Welcome Home

Joy is coming to my home this weekend, and it’s bringing its friends Excitement and Peace along for the party.

Right now, as I type, they are preparing to make their journey home via bus, airplane and automobile….right after they play a football game.

blog M & N

This is what Joy looks like!

Yes, the Older One is coming home for his Spring Break from the US Military Academy at West Point. Shortly after the final snap of the Black Knights’ spring football game, he will shed his shoulder pads, trade his cadet uniform for cotton and denim and board a bus bound for JFK International Airport in New York City.

Final destination: HOME!

Meanwhile, the preparations for his arrival began a week ago. His room, vacant since January 2, when he said goodbye after Winter Break, is dusted and vacuumed. His bathroom is as shiny as low quarter shoes during a SAMI (aka Saturday AM Inspection).  Menus have been planned and grocery lists compiled.

Tonight cupcakes will be baked and pups (both Furry and Fluffy) will be bathed as I anticipate the aromatic mix of buttery vanilla and wet dog.

blog 1

I pass my time waiting by doodling.

A number of countdowns have been underway since he last walked the floors of our home. The usual Days to Go jar is happily light, and the Young one has been practicing writing X’s as she crosses days off her calendar, as well as numbers as she counts the unmarked boxes to one where I’ve written “He’s Home!”

Across town, in my office, I’ve been doodling my own countdown on my dry erase board for the past 10 days. Today’s artwork reads, “1 day!”

Welcome Home

Our airport Welcome Home signs.

The sign is ready too–the one the Young One and I drew over a year ago to welcome our favorite person home. It travels to the airport with us every time we pile into the car for this much anticipated event.  Each time, the Young One insists on holding it…until we realize the Older One is making his way toward us, then she passes it to me, so she can run to him for the first hug.

blog airport

Finally…HOME!

We’re ready.

Soon my son will be home, bringing with him a much anticipated joy, an overwhelming sense of excitement, and a quietly beautiful peace.

How do you welcome a loved one home?

**Today’s post is brought to you by Five Minute Friday and the very appropriate word “Home”.

Until I See Your Face Again

When I first saw your face, it was red and angry–your eyes squeezed tight and your mouth opened wide as you screamed your dissatisfaction at being pulled from the only home you had known for the past nine months.

Later, while you slept peacefully in my arms, I saw your dimple for the first time. The same one that graces your daddy’s face. “Dimple on the chin, devil within,” my momma told me.

Dimple on the chin...

Dimple on the chin…

With your first smile, I discovered new dimples, and would soon learn they were the tell-tale sign of your “true” smile–not the one forced for the camera with a pleading, “Say cheeeeese!”

Your nose came from me, your hair, much to my regret, came from your dad.  No ginger-haired baby boy for me.

Around age four, I spotted your first freckle. At first, I scrubbed at it, thinking it to be just more playground dirt. But it stayed, and then I saw more and more and still more, until I realized they spread across your nose and cheeks just like the ones I see when I look in the mirror.

For seventeen years, I rejoiced at seeing that face every morning before you headed to the bus stop, every afternoon when I came home from a long day at work and every evening at bedtime.

Now, with you so far away, I must rely on pictures–the ones on my desk, on my computer, on my walls and in my head.  The ones with the true smile that lights up your eyes and crinkles your face with the appearance of those dimples, the ones with your teeth clenched in a “cheese” smile, and the ones with a goofy face meant to disappoint the photographer, but which only make me smile more.

For now, the images of that face will have to do. They make me smile when I miss you, laugh when I’m feeling blue, and bring you closer to my heart when my arms ache to hold you close.

These images will help me get through the next 42 days until I see your face again.

Miss you, my sweet boy. Hurry home.

Stiletto Momma

five-minute-friday****Today’s post is brought to you by Five Minute Friday and the word “Again.”  If you have five minutes to spare from some unedited, from-the-heart blogging, join us on Lisa-Jo Baker’s site.

