I am one of the oldest students in most of my classes, and it shows. Sometimes, I am out of touch with the latest technology. I don’t know the lingo.

I even look old school. I come to class each day with my backpack and sack lunch. The other students come with laptops and iPads.

Luckily, they don’t mind teaching me. One of my classmates gave me an iPad tutorial and taught me to download applications specifically for our nursing courses.

If your home computer is like mine, and crashes when you need it the most, owning a portable device like the iPad is a lifesaver.

My younger peers also reminded me of an old school study tip: to use the tutors on campus and the library.

Math isn’t one of my strongest subjects and to have a tutor on campus helps me a lot. Now, instead of spending two hours on math, I spend one hour with the tutor. On days that I can’t meet the tutor, I use online tutor websites, such as www.MyMathLab.com.

As much as I feel out of place for being older than most of my classmates, my seniority can also come in handy. Most of my classmates know I am an older student and they help me out if I am struggling. On the flip side, I have something to offer them too. Some of my fellow students have told me that they look to me as motivation to do their best in school. So, if you’re like me and feeling a little self-conscious of your age – remember just because you don’t understand what younger people are saying, doesn’t mean they don’t have something valuable to say. And who knows, by listening to them you may gain their respect and in turn be able to teach them something too.

So last week, I shared with you that my littlest sweet boy, the one on the autism spectrum, had decided that it might be a good idea to kick one of his teachers while in a fit of rage. Or at least that was my interpretation of the situation. Wow. For the kid who has never had bad behaviors, I honestly had mixed emotions about the email I received from his teacher. A part of me was appalled that he would do that, but part of me was excited that he was standing up for himself. Although, you should know that in our house it is not okay for children, spectrum or neuro-typical, to be disrespectful to adults.

So as you can imagine, a meeting was called. Of course, my response was 'whenever you can meet, I will make myself available,' and I did.

The team met in the classroom and I sat down with my big green binder. It holds every bit of documentation with regard to that sweet boy and I don't go to any of his meetings without it. I pulled out his latest report card (which was excellent) and his latest Individualized Education Plan updates. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Let me pause for a minute in my story to share with you the "snakes in my head.” I walked into that meeting feeling defeated. My biggest fear was that the team would decide that sweet boy needed to be in the self-contained classroom after all. I was trying my best to remain open and positive, but that was not going well. It is difficult to walk into that situation and not feel attacked, but I was determined to figure out what was going on and make it a safe environment for sweet boy and his teacher.

I let them tell me the events as they recalled them. It happened in the classroom library. The teacher was trying to encourage sweet boy to join the rest of the class on the carpet and he became frustrated and not willing to comply. It was at that point things became a little cloudy. They seem to think that he began "stemming" (or "he just got flappy") and the effort to expel the energy met the teacher's body. The long or the short of it is that he didn't just "drop back and punt", so that is a good thing.

Another issue that I discovered during the meeting was he liked to stem (or flap) on the large vent on the wall. No doubt, it makes an amazing sound, but during instruction time stemming on the vent is a "no go." Taped to the vent was a red sheet of paper that reads, DO NOT TOUCH. Now, sweet boy has some developmental delays, but reading and colors do not fall into that category! He knows that red means stop and he can read the words. He was angry that they took away his cool place to stem and he needed to express his anger.

After they told me about several rounds of fits and sit-ins by sweet boy, I finally told the team that I really was worried that they were going to remove him from the classroom.

And then, they dropped a bomb. I was told, "We know this is the right classroom for him.  We just need your help in dealing with these behaviors that we have not seen in him before."

I was stunned. Really? Are you kidding?

We discussed some behavior modification techniques that I have used and the entrance and exit of our sweet soldier maybe playing a role in the behavior. We also discussed the fact that sweet boy has outgrown his IEP. (They are already working on new IEP for him. Wow!)

This is why I love our team, because we actually work as a team. And best of all, not only do they believe in my sweet boy, they believe in me. I walked out of that meeting feeling empowered and even gladder for this supportive group!

Strength and Courage ... sby

Day one of my New Year’s resolution to schedule more “me time” started halfway through the month of January. Better late than never, I suppose.

My original plan was to put my son in preschool. He has never had a babysitter or been away from me other than to visit family. I felt like we needed to start getting him comfortable in a school environment. However, I quickly learned one day a week of preschool costs the same as a one-month family gym membership. I had to choose.

