Tsunami Evacuation


Rocks are exposed in our bay 20 mins before our first wave of the tsunami reaches shore.  The extremely low tide and our fringing reef prevented damage to Guam.



Biding our time outside the gate of the Naval Hospital.  Gates were locked, so all we could do was park and wait it out.  The beach ball made for a bit of family soccer fun, with 3 hours to kill, we were glad to have it in the car.



We took every precaution and drove to higher ground to wait out the tsunami warning period.  Kids were bouncing off the car walls in no time, but great sports about it all.  It's good for them to know that in an emergency, you do what you have to do, and do it quickly.



Our hearts go out to our island neighbors in Japan.  A 9.0 magnitude earthquake, a devastating tsunami, followed by a nuclear crisis that has us checking the news headlines daily, even two weeks later, is simply heart-breaking.  



The sheer magnitude of the devastation has left millions homeless, rescue workers exhausted, and entire cities in a crippling state of emergency.  Some of the elderly who remember desperate WWII conditions are experiencing a haunting sense of deja vu. 



Despite continued "no human health risk" press releases, from our government as well as Japan's, and a completely voluntary, "overly-cautious" evacuation of US military spouses and children (many of whom are now in Guam), Tokyo's water supply is contaminated, more and more foods are reading positive for radiation, and Moms are desperate to find bottled water for their children and babies, while store-keepers explain that they have no idea when their next supplies will arrive. 



All the while, radioactive smoke continues to billow from the damaged reactors, sending plumes who-knows-where.  As Japan's neighbor, I do wish that the winds would stop blowing south-east, towards Guam!!!  As we hear of higher-than-normal radiation readings in California, so far away, I can't help but worry about us, much, much closer to Fukushima.  If the reactors were in Perth, and we were in Adelaide or Darwin, would I be concerned about winds blowing our way?  Heck, yes.  And that's the distance we are from Fukushima.



Also worrying is the government's concern that fear of radiation exposure causes more damage than actual exposure.  Really?  Can I just re-read that?  So would they tell us if Guam was at risk?  What happens when you tell the population of a small island that there may be radioactive particles in their wind or rain, in the air they are breathing and their children are breathing.  What happens if the population of an island panics?  You have 8 miles one way, and 22 miles the other way to run.  I imagine the people of Fukushima and surrounding prefectures are feeling are feeling all of that with so much more intensity; not really sure if the government is being transparent in it's facts, not really sure if their health is at risk, and no-where to run anyway. 



So, as much as I wanted this blog to be about our evacuation during the tsunami warning period, and focused on our little family, my heart is really heavy with concern for our neighbors in Japan. 

How brave are the workers who are working day in and day out to prevent the meltdown that would worsen the current radioactive risk into a worldwide catastrophe?  How strong are the rescue teams working with lack of food, water, fuel, and warmth, through snow drifts, searching for trapped victims with hope in their hearts?  How admirable are the people of Japan as they face their darkest hour with calm resolve? 



I had to google the quote below... I have heard it so many times, and I wondered if it was from a bible verse.  It turns out that it is not, it is a quote from Mother Theresa:
"I know God will not give me anything I can't handle. I just wish that He didn't trust me so much". 
It turns out, God trusts Japan. 

Valentine's Day Wake-up Call
 

Jana proudly wrote her own name for all her preschool friends



12:08 a.m. Kai, in my room:  "Mommy, I can't sleep.  Can you snuggle me?". 
Me: "Okay, Kai, I'll come sleep in your room".

5:04 a.m. Kai, in Kai's room:  "Mommy, is it morning yet?"
Me: "No, Kai.  Not even the roosters are awake yet.  Go back to sleep."

5:05 a.m. Kai: "Mommy, can I get up yet?"
"No.  Go back to sleep."

5:06 a.m. Kai: "Is Daddy up yet?"


"My kindy friends are going to LOVE these!"



"I don't know.  It's too early.  You need to sleep. GO TO SLEEP."

5:07 a.m. Kai: Can I just go and see if Daddy's up yet?"

Me:  "Oh, gosh, Kai!  YES!  Get up, get out of here.  I want to sleep."

Kai:  " Okay," and coming over to hug me, "Happy Valentine's Day, Mommy.  I love you."

Oh boy.  What a sweetheart.  I love my kids!!!  Thank you, Kai, for reminding me what Valentine's Day is all about, even if that means getting woken up before the roosters start.



Poor sick boy...

By 5:30a.m. it was clear that poor Kai was going to miss out on his cool day at McCool School (yes, that is really its name).  He was completely under the weather with runny nose and fever.  I did consider sending him anyway, but then I can no longer whine about those bad Moms who send their sick kids to school and spread the joy around, so I had no choice.  He had to stay home. 