A Snowy Opportunity

We haven’t seen snow in my part of the country in well over a year.

Okay, well…I take that back. We haven’t seen bundle-up-the-kids-and-go-outside-to-play snow in well over a year. Last Saturday that all changed when the Young One burst into my bedroom at 7:56 am and announced, “IT SNOWED! IT SNOWED!”

snow

My snow-covered backyard.

How I managed to keep her in the house for the next two hours is still a mystery to me, but I did find a way to enjoy several cups of coffee by my nice, warm fireplace before donning boots, polar fleece and long-johns (silk ones, by the way, in case you have any doubt that Stiletto Momma would be anything less than stylish).

We were fortunate enough to be joined outside by the Older One, who had learned earlier in the day that “visiting” home for the holidays does not exclude him from the pool of eligible people to be delegated driveway shoveling duty. He strolled across the driveway, shovel in hand, while the Young One made snow angels. Within minutes, the driveway was clear, and he lobbed the first snowball. The Young One squealed  as she scrambled to make a ball of her own, only to cry in disappointment seconds later when her snowy missile looked more like a lump than a sphere.

Sighing, the Older One took the opportunity to impart some brotherly advice on how to form the perfect snowball.

“Let me show you,” he said, squatting down and digging his gloved hands in the cold for the makings of wintry ammunition. She watched with great attention as he demonstrated packing the snow then rolling it in his hands to form a perfect ball.

snowball

Snowball Architecture 101

I smiled through the lens of my camera, thinking how lucky this little girl is to have such a loving brother and how lucky I am to have both of my children with me against the backdrop of snowy treetops.

Family moments like these are few and far between these days.

With the Older One spending most of his days at the United States Military Academy at West Point, the only times we are all in the same space at the same time are when we see the Older One on the computer monitor courtesy of the webcam.

I’m not one to normally be all happy and bouncy about sledding and snowman-building, but the opportunity to spend an hour playing with my kids is truly a joy…even when they join forces to pelt their loving momma with an arsenal of freshly made snowballs!

snowball fight

INCOMING!!!!

What’s your favorite snow day memory?

five-minute-fridayFive Minute Friday is back! Today’s prompt is “Opportunity”. Check out Lisa-Jo Baker’s site to read more stories about great opportunities, or better yet, write and share one of your own!

Giving Thanks for Stuffing

Thanksgiving has come and gone. I didn’t cook this year. Normally, I’m glued to Food Network the week prior to the biggest cooking holiday of the year, searching for that newest culinary creation to add to my menu. I clean the dining room, spread the special-occasion table cloth, lay the fancy silverware beside the good dishes and spend three days in the kitchen.

Me and the Older One back in the days when he enjoyed only boxed stuffing.

But this year, I didn’t do it. Not because I am not thankful. Not because I have more important things to do.

The reason I didn’t break out my inner Julia Child is because my oldest child wouldn’t be sitting across from me this year. He was sitting at someone else’s table hundreds of miles away, eating another momma’s turkey and mashed potatoes, while the Hubs, the Young One and I took in a buffet dinner at a local hotel. I’m saving my energy for a marathon Christmas cook-fest.

Holiday travel is notorious for inducing stress, so because the break is a relatively short one, the Older One decided he would take a short bus-trip to Boston with another West Point cadet instead of crossing his fingers that the air travel gods would smile on him and bring him to and from our Louisville home delay-free.

Of course, I thought of my boy repeatedly as we all declared what we were thankful for. I wondered if he was lonely. I wondered if he had enough to eat. I wondered if he felt comfortable in a home not his own.

His first text Wednesday helped ease my mind as he let me know he arrived safely.

The next one helped ease my heart as he declared with multiple exclamation points that his hosts were “really, really nice”.

On the phone after his Thanksgiving feast, he shared something that I am sure he said just to make me smile. “I ate ‘real’ stuffing, and it was good.” The boy who sits at my Thanksgiving table refuses any stuffing that does not come from a box and the stove top. Every year, I pledge to make a homemade version, and every year he convinces me, his holiday will be ruined if I follow though on the threat.