I chose me. I chose the gym. And that meant a new morning routine for all of us.

We woke up for that first new morning at 7:30 a.m. after a night up and down tending to cranky, non-sleepy tots.

Exhausted, we all scrambled to get ready for my “free” personal training session scheduled at 9 a.m. I have a few years of experience in personal training and health coaching so I know what to do when it comes to working out, but a free session came with my membership and I figured it couldn’t hurt.

As we dashed out the door, I almost forget to feed myself and I know one of us forgot to brush our teeth, though I’m still not sure if it was me or my son. And, I didn’t get in a much-needed cup of coffee either. But in the car we went!

We barely got off base and my son was crying to go home. I explained to him our new, fun routine and the kids he will get to play with at the gym nursery. He was not convinced, I already felt guilty for being selfish and taking “me time.”

But I need this. We need this. So I kept driving.

Day care at the gym is awesome. There were a few tears but by the time I made it out of the locker room, he was playing. Sweet! Off to my workout I went.

The trainer looked like she graduated high school yesterday. After a few fumbles and mislabeling of muscle groups and exercises, I realized this girl has no idea what she is doing. So, I hurried the appointment along. Nice girl, but a waste of my time.

It’s been an hour and my mommy guilt started kicking in. I checked in at the day care and, sure enough, my oldest is hysterical. It’s almost lunch and naptime so it seems like a good time to leave.

“Me time” at the gym and two napping kids - could I be so lucky?

No. The rest of our day was a nightmare. 

No naps and total meltdowns by both boys. And, is it possible to catch cooties after one day in daycare because while putting the baby to bed he sounded congested and snotty.

The rest of the day was a blur. I didn’t even shower until I was ready to crawl in bed. I thought to myself, “am I supposed to do this all over again tomorrow?”

Yes.

I remind myself this is new for all of us and it will take time to get used to. I cannot give up yet.

Giving up is too easy.

So, with the little energy I had left, I pack our bags and get ready for tomorrow.  I had gone through much harder things during the course of our military life and survived. One bad day was not going to stop me.

Sometimes, as a military wife and mom, I feel like I am preparing for my own war every day.  I am not sure what the day will bring but all I can do is prepare for the worst and hope for the best.

But one thing is for sure. I can never, ever give up.

Day two, bring it on!

“I’ve had it with him. I’ve had it with the Army. I asked him for a divorce, he said yes.”

My friend whispered the above statement into the phone for fear her kids would enter the room.

I was flabbergasted and horrified - kind of. After so many years married to the Army, this was definitely not the first time I had heard this phrase uttered into a hushed phone conversation.

She was on the verge of buying tickets back to the mainland. What made this situation even more dangerous - she could afford to do it. While many of us would be forced to stay until at least the next payday, this friend could head to the airport tomorrow and never be heard from again.

And being rash wasn’t going to solve her problem.

It never does.

Too often we have seen dear friends, military couples, separate in a huff after too much time apart, too many long hours at work and too much strain on a one-parent homefront. Being a military spouse, at times, isn’t much fun.

When military members refuse to sit still long enough to address the issue, or gasp, see a therapist, often all is lost. 

We’ve all been there. Roughly 13 months into a 15-month deployment I was ready to walk away. I have vowed loudly and obnoxiously that I hate the Army and all the trappings of the life of a military spouse. I have yelled at my husband and blamed him and his uniform for all that ailed me.

The key, I think, is that when you are done yelling, stop and pause. Hastily made decisions are hard to undue in the military. Leaving your spouse involves his command, the local JAG office and lots of other people you don’t necessarily won’t digging around in your business.

Once you take a day or two to assess your situation and what is best for your future, move forward. But taking those few days to really think it over can mean the difference between a future that is prosperous and one that is rife with red tape and knots leading back to the military life you were trying to leave.

Need to talk it out? Military One Source has counselors on the phone 24 hours a day. I’ve called them, bawled and spewed long, almost nonsensical explanations of the situation at hand. And they, listened, without judgment.

If you find yourself on the verge of making a rash decision, stop and pause. Call your neighbor, call your friend. Call Military One Source. Whatever you do, give yourself enough time to do what is right for you and your situation.

