiiiine, right? I hear the first two months are the easiest, right? RIGHT?! I'm sure Daisy and Ace will do more than enough to help me take care of the baby!

Right???????????

It really will be okay. We knew this JAG School timeline was a strong possibility and the grandmas are already lining up their trips to St. Louis. I also have a cousin in the St. Louis area who will help out as much as she can. Oh, and I also hear that babies can come early? (Pretty please? My momma never delivered past her due date, so . . . fingers crossed.) And Will should be able to come home for a few weekends over the two month training. 

So you know what? We are looking forward to life in the midwest! Four distinct seasons? Count us in. (We know it's cold there, but you know what? 90 degree weather in November ain't no picnic either!) As some people say, midwest is best. Boots and scarves be mine.

Proud Tiger Wife Presents... United States Air Force Commissioning

Ever since I've known Will (over six years now - weird!), he's always had a lot of admiration for people serving in the military. If Top Gun or A Few Good Men is showing on TNT or USA, hold on to those afternoon plans, because we're not moving until the final scene airs. (At first I thought it was just a Tom Cruise thing, but now I know better. No, wait, it is kind of a Tom Cruise thing.)

Will and I spent a year apart while I finished my senior year of college and he moved back home to Daytona Beach. We met in the middle a few times in Savannah, and he would always point out the Mighty Eighth Air Force Museum from the highway and talk about his grandfather, who he happens to be named after. His grandfather flew B17 bombers in World War II, retiring as a Captain. He was a proud Air Force man. Will would always talk about how he would don his Mighty Eighth cap wherever he went until the day he died.

But the opportunity to serve really never came up for Will. After high school, Will was fortunate enough to earn a scholarship playing college baseball. There, he happened to meet his super hot future wife. And you know how I talked him into law school, not commissioned officer training. 

During Will's 1L year (and my 2L year, obviously), Will mentioned JAG to me for the first time. The tables had turned! We both ended up attending a seminar held at the law school with a panel of JAGs from across all branches to see what it was all about. (Okay, I really just went for the free lunch, but Will was really into it. I promise.) 

That summer, I worked at the Department of Justice in D.C. with a lot of former JAGs. As part of that internship, we went to an Air Force disciplinary hearing and toured Andrews Air Force Base. At that point I was like, okay, let's do this. I ended up applying to the Direct Appointment Program the fall of my 3L year and Will applied to the One Year College Program shortly thereafter (his 2L fall). 

We were galavanting through Ireland that October when I checked my voicemail and it was the JAG I interviewed with. I thought there must have been a problem with my application materials (the application process is super lengthy) so I called back right away. She informed me that I was selected! We drank Budweisers in Dublin that night, because, AMERICA! The following spring, Will was in New York City for a moot court competition and got the call on the New York subway that he had been selected! I happened to be in a meeting at the time when he called with the news. I was wearing an Air Force t-shirt and started crying and sweating profusely. Not embarrassing. We were going to be JAGs together! Except not. Every JAG selection is contingent on being medically cleared and passing the bar exam. I submitted my medical records and got rejected. C'est la vie. 

But you know who wasn't rejected? And who went on to complete ALL the requirements of ROTC in a year and a half. (You may not know what those are—I barely do—but suffice it to say: it's crazy.) And so, the day after law school graduation, Will commissioned as an officer in the World's Greatest Air Force.

The venue for the ceremony at Homestead Air Reserve Base was spectacular. Don't trust me, see for yourself. ("Look, look with your special eyes!")

Just the largest American flag you have ever seen and your average everyday F-16.

Just behind the hangar (outside that door to the hangar in the first photograph above) were more F-16s. Lots of F-16s.

The eight men commissioning sat on-stage. (By the way, the cadet MCing did a great job!) At the start of the ceremony, my dad asked "WHAT! WHERE THE HECK IS THE AMERICAN FLAG??" We were all like, "Huh? There's one right there....?" (????)

Yeah, he got us all. 

Will was the third cadet called. His detachment Captain gave him the Oath of Office.

Then Will's parents and I were called up to pin on his Second Lieutenant ranks. My moment of truth.

Nailed it.

Self-proclaimed record-holder for fastest pinning-on ever. I am smiling at my dad in the photo below because he was teasing me about messing up before I went up there. Typical Billy Nolan.

For inquiring minds, the dress is J.Crew Factory. It's still on sale!

Once we were escorted off-stage, Will received his first salute from Sergeant Knox.

Then he had the opportunity to give a one minute speech. He talked about living up to his grandfather's example and thanked everyone for their support to get him to this point.

After all the officers were commissioned, the Detachment's Lieutenant-Colonel gave each 2Lt two coins: one for the detachment and the other for becoming an airman. 

And, of course, a salute was given by each in response. 

I love this photo because I know Will is on the verge of laughing right here. He held it together. 

Afterwards, there were lots of photo ops.

With my parents.

With some lovely law school friends!

With his godson, Ethan.

Will's mom and my mom. Happy Mother's Day!

With his dad, Ned.

And finally, a closeup of Ned's tie, an homage to Will's grandfather.

FLY FIGHT WIN