So, this year, the thing for which I am most thankful is the generosity of a family far away…for taking in a young man known for putting down five pounds of potatoes by himself…for giving him stress-free days…for introducing him to the world of “real stuffing”…and for filling in for his momma.

No, I didn’t cook this year, but I am thankful another momma with a warm home and a loving heart did.

Thank you!

*This is the Five Minute Friday Finale for 2012. Join us on Lisa-Jo Baker’s site in January for more Friday blogging fun!

West Point Style

West Point cadets continue to impress me. They are athletic, scholarly and honorable. This week, I have come to learn they are also extremely gifted in the arts, particularly those of dance, videography and lip syncing.

Since the Older One left the nest for the next phase of his life at the United States Military Academy at West Point, I am much less in touch with pop culture than I was when he lived at home. Prior to this week, I had no clue Gangnam Style was a song from South Korean rapper Psy. If you had asked me on Monday what it was, I probably would have said it was some type of fashion statement. These days, with only a five-year-old at home, I know more about Sponge Bob Square Pants than the latest dance craze.

I am, however, a social media guru (self-proclaimed, since my day-job requires that I Facebook, tweet and blog in a professional capacity), and I know a viral video when I see one. Gangnam Style, with almost 360 million views, is just about as viral as it gets. As testament to its viral nature, spoofs of the video are invading YouTube like soldiers on a battlefield, and the creative geniuses admitted to the US service academies are not to be excluded from this social media war.

Two weeks ago, the Naval Academy created a buzz with its Gangnam Style-inspired video, prompting CBSNews.com to challenge Navy’s biggest rival to a musical performance showdown. Yesterday, Army responded with resounding force when the Cadets posted their amazingly choreographed and edited rendition of Psy’s pop-culture hit.

Strobe lights!

On-location production numbers!

Child actors!

Horses!

The gauntlet has been thrown. The battle is on.

Navy’s version has received over five million views so far. Army fully intends to exceed that and is calling for a full-scale social media attack. This post is my contribution to the effort. Please watch Gangnam Style-West Point on YouTube, share it with all your friends, then tell me what you think.

Social media and traditional media alike are picking sides. I know which one I prefer. How about you?

GO ARMY! BEAT NAVY!

Stiletto Momma

*This post is part of WordPress’s Weekly Writing Challenge: Easy as Pie. Check it out and play along.

Five Minute Friday – Grasp

I hugged my little boy last Saturday!

Well, he’s not a little boy any more–he towers almost a foot higher than me, and when I do hug him my hands barely touch on the other side.

Post-Game

Minutes before this picture was taken the big one in the middle was crushed in a hug by the little one on the left!

But I hugged him, nonetheless, and I basked in his presence for an entire 20 minutes.

I couldn’t stop smiling.

I miss my boy, and it was fairly obvious to everyone else around us at the Wake Forest football stadium in Winston-Salem, NC, last weekend.

The hubs and I made a two-part journey from our Louisville home to West Virginia and then on to Winston-Salem to watch the Army Black Knights take on the Wake Forest Demon Deacons.

That’s not entirely true. The Hubs was there to watch the football game. I, apparently, was there to watch number 55, even if he didn’t step foot on the field.

Another momma and her boy traveled with us to the game. Army is recruiting her quarterback son, and they wanted to check out the team on the road. Even though the Black Knights fell to the Demon Deacons, he left the stadium with a new conviction to complete the application process for the United States Military Academy.

His momma left with a new understanding of what being a West Point Mom would mean for her.

As we stood outside the stadium talking with my football player after the game, she pulled him aside and enlightened him to my pride. “Your mom really loves you, you know. It made me cry watching her watch you. She never watched the game. She only watched you.”

It’s true.

Army Football

See that grin? That’s my boy!