Sure, there’s a plane leaving in three hours. But there’s one again tomorrow and the next day and the next day. If that is where you need to be, you will get there. And when you do, you will know it is the right decision and not a knee-jerk reaction.

Military One Source  1-800-342-9647

"It's all fun and games until someone kicks the teacher!"

It is the email that I have been dreading since the school year began and my only hesitation with putting that littlest sweet boy in a general education classroom.

To my absolute horror, littlest sweet boy, who is on the autism spectrum, became upset at his paraprofessional, and then, he kicked her. Ugh!

I admit to you that panic set in my mind. I don't want my sweet boy to be removed from his classroom. He has become a completely new little boy this year and I credit that to our team of amazing teachers and paraprofessionals.

"I won't give up on us (no I'm not giving up)

God knows I'm tough enough (I am tough, I am loved)

We've got a lot to learn (we're alive, we are loved)

God knows we're worth it (and we're worth it)"

But don't worry, sweet boy! I won't give up! We are going to figure out what is going on and I am fighting for you!

Strength and Courage ... sby

I didn’t realize how much I am out of the loop until I went back to school. I thought I knew all the latest lingo and styles. Nope. I’m now considered … old.

When I first decided to go back to school to earn my nursing degree I didn’t consider the possibility that I would be one of the oldest people in the class. But I am. And it can be hard and frustrating at times.

While I’m busy taking notes and making sure that my homework is completed on time, I hear laughter behind me, cell phones vibrating and music blaring from someone’s headset. Each is a total distraction.

There was one student in particular who was very difficult. He didn’t care about school and only went because his parents paid his tuition. During class he was very rude and distracting. He often came to class late.

I knew there were people trying to get into this class but they couldn’t because it was full. They were forced to wait until someone dropped out. The teacher never addressed this student’s bad behavior despite complaints from other students in the class. His distractions were affecting everyone’s work.

So I decided to do something. I pulled him to the side and had a little chat with him.

I asked him why he would take a class that he has no desire to learn in. His answer was that he thought it would be an easy A. So I explained to him how his distractions during class not only hurt me but everyone else in the class as well. I suggested that he consider picking a class he is more interested in.

He looked at me, used some vulgar language and walked away. Eventually the teacher did drop him from the class.

Afterwards, I could only think, I hope my children never act like that, in school or any place else.

You would think that college would be exciting and that people will be friendlier. Don’t get me wrong, for the most part it is. But there is a section of the student body that makes it no fun at all.

I have made some friends in college and even though I’m older than most of them, they look up to me. They ask for advice on school and study habits and I learn from them too.

Despite the generation gap, college has been a great experience. It’s never too late to learn!

And there you have it. My official diagnosis: mental obesity.

MSNBC business writer has nailed all of my symptoms: scatterbrained, fried feeling, exhausted. I thought it was the absolute lack of sleep and my five children harassing me 23 of the 24 hours a day. But no, it appears as though I am spending too much time trying to take too much stuff into my brain.

The solution: turn it off.

Um, boss, does this mean I can get the week off?

All of our higher ups would probably look at us a little crazy if we requested time off to fight the extra weight on our brains, but I’m thinking they all would understand.

The article  explains that people today are too busy gathering as much information as they can without taking time to actually digest it.

I’m guessing it is a bit like being 5 years old and eating as much ice cream, as quickly as possible before mom walks in and catches you. What do you always get with a lot of cold, quick ice cream? A headache.

The solution for too much info? Walk away.

This article suggests that the world will not fall apart if we do not vigorously check our email every few minutes, update our Facebook post with each step and look over every text the moment we hear the alert. And, gasp, it is right.

Time off is good. Time away from the screen is better. After I read the article, I walked away from my computer for almost an entire day. Sure, it hurt. Absolutely, I felt like I was missing out. But by dinnertime I felt almost, free.

So I’m back in front of the screen today to tell you to give it a try too. You can email me or send me a text to know how it went. But don’t be surprised if I don’t answer right away. I may just be out, exercising my brain.

We knew this day was coming, but now, it is here.

The sitter was at the house at 5:30 in the morning and I had hoped that the kids wouldn't wake up. They had said their goodbyes before bed the night before.

But the oldest sweet boy was awake and as he clutched his father for the last time (at least for a little while), I could feel my little boy's heart break. My sweet soldier reassured him that this really was "see you soon," and he and I were off to the airport.

