So cool!

Sometimes I just can't believe that I get to live in a place as beautiful and amazing as Hawaii. Look what we got to see at the beach! Sea turtles! Or "honu," as the Hawaiians say.

We have visited turtle beach a couple of times, a small beach where sea turtles congregate for whatever reason. On our most recent visit, we got to see two turtles sunning themselves on the beach, and at least a half a dozen swimming close to the shore. Is that cool or what?

This is a turtle sticking its head up out of the water, if you can't tell.

Update

I have decided that a milk protein allergy is not what is causing our diaper issues. After four full weeks of burgers without cheese, tacos without sour cream, bread without butter, no chocolate and no icecream, I saw little change. It's back to the drawing board, I suppose.

Our pediatrician said if the no-dairy diet didn't clear things up, we might want to try switching to soy formula. I'm still kind of hesitant about that, so as long as he's acting happy and growing well, we're going to stick with breastfeeding a bit longer.

Oh, and guess what I did today? I had chili for dinner with (gasp!) cheese on top.

This Place May Turn Me into a Neatfreak

I have never been one to be obsessive about cleanliness. It's one of my flaws. One of the many. But living in Hawaii is changing that about me. It's the bugs!

I can't say I wasn't warned. Anyone who knew anything about Hawaii told us, "The bugs are terrible, and the schools are terrible. Other than that, you'll love it there!" So, I knew ahead of time that critters would be a problem.

I didn't know, however, that that meant I would be greeted into my new home by a baseball-sized spindle-legged spider crawling out of the kitchen sink our first night here. I'm going into convulsions just thinking about that thing. Scott killed it. That moment was one in which I wondered how I will survive the next deployment.

The next day, though, I regretted the murder of the poor spider, as it would have been a natural predator to the MONSTROUS cockroach we discovered had made its home underneath our stove. This thing was huge, and that is said by someone who grew up in a hot, humid place where cockroaches flourish.

Not to worry...the largest gecko I have ever seen moved into our house soon thereafter and had its way with grandpa roach. It was either the gecko or the Raid sprayed blindly beneath the stove for a week that got him. Or maybe he just died of old age.

Using pesticides around the house does make me a little nervous, especially with child things around. It will only be worse when the baby is crawling around and putting things in his mouth. Here's a solution suggested to us by a public health worker: visine.

Apparently eye drops contain boric acid, which is deadly to roaches, but not harmful to people. The worker instructed us to line the perimeter of drawers and cabinets with eye drops to keep roaches out. Huh...I never would have guessed. I don't know if it really works, but it's certainly worth a try. Too bad it doesn't work on spiders and ants too, though.

Things a Military Spouse has to Put up With #2

The pet name Scott has chosen for me is one that would only be acceptable to a military spouse: Household 6. Those of who who are fortunate enough to be called "honey," "darling" or maybe "punkin" by your significant other may be wondering what in the world a household 6 is. Let me explain.
Basically, it means "the boss." In a company of soldiers, the commander (the one in charge) is called the company 6. So, I guess the one in charge of the house is called the household 6. It's not the most romantic nickname to give your wife, but I suppose it works. And many other Army wives have been dubbed the same, I'm sure.
If Scott gets invited to a night out with the boys is response is always, "Let me check with household 6." So I suppose it is a decent term-of-endearment; it is used out of love and respect.
But let me ask you this: if I'm the boss in these parts, why must I tell a certain 3-year-old to brush her teeth 36 times before she complies? And why must I request that clothes not be thrown on the floor beside the bed every single night? No, a soldier wouldn't dare ignore his commander's orders the way my troops blatantly ignore me.
I'm in charge, alright. In charge of laundry. In charge of dirty diapers. In charge of the dirt that seems to follow a pair of size 10.5 combat boots into the house.
Now don't let me complain about my husband too much. He really is a big help around the house. Unless the chore has anything to do with poop, of course.