Lessons Learned (and other lingo); or, Roots and Vines

Between my background in education and my present location on a military base, I am well versed in jargon. Education changes every few years---let's just repackage and recycle (and sell for big, big bucks) a new trend, and watch everyone learn the lingo: if you are meeting in your professional learning community while engaging in standards based mapping, all while covering constructivism (or is it metacognition?), I feel your pain. Oops, there goes another paradigm shift! You must learn new lingo.

At least with the military, an acronym is usually around forever, and the jargon doesn't really change with whichever way the wind blows. If it were FUBAR in 1970, well, it's still FUBAR today. And if you are familiar with OPSEC, that holds true here---thus no names and pictures of my family or several places on the base on my blog.

So this morning, upon realizing that I wanted to write about "lessons learned," I felt the need to jab a pencil in my eyeball. What has happened to me? I used to snicker at the term that is really, really overused in the military, and now I'm using it.

That being said, I've reflected on some lessons of recent times and had an epiphany or two that I'd like to share:

ONE: My youngest is really, REALLY allergic to the skin and sap of mangoes.
One trip to the pediatrician, one trip to the ER, and a frustrating trip to the NEX later, we are going to have to go with homemade remedies since Benadryl and Caladryl are all we have here (and are not getting the job done). I mentioned this before, but the same chemical in poison ivy is in the sap of mangoes.
I'm up for any suggestions. I am very ignorant of what to do since I'm not allergic to anything, dermatologically speaking (but pretty much all antibiotics---I would trade, trust me).

TWO: One trip really can change your life forever.
I went to Cuernavaca, Mexico, for a summer abroad studying at Cemanahuac Language Institute while an undergrad, and I met a group of people who have forever changed my life. Two of the group were BRATS---as in a Military (AF) Brat, and an Aramco Brat. Hearing their stories about traveling and seeing the world at a young age, and seeing the amount of freedom they had---all while living in a close-knit community---is something that I believe led me here today.  From that point on I have had a sense of needing to do more than just settle in one place---especially when there is a huge world out there to explore and see and places where you can do this and raise kids at the same time.
Another of the group was a little older than the rest of us, so I looked to her for advice---and when I found myself going through a difficult time and more or less homeless (by my own doing and choice), she helped me see there is a light at the end of the tunnel.
Then there there was my Mexico roommate who said, "My sister is looking for someone to split her rent, let me give her a call." And just like that, a total stranger became my roommate (and friend), and those sisters and their family really took me in. Best thing about their mom? She lived close by and grew up in New Orleans---and like most New Orleans ladies, she can COOK---so it wasn't anything to have the doorbell ring and her show up with a big pan of jambalaya because "I just thought you kids might be hungry."

Although I didn't get a pan of jambalaya at my doorstep, I did get a couple of very nice care packages from the same lady recently. I can't even tell you how flattered and humbled I am that she thought about me,  and she was generous beyond measure. Let's just say that she, also, has changed my life for the better.  I am thankful that she has also remained a part of my life.

One more tidbit from that trip---the AF Brat is now my husband of almost 20 years.  Not too shabby, considering that was the last thing I was looking for when we all became friends.



And like that butterfly causing a hurricane in chaos theory,  one short semester with strangers 23 years ago caused a lifetime of connections and consequences that continue to this very day. You never know what roots and vines are going to spring from one place you all hold dear in your heart.

THREE: I hate the word "staycation." Like all education jargon, some military phrases, and the words "puce," "goiter," "mucus," "gullet," and the phrase "fair and balanced," it should be struck from the English language. Forever.

So instead I'm going to describe my Spring Break as a stay-at-home-vacation. The grandparents came to visit! We were very happy to host our first visitors, my parents, to our tiny little slice of this lovely island. We did pottery. We collected sea glass and sea shells. We gathered seeds (if you think I'm a gatherer, you need to meet my mama). We ate at most of the base restaurants (that would be six of the eight). We went bowling. We drove around and took lots of pictures of the ocean, the kids, the kids in front of the ocean, the kids in the ocean, etc. We visited and chilled out and had a wonderful time. They are travelers and adventurers, so they didn't scoff when I suggested going out at night and looking for hutias as a form of fun family entertainment (actually, it was my mom's idea).

They were also there when our oldest officially became a certified SCUBA diver!!! Yay! We had a wonderful time, and I am eternally grateful for my parents who made the tremendous effort to visit. Two sets of forms, two sets of tickets, the run-around from everyone, a ridiculous expense, and dealing with military bureaucracy and military rules (and jargon) as a civilian are all not easy tasks.

It was a wonderful Spring Break, indeed. And now. . . the downhill slide until summer break. No furloughs this school year, so we are looking at approximately nine weeks until we are on real vacation (not just living-in-paradise-and-working vacation).