I feel like my civilian friends often wonder what my sweet soldier and I talk about in this situation.

During the 30-minute ride to the airport we talked about how much deployments had changed. We talked about how much easier it was to say, "See you soon," back when the kids didn't fully understand what was happening. We talked about potty training that youngest sweet boy. It was a fairly standard conversation for us.

I took a deep breath as I pulled into the "kiss and go" lane at the airport. I generally do not go into the airport with him. That is the way we do things and everyone does it differently.

He pulled his bags out of the back of my Suburban and I held him tight. I am going to be honest. It does not matter how soon I will see him again. I still hug him like it will be the last time. I still look in his eyes like it will be the last time. I still tell him "I love you" like it is the last sentence he will ever hear me utter. It may sound crazy, but my sisters in arms know what I mean.

The airport in our town is small, so I could see him through the building windows. I waited for his text. He was good to go through security.

I pulled away from the curb as I have done many times before. I plugged in my phone to listen to my music and I felt the one (or two) tears fall. As I made my way home in the dark, I realized that as much as I love this life, sometimes, I just can't stand it.

I opened the door to the house. I loved on my kids. I began to put away the remnants of Christmas and I readied myself for the downward slope of this deployment.

Strength and Courage ... sby

Congress may have avoided falling off the so-called fiscal cliff last week but the vote did little more than delay what could be a very painful drop for the Department of Defense and military families around the world.

Last week Pentagon Press secretary George E. Little told reporters the budget process is “highly problematic” for the DOD.

The American Forces Press Service reports that the cuts that would take affect if Congress fails to act by March 1.

The cuts, called sequestration, could include reduction in funds for the war in Afghanistan and training for troops deploying to the frontline. On the home front, commissaries may close earlier, civilian doctors who serve military families may receive payments later and thousands of civilian workers will see their jobs changed, if not cut altogether. 

While officials are scrambling to determine how much damage the sequestration could cause there is some clarity.

Stars and Stripes reported in December that a presidential order issued in July prohibits military salaries or benefits to be cut as a result of sequestration. Civilian workers, however, and every other aspect of Pentagon business, are on the chopping block.

Want to read more? Check out:

http://www.defense.gov/news/newsarticle.aspx?id=118941

http://www.stripes.com/news/pentagon-finally-planning-for-sequestration-cuts-amid-political-standoff-1.199472

After 20 children and their teachers were gunned down in Newtown, Conn., I spent hours tearfully watching the coverage and asking, as many Americans did, why?

I could barely look at my own nearly 6-year-old without feeling a twinge of guilt over the fact that I could scoop him up in a cascade of kisses and laughter while these families were feeling unimaginable pain.

On our first day back to school after Christmas break, while moms everywhere posted on their Facebook status that they were excited to finally get their kids out of the house and back to school, I could only think about the parents in Newtown. This was the first of many milestones that would march on without them as constant reminders of the lives lost.

Then, the fights over gun control began: in the media, on Facebook, in the commissary line.

I’m not going to enter that fray. I’m not going to argue with you, dear reader, over what the Constitution guarantees us, what types of weapons you or I should be allowed to posses or what kinds of restrictions should be placed on buyers.

I have a very strong opinion on this topic. But frankly, you are not the one who needs to hear it.

What I am going to tell you is that whatever your opinion, you need to speak up. Not to me, not to your neighbor, don’t shout it in capital letters on your Facebook wall. Tell your Congressman.

Clearly, action is going to be taken. This tragedy has brought the issue to the top of our legislators’ list of priorities. Their job is to represent you. It is your right to express your opinion and their duty to listen, determine what the majority of their constituents want and then fight to make it happen.

Tomorrow morning, my representatives are going to receive a thoughtful but very strongly worded letter in their inbox from me. Personally, I want change and I’m going to the men and women who I hope can make it happen.

You can scream and complain about the way this nation is run but until you actually take part in the process, a process that was designed to be led by the people and for the people, you’re just wasting your time.

America is not easy. We have a lot of very tough issues to untangle. But until we start taking part in the process, and helping to come to a solution, we really are just compounding the problem.

Speak up. Be heard. This is your nation. Don’t sit on the sidelines and complain about the decisions that were made. Instead, help make them.

Need to know how to contact your elected leaders? Visit:

http://www.usa.gov/Contact/Elected.shtml