He was really happy about it, as you can see (yes, he got one of the hearts for posing for the shot) (okay, he got three, and before breakfast, too!).





Ask and Ye Shall Receive.... MOET!!!!

This Valentine's Day finds me on day four of my "lose 22lbs by April 29th" challenge.  So I took the bull by the horns and abandoned all hint-dropping.  It went pretty well something like this: "Jed, if you bring me chocolates, I'll kill you. But I would LOVE a bottle of Moet".  And..............      voila!                                                   

Next year I'm going to ask for a leer jet and gold Amex card.            Since I don't have a champagne glass in the house, I custom-decorated this fine crystal goblet, standing ready for the teeny golden bubbles of joy.  Cheers!                                                                Big hugs and sloppy Valentine's Day kisses to all of our amazing family and friends.  We love and miss you.                                    xoxoxoxo  Peta

Another Anniversary, Another Promotion



Marine Corps Ball, Japan, 2003 (Just married)

From meeting in Japan, marrying in Australia, honeymooning in Mexico, back to Okinawa, we eventually headed to Southern California, and then Northern California.  Now we find ourselves in Guam, part of the Marianas Island chain in the Pacific.  I need a world globe on my car dashboard just so I remember my way home each day. 






As Jed and I celebrate our eighth wedding anniversary, and tenth year together, we also celebrate a promotion.  Nine years ago, in Okinawa, I popped off Jed's Marine Corps single bars and pinned on his double ones as he promoted to Lieutenant.  This week Kai and Jana had the privilege, and this time slid on his shiny new double gold bars at a Coast Guard promotion ceremony in Guam.  Woo-hoo. 

I realize we have done a lot together, seen a lot together, and travelled a lot together. We have such a crazy, mixed up, mobile military lifestyle.

As of today, we have slept on airbeds for 5 months and 25 days, while all of our "worldly possessions" are probably baked into a melted glob in Pacific Island Movers' hot, humid storage shed somewhere here on the island.  To know that my sewing machine and art supplies, the kids' bikes and toys, the pots, pans, knives, forks, and dishes are so near and yet so far, while we continue to eat from paper plates and use plastic cutlery, and "do without" for yet another week, is challenging.  But we have each other and we have our kids.  We have our cars and our kayaks.  Jed has his surfboards.  One day I'm thinking "what more could we want?" and the next day I'm thinking I'll go crazy living like this.  But I'm grateful that we are together.  Many a military spouse has spent her wedding anniversary alone.  While we have our little family intact, we'll do without our toys, bells, and whistles a little longer.  Oh, and hey, we will definitely enjoy that pay-raise!!

Oh my gosh. My blog is so neglected.

Jana, that cute little newborn bug in a blanket in my last post, can dress herself (sometimes rather colorfully), brush her own teeth, and open and close the fridge. She does that around 567 times a day, just to prove the point.

So it's time this blog got with the times.

Kai is now six, and traded his dummy-slash-pacifier (depending on your hemisphere) for a Nintendo-Wii-Mario Bros-Sonic Colors-handheld-computer-gadgety-thingy. When we fear we've really lost him to the dark side, we head to the beach.

He must be so surprised to look up and see that Mario and Luigi have been replaced by a real, human family, and a world that is no longer made up of pixels, levels, several worlds, and mushrooms that give him special powers.

September 15th, 2007

Along comes Jana Leah ...Jana was very nearly one of those "born in the car on the way to the hospital" babies. I was laboring in the tub while Jed, who'd been recalled to duty in Alameda, drove home to Rocklin from Alameda, in the S.F. Bay Area. He got there just in time for the trip to Labor & Delivery, and 10 minutes later, there was our next beautiful baby, a girl this time, and we called her "Jana", meaning "God is Gracious".
What a cutie-pie.