I try to grasp every single second of my son. I didn’t watch most of the action on the field. I used the zoom lens on my camera to find the only player I cared about, and when he saw me seeing him, he flashed me the goofy grin he knows I love. I caught it on film, and I remember how my heart warmed and my smile grew.

When I grasped him firmly in my arms after the game, I knew the long drive and the exhausting weekend was worth it.

I hugged my boy last Saturday, and I am grasping on to the memory until I see him again.

Stiletto Momma

PS. Through a fellow writer of the blog My Awesome Olive Shoots, I’ve discovered Five Minute Friday. If you’re a blogger, join us every week for a few minutes of blogging inspiration!

Momma-Can’t-Stop-Smilin’ Moments

My kids made me so happy yesterday.

Neither of them said anything special or did anything extraordinary for me.  Actually, it wasn’t even them that made me smile so hard my cheeks hurt.

What made me beam with pride was pictures of them captured at just the right moment.

First, the Cadet…the one I haven’t seen since he left for West Point and the Army Black Knights football camp in early August. He plays left tackle on Army’s offensive line, and as a Yuk (aka a sophomore in almost any other college in the country), his goal when he set foot on the gridiron this season was to dress and travel with the varsity team.

Yesterday, marked the 2012 home opener for the Black Knights, but too few vacation days and too many miles to travel meant this momma watched Army take on Northern Illinois from the comfort of the Hubs’ man cave. Had I been in Michie Stadium, however, I never would have heard the announcers on CBS Sports discussing the significance of the unit patch affixed to each Army player’s jersey.

For each game, the team honors  one Army unit by wearing its patch as part of the game uniform. Stitched to yesterday’s jersey was the unit patch for the 10th Mountain Division based at Fort Drum in northern New York. The 10th Mountain Division is also the Army’s most deployed division over the past two decades.

As the announcers discussed the significance of the patch, the television screen filled with a close up of the patch on a player’s black jersey.

Army Unit Patch

Then the camera slowly panned out to show the face of the player inside that jersey. My breath stopped. I gripped the arms of my black leather man-cave chair, and yelled, “That’s him! That’s him! That’s him! PAUSE IT!”

Army Unit Patch

Yes! My little boy was filling all 101 inches of man-cave screen! Wearing Black Knights black and gold, prowling the sidelines waiting for Coach to call his number and cheering his team to what turned out to be a heart-breaker–a 41-40 loss for Army.

You can almost hear him.

Army Unit Patch“GGGGG….”

Army Unit Patch“…OOOOO!!!!!!”

Of course I was happy to see him all larger than life on the flat screen, but his image was not what had me grinning like the Cheshire Cat. I was beyond happy for HIM because he had reached his goal of dressing with the Varsity team. Not much else can make a momma’s heart glow with warmth than knowing her child is happy.

The Young One, it turns out, was pretty happy with herself yesterday too. Her accomplishment came earlier in the day, but I didn’t truly see it until the day was winding down, and I sat at the computer to download the pictures I’d taken from yesterday’s early morning soccer game.

As this is her first experience with a team sport, I’ve tried to teach her to the basics of the game.

DeterminationTry hard.

Don’t give up, even when the boys are trying to take your ball.

HappyAnd have FUN!

Her face in this last picture tells me that she too had accomplished everything her five-year-old self could possibly achieve on a chilly Saturday morning. I couldn’t stop looking at this picture, and the smile wouldn’t stop either.

My kids are happy! I have fulfilled the Momma Destiny! I have kids who are reaching their goals, and having fun and SMILING!

What more can a momma ask for? Yes, my kids made me very happy yesterday. That’s not much different from the day before, but the difference this time, is that I saw their joy smiling back and me, and I am happy too.

How have your kids made you happy today?

Stiletto Momma

Days to Go

The countdown to my son’s latest return from The United States Military Academy at West Point began about the same time he gave me a quick wave from the opposite end of airport security as he departed for his Cadet Field Training at the end of June.

For the remainder of that day, his little sister cried all the tears she could possibly shed, and I wandered the house looking for a chore that would not remind me of something we did together when he was home for this most recent visit.

