as promised! the 2010 (that's right, 2010) Christmas letter

(The following letter was written by seb while he was deployed in afghanistan and sat in our files while waiting for our photo for the card to be edited and spliced by seb, who was trying to create some composite shot of us and him together. which he did. and i hated it. and eventually gave up on a re-edit. and since then it was verging on early february of 2011, i decided not to send it. but since seb put in the work (and i did hear complaints through my family that people hadn't gotten their letter) here it is in all it's extremely belated glory.

i did not censor this letter. at least, no more than i did way back when he wrote it.)


To those we miss more with every passing year,


I thought that Jesse would be writing this year’s letter, but at the last minute she decided that fighting the Taliban was not nearly the full time job of raising two boys. So once again, it is my responsibility to wrap up one year of our lives into a short and politically correct (per Jesse’s request) holiday letter.


I am still the Division Psychiatrist for the 101st Airborne Division, Air Assault. I will admit that the job description slightly changed after we deployed, but I am still mainly a staff weenie. For two months, I got to be a “real doctor” and take care of Soldiers with a Charlie Med and a forward surgical team. That was easily the most rewarding two months of this experience. For the most part, deployment is “groundhog day” over and over again. It is amazing how mundane making powerpoint presentations, hiding in bunkers, commuting in black hawk helicopters, and buying poor quality Afghani DVD rip-offs can be. That’s not to say that the deployment has been without “interesting experiences,” but if my biggest complaints are that the shower ran out of hot water, or that Friday’s lobster dinner was too tough, then overall I think I’ve had it pretty good.


The irony of it all is that I go to a warzone, but it is Jesse that has to live under a constant artillery barrage of questions and demands from our children. She is handling this situation remarkably well and has only pulled out her hair three times. If anything, she is doing too well. I’m half afraid that when I go back I will only be in the way and will be downgraded to the usefulness of an accessory nipple. I did not know it was possible, but she has gotten even more beautiful after I deployed. I think she is trying to make this a surprise, because she hardly ever lets me see her on Skype and always points the camera at our children.


Jesse has decided that Caleb takes after his father. I am constantly trying to decide whether his intelligence, stubbornness, or skinniness is his strongest trait. He always asks questions like “Where does the night go,” “What sound does a Pterodactyl make,” and “Daddy, are you coming home today?” The last question is always the hardest to answer. He is currently obsessed about trains, builds things with blocks, and plays make believe. Unfortunately, he is still stubborn enough not to use the “potty,” and given his skinniness, he will probably be able to fit in diapers for the next 20 years. At some point, this issue will come to a head. The good news is that as soon as Caleb is potty trained, Noah won’t be far behind. Noah always wants to do what his brother is doing.


Noah, on the other hand takes after his mother. Given her stubbornness, this means that we’ll be in a lot of trouble in a year or so. When he has what he wants he is a very happy baby. When he doesn’t, watch out. One of the most desired objects in Noah’s life is the computer who Noah has affectionately named “dadee.” In his mind, “dadee” is a two dimensional interactive program that sings, talks, and make funny faces at him. He learned to crawl by chasing “dadee,” he learned to stand by trying to get to “dadee,” and dances when “dadee” sings. His confusion about who “dadee” is becomes apparent when Jesse takes him shopping and he runs to any computer he sees and yells “dadee” over and over again. I don’t actually think that my transition home will be that difficult for him though because I am about as two-dimensional as a three-dimensional person can be.


As I finish this letter, I am watching the sunrise on Christmas morning from a castle on the top of a mountain overlooking the Pakistani border. Not the place I would have predicted five years ago, but for now it will do. I will be redeploying this spring and look forward to seeing everyone again. Until then, you can still go to www.andsohedid.blogspot.com to get the most recent (or slightly outdated) skinny.

God bless and Merry Christmas,

Sebastian, Jesse, Caleb, and Noah