November, 2004
Newbie Parents

When Kai was born, it was like a Royal Wedding. Cards and gifts flooded in, everyone turned out to see our little man, and cameras flashed in every direction. Now we all now what has happened to royal weddings after the initial rah-rah has died down, and so it was with our new baby. Jed and I found ourselves floundering a bit (well, more than a bit), and wondering why two grown-ups with college degrees and worldly experiences under their belts, couldn't manage to calm one little baby.
He was a great baby, only he cried a lot. We could quite competently feed him, change him, bathe him, and cuddle him, but sometimes we simply could not soothe him. And we had had no previous hint of just how distressing that could be. He'd go from being a content little bundle, to suddenly wailing on and on like a dumped teenage girl.
When I was still about 8 months pregnant, I'd seen a pediatrician on TV who claimed he could calm any crying baby. I'd jotted down his name, and when Kai was about a week old, I scoured the library and found his book. It helped a bit. Then, as if he was telepathically connected to his reading audience and knew we needed a bit of personal assistance, he scheduled an appearance in our area. So Jed and I bundled our 2-week-old Kai into his infant-carrier-come-car-seat and headed off to listen to what Dr. Harvey Karp had to say about calming crying babies.
Funny thing happened just after the good Dr. got up on stage and started his talk... we couldn't hear him over our crying baby! So our little man made his public stage debut at the age of 2 weeks. Dr. Karp used Kai as his guinea-pig, demonstrating how to calm a wailing newborn. If you ever run into the problem, buy his book. He's really very good. "The Happiest Baby On The Block" is the title, and he has another for toddlers (will need that soon).
In a nutshell, he talked about babies really needing an extra 3-months in the womb, but the delivery being a tad difficult if that were to happen, thus we "push 'em out prematurely" at 9 months, and should then create a womb-like environment for the next 3 months. The sudden reality-shift for our little guy after his delivery had left him unhappy, and needing a little mummy-tummy-simulation. Dr. Karp recommended 5 steps to do this:
1. Swaddle Involves wrapping the baby tightly, like a burrito.
2. Side or stomach Laying babies on their backs stimulates their falling reflexes. In turn, they can't sleep. Just have to be VERY watchful for a clear airway on their side or stomach.
3. Shhhh. Repeated in the baby's ear, like Mummy's heartbeat and rushing pulse.
4. Swing Motion, as opposed to dance-style, although the latter does a great job, too.
5. Suck. A thumb, finger, or dummy (pacifier) is the final soothing touch.

We found this worked pretty well. Our main challenge with Mr. 2-weeks-old-but-that-doesn't-mean-you-can-boss-me-around was swaddling him well enough that he little flailing hands didn't sneak out of the wrap and undo it all. For a tiny thing with a floppy head, our baby sure was a little Houdini. Jed mastered the baby-burrito wrap, and I called on him often to re-do my wraps after Kai proved he could outwit, outplay & outsmart me.

The cry-baby stage (for those unlucky souls who encounter it) usually ends at around 12 weeks. That was definitely true for us, and the closer we got to Christmas, the more sanity returned to our little household. Kai was happier and so were we.

All I want for Christmas is 5 hours sleep...
Peta

October 4, 2004

Welcome to the world, Kai.

I always thought it was the Expectant father who was supposed to pace the hospital corridors, not the mother.

Because the hospital policy was to only admit women in labour when their cervix was dilated 5 cm, I had to "kill time" until my cervix reached that magical number. Hmmm. Was something wrong? I'd really had the perfect pregnancy up until then. Absolutely no complications, and yet here I was in so much pain I was throwing up with my contractions, but they wouldn't admit me. Turns out that the baby was bearing down a little to the front of my cervix, instead of at the opening. So my contractions were painful, yet not as productive as they should have been. Midnight came and went... 1 a.m.... 2 a.m... 3 a.m... 4 a.m... until finally, around 4.30 a.m., the nurse wrote up my 4 cm dilation as 5 cm (God bless her soul!), and admitted me.

'Xcuse the pun, but I won't labour through all the details of the next 14 and a half hours. I will share that I was really, really, really determined to avoid all pain relief, but 26 hours into my labour, I reached my limits, and reluctantly asked for an epidural. It was a good decision as it turned out, although I was so disappointed with myself at the time. After the epidural, the pain of contractions was reduced so much I actually slept for a couple of hours. It was great to get some strength back with that cat-nap, and to be able to enjoy the rest of my labour, and the birth of my son. I'm sure I wouldn't have without it, so although I beat myself up for a little while, I'm so glad I opted for pain relief.

Kai came along at 7:14 p.m. on Monday, October 4th. So, from eating Chinese Saturday night, to beginning labour 10 a.m. Sunday morning, through finally being admitted to the labour-ward Monday morning, he joined us Monday night. It was a long haul. But worth every minute! And yes, I will do it again in a heart-beat, and can't wait for more babies.

Burned into my very soul, are the gurgly, chirpy, "little birdy" new-baby noises he made as he was examined and cleaned up immediately after birth. I expected the classic wailing, but he didn't cry at all; he just seemed delighted to have made it, and the sounds from him were the single cutest, most endearing, delightful noises I have ever heard.

So that was how we "met" our son, Kai Cruz.

2004... a very good year!

Peta