Countdown

Days to Go…Days Done…

I found myself standing in front of a set of glass jars that sit on the counter between the kitchen and the great room–the Army Black Knights logo on the top of one and the Army mule logo on the other.

The one on the right sat loaded to the top with black and gold marbles (the USMA school colors). The sign on its front read, “Days Done…” The jar on the left read, “Days to Go…”, and it had sat empty for the last 16 days.

As I stood looking at the jars, I heard a sad, little voice beside me ask, “When’s he coming home, Momma?”

“Well,” I sighed, “Let’s find out.”

Taking the full jar from the counter, I felt its weight in my hand, pulled the cap from the top, and dumped the marbles in a shiny black and gold pile on the coffee table. Together, the Young One and I counted out 28 marbles, being sure to have an even number of each color.

Twenty-eight days is the smallest number we have added to the jar since we started our countdown ritual, and it will probably be the last time we will mark such a short separation. Unlike students at civilian colleges, USMA cadets do not get a three-month summer break from their school. Instead, they spend the summer undergoing military and leadership training that prepares them for their future in the US Army.

While my daughter dropped the marbles into “Days to Go”, I returned the now empty “Days Done” to its spot on the counter, feeling sad that it was almost weightless compared to just a few minutes ago.

The Young One brought “Days to Go” back to sit next to its partner, and then she stood back to examine the two together.

“That’s all we have to do?”

I joined her, gave my own examination, and declared, “Yes, that’s all we have to do.”

“And each day at bedtime, I’m gonna put a marble in the other jar?”

“That’s right,” I nodded.

“Then he’ll be home?” she asked with the start of a smile lighting her teary eyes.

“Yes.”

“YAY!” She raised her arms in victory and jumped up and down in the way I have come to learn means she is beyond excited. “Then I’m gonna give him the BIGGEST hug EVER and say, ‘I MISSED you!’”

“Me too!”, I exclaimed and pulled her into a hug, so we could bounce and dance around the room together.

I had made the two jars and started the bedtime tradition last March after my son had returned to West Point following his Spring Break.  I thought this would be a good way for my daughter to mark the time between her big brother’s visits. At five years old, she does not fully understand that a month, or two months or (gulp) six months is not the same as “tomorrow” or “today”.

What I have come to realize, however, is that the marbles in the jar are not just another game meant to pacify a pre-schooler. They are a visual representation of challenge and accomplishment for a momma missing her son. If I was able to do 50 days last time, I can do 28 days this time, and next time I will be able to do 60, or 90, or 120. As long as I can keep moving marbles from one jar to the other, I can do as many days as it takes because it means I am one day closer to embracing my boy!

Tonight, the Young One took the last of the 28 marbles from “Days to Go” and dropped it with a happy tinkle into “Days Done”. Then she mounted the stairs to her room with a skip in her step and a smile on her face.

In 10 days, we will start all over again.  I’m not looking forward to counting out enough marbles to take us from August 7 to December 22, but for tonight, “Days to Go” is empty, and I am brimming with excitement too.

Stiletto Momma

Operation: Comfort and Care Packages

Throughout nature, mothers are known to protect their young. Birds build nests high up in trees to keep predators from their eggs. Kangaroos hold their babies close in their pouches. Bears will kill their enemies when their cubs are threatened. Mothers are driven by instinct–protect those who are in harm’s away and comfort them when they are vulnerable.

It is no wonder then that when news broke in early June of a truck bomb exploding inside Forward Operating Base Salerno near the city of Khost in Afghanistan, a group of very dedicated West Point moms sprang into action. First, they offered prayers of thanks that the attack had resulted in no military deaths. Then they rallied the troops, and what I like to call “Operation: Comfort and Care Packages”, was launched.

Baking

The Young One is my baking buddy. Even in our aprons we are stylin’!

Since January, I have been a member of West Point Moms Bake. We are a group of 182 mothers of West Point cadets and graduates who believe our mission is to supply our troops with cookies, brownies and all things homemade. Each member of the group is part of a 10-mom team. I am on the Sky Dragons team, named after the “Sky Dragons” of the XVIII Airborne Corps–the corps of the United States Army designed for rapid deployment anywhere in the world, and is the Army’s largest warfighting organization.

Every month, each team is assigned a soldier deployed overseas to whom we are encouraged to overwhelm with gratitude and appreciation. With each mom on a team sending to the same soldier at different times throughout the month, the lucky recipient receives several boxes of homebaked goodness to share with his or her battle buddies.

At the beginning of each month, I eagerly await the email that brings me the name and address of the next soldier who will soon know the wonders of my snickerdoodles. June’s email, however, was different. Not only did it contain the long-awaited name, but it also delivered the news of FOB Salerno. While there had been no loss of military life from the attack, reported as the work of Taliban militia, the consequences of the violence were still devastating to the US troops stationed there.

The truck bomb that had breached FOB Salerno’s gates exploded just outside the base’s dining facility, resulting in heavy damage to that structure as well as to the nearby PX where military personnel can purchase toiletries and other comfort items. Until the dining facility and PX can be rebuilt and re-supplied, the only food available to these young men and women will be MREs (Meals Ready to Eat), and “comfort items” will be just a distant memory.

In addition to this most recent attack, FOB Salerno has been nick named “Rocket City” because it has been the target of incoming rocket and mortar fire many times over the course of the war in Afghanistan. Those stationed here have seen more than their share of violence, and this most recent attack is sure to be a blow to moral compounded by the physical damage left behind and the toll from the hardships they will face in the coming days and weeks as they rebuild what was lost.

Brownies

Even though most of the items sent to FOB Salerno were packaged goods and toiletries, I did manage to squeeze in some homemade cookie bars and brownies!

My June care package recipient is a female soldier stationed at FOB Salerno, and unlike previous months, the moms sending packages to her would not just be the 10 on my Sky Dragons team. Nearly 80 other moms were assigned this same soldier, and our orders were to care for the Salerno soldiers as if they were our own. Upon arrival, our boxes would be distributed among all soldiers, and we were asked to send not only baked goods this time, but other sorely needed items–soap, shampoo, deodorant, canned tuna and chicken, ramen noodles, crackers, pens, paper.

Boxes

Mission complete! My two boxes are ready to send to FOB Salerno.

Word quickly spread across Facebook, and soon other West Point moms not included on the original list were volunteering to send a package to FOB Salerno as well as to their assigned soldier. Trips to Costco and Sam’s were planned, and many moms (myself included) announced they were preparing two or more boxes. Some lamented at not including more baked items in their boxes, but with time being critical to our mission, the solution was to send packaged items right away and supplement with boxes of cookies later in the month.

So, while bears kill for their children and birds hide their babies in far away tree tops, West Point moms stretch their hearts wide to encompass fellow Army moms’ children and shower them with love and support from home. We also thank them for what they do. The nature of their job is to endure hardships, so we do not have to. The least we can do is donate our time, our money and our kitchens to help make their sacrifices a little easier to bare.

The news coming out out of Afghanistan is often hard to hear, and we feel powerless as we listen to reports of more death and destruction. This time, however, when we heard about FOB Salerno, we knew we could make a difference.

Boxes of comfort are our specialty, and help is on its way.

Stiletto Momma

***UPDATE*** West Point Moms Bake packages began arriving at FOB Salerno June 18–a little more than two weeks after the truck bomb destroyed that base’s dining facility and PX. So far, 85 boxes have been delivered and distributed among the very grateful troops. Our contact there reports that the toiletries and snacks are proving to be a great morale booster.

 News of the boxes’ arrival, however, comes on the day that Army officials  acknowledged that the damage done to FOB Salerno was much worse than originally reported. The explosion of the truck carrying 1,500 pounds of explosives killed two Americans and seriously wounded three dozen troops. More than 100 soldiers sustained minor injuries. U.S. officials are currently assessing security at FOB Salerno. (Read more about the attack.)

Thy Boodle Runneth Over

I am responsible for the bounty of boodle that has taken over my oldest child’s barracks room.

Sibling Love

This is why we send boodle.

I first learned of “boodle” and the joy it can bring to both mother and child last summer while that oldest child of mine was being yelled at and put through his paces during Cadet Basic Training. In West Point circles, CBT is affectionately referred to as “Beast Barracks”, or simply, ”Beast”. In West Point Mom circles, it is known as “the dark time when I knew someone was being mean to my baby, but I couldn’t do anything about it.”

During that dark time, I was introduced to an amazing group of women dedicated to supporting each other during the 47-month roller coaster ride of life as a West Point Mom. Through the wonder of Facebook, the veteran moms of West Point scooped the new West Point moms into a warm embrace and told us we would be okay. Our children would ”slay the Beast”, and with their help, we would most certainly become fluent in military jargon.

When one exuberant mom posted that she was buying boodle to send to her son, my first reaction was to blush at the slightly illicit sound of the term. Surely, this is not something meant to be shared between a mother and her son.  As other moms chimed in at the remarkably soothing effects of boodle and the almost immediate rush of endorphins upon giving and receiving, I began to wonder if what they were doing was legal.

I was intrigued, but I was uncertain if my own heart-felt posts through social media had earned me enough trust among these women to be granted the knowledge of this well-guarded secret.  I sat back and waited for someone else to ask the questions I was too intimidated to type…

”What is boodle, and how do I get some?”

As I waited, I typed “boodle” into Wikipedia only to find out that boodle is not some type of highly addictive drug. In the mid-1880s, it was a form of government bribery.  Were these moms I respected so highly really encouraging their children to bribe their way through the U.S. Military Academy?

I didn’t believe it, so back I went to Facebook in search of more clues. The newest additions to the thread created a user’s guide to procuring and packing boodle.

“The best place to find boodle is at Wal-Mart.”

“The post office is the only place to get your supplies.”

“Use a FoodSaver to keep it fresh.”

“Send extra boodle for sharing if you can.”

“Don’t forget the bubble wrap!”

Then finally…the recipe! “Just fill it with love, moms!”

LOVE! That’s what boodle is! West Point Moms send their children love in U.S. Postal Service flat rate boxes!

Boodle

The making of boodle. See the love?

“Boodle”, as defined by West Point Moms on Facebook, is a loving reminder that someone at home is thinking of you and wants to bring a smile to your face.  It is fresh baked cookies, jars of peanuts, sweet smelling shampoo, a picture of the family dog, a card filled with words of encouragement, a silly trinket from the dollar store meant to spark a funny memory shared between a mother and her child.

Now eight months later, I am an expert at assembling boodle. So much so that during Plebe Parent Weekend last month, I was astounded by the sight of my cadet’s boodle box sitting in its place of honor above his desk.

Like all parents that weekend, I was granted the opportunity to walk inside my cadet’s room to see where he spends his time outside of the classroom. I wanted to see everything–where he hung his uniforms, where he kept his socks, and of course, how he stored his boodle.

Bulging Boodle

The bulging boodle box!

He smiled when he pulled the plastic bin from the shelf, but we all braced ourselves when he unsnapped the lid. I could tell even before he pulled the top back that this might end in disaster. The sides of the container were bulging, and the lid was bowed in the middle. The boodle had exceeded the boundaries of its box and threatened to burst into a mushroom cloud of goldfish, peanuts and beef jerky.

Yes, I supply my son with boodle. The physical contents are usually my secret recipe pretzels, cookies that can be shared with his roommates and pictures drawn by his little sister. I don’t stop filling the box until I have stuffed every empty space of each package with all the love I have stored up in his absence.

His boodle runneth over…as does my love for a young man hundreds of miles away sinking his teeth into a taste from home.

Stiletto Momma