But I'm back. husband is home, we've moved, unpacked and are re-integrating (that's Army speak for getting used to sharing the bathroom and informing others of your whereabouts again).
We have moved closer to a military base. I never thought I would be so happy to be in a miitary community. My God, I am so glad to be back.
With only a one-year assignment for certain, I threw myself and my kids in friend-making. I volunteered for Vacation Bible school at our new church- total ulterior motives. My husband was TDY and I wanted to make sure the kids didn't sit around and make me crazy. So we ALL went, 2 as volunteers, 3 attendees and 2 in the nursery. Awesome. The week flew, fun was had, and everyone was tired.
I also got to meet a bunch of people, many of whom were military spouses. I got linked into a playgroup, just like that. There were other moms new to the area too, who new the best way to make friends quickly was to get out of the house and DO something. I linked in with some of them. My kids felt much more welcomed at this school/church than they had at the last school. Other more established moms were super helpful, with advice and suggestions about an area that has almost too many options for stuff.
All these great experiences made me think back on the last year. I really missed the feeling of sisterhood, of a shared journey. I feel at home again with women who don't need to dust under the couch because the movers will be back before it gets too thick. We are women in flux. Women living the best life they can while rolling with whatever the Army, Navy or Marine Corps throws at them. I love being in a group that doesn't blanche when I qualify my longish-terms plans with "If we still live here".
The year in a purely civilian community had it positives and negatives, but I certainly appreciate being in a military community again. I am finally home again, in a place I have never lived, but with people I feel like I already know.
17 July 2011
06 May 2011
Military spouse appreciation day?
Less than 2% of the population serves.
I don't know that the other 98% seriously cares in a material, definite way about military spouses. My impression is that too many care in a fleeting, unserious way, much like everyone cares about the starving kids in Africa or Haiti. I don't think it is because people are cold or unfeeling (though some might be). I think it is because we are invisible to them.
We are clustered around military bases, mostly in the South. The military makes sure most bases are not convenient to any major population centers, keeping us almost cloistered from most of American society. They don't know us. And as the war drags on (and on and on), I, for one, don't think I know them anymore.
So for all those areas without military, let me break into the rhythm of your life to introduce you to someone you might not know- the military spouse.
She is young or not-so-young-anymore. She is college educated, or not- because frequent moves don't leave much time to finish school. Sometimes she isn't a she, there are men who have watched their wives go off to war.
One thing is for sure- she misses her soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine.
She has kids who miss their dad, and she tries to maintain the schedule they had when there were two parents. She is exhausted. Offer to drive her kid home from baseball.
She sees children at military family events, but doesn't have her own yet, because he is always deployed or training up for deployment. Be a friend to her.
She has her happy face on, but inside her heart is breaking, as she unwillingly ticks down the days to his departure. She smiles for her kids, who don't know he is leaving yet; her fellow spouses, to try to keep spirits up; and herself, to keep from crying. Smile back.
She is in church with her kids, trying to make them behave and quiet the baby by herself. Be kind to her.
She is at the grocery store filling her cart with things that can be cooked for one, or she is finding things that kids will eat that are reasonably nutritious and are easy to cook because they can't keep having chicken nuggets for dinner. Invite her over for dinner, or bring her a meal.
She is new in town and her soldier is already gone. She wants/ needs to work, but is struggling to find something. Point her in a good direction.
Her best friend is in a hostile country, with dangers everywhere. She is lonely without him. Call her just to say hello.
She worries. Her heart is heavy and a few minute chat on Skype can make her week. Pray for her.
Pray for all of us. Pray for our servicemen and women to return safely and an end to these wars.
That's how you thank a military spouse.
I don't know that the other 98% seriously cares in a material, definite way about military spouses. My impression is that too many care in a fleeting, unserious way, much like everyone cares about the starving kids in Africa or Haiti. I don't think it is because people are cold or unfeeling (though some might be). I think it is because we are invisible to them.
We are clustered around military bases, mostly in the South. The military makes sure most bases are not convenient to any major population centers, keeping us almost cloistered from most of American society. They don't know us. And as the war drags on (and on and on), I, for one, don't think I know them anymore.
So for all those areas without military, let me break into the rhythm of your life to introduce you to someone you might not know- the military spouse.
She is young or not-so-young-anymore. She is college educated, or not- because frequent moves don't leave much time to finish school. Sometimes she isn't a she, there are men who have watched their wives go off to war.
One thing is for sure- she misses her soldier, sailor, airman, or Marine.
She has kids who miss their dad, and she tries to maintain the schedule they had when there were two parents. She is exhausted. Offer to drive her kid home from baseball.
She sees children at military family events, but doesn't have her own yet, because he is always deployed or training up for deployment. Be a friend to her.
She has her happy face on, but inside her heart is breaking, as she unwillingly ticks down the days to his departure. She smiles for her kids, who don't know he is leaving yet; her fellow spouses, to try to keep spirits up; and herself, to keep from crying. Smile back.
She is in church with her kids, trying to make them behave and quiet the baby by herself. Be kind to her.
She is at the grocery store filling her cart with things that can be cooked for one, or she is finding things that kids will eat that are reasonably nutritious and are easy to cook because they can't keep having chicken nuggets for dinner. Invite her over for dinner, or bring her a meal.
She is new in town and her soldier is already gone. She wants/ needs to work, but is struggling to find something. Point her in a good direction.
Her best friend is in a hostile country, with dangers everywhere. She is lonely without him. Call her just to say hello.
She worries. Her heart is heavy and a few minute chat on Skype can make her week. Pray for her.
Pray for all of us. Pray for our servicemen and women to return safely and an end to these wars.
That's how you thank a military spouse.
14 April 2011
Rule of Army life #20: Share your bad days in an email to your spouse, and then delete before sending
Writing emails to myself is a coping mechanism I have adopted this deployment.
I might have done it once or twice last deployment, but I am up to two or three a month this time.
Not only does a deployment take a spouse physically away from the other one, but the emotional support seems to disappear too. Not to say that deployed soldiers are unfeeling cads, more that we, at home, become more careful about what we say. They are in a war zone. They are facing IEDs and other dangers constantly. No one wants to be the spouse who argued with her soldier on the phone, only to never get to speak to him again. They want to hear that all is well back home (because they feel guilty about leaving?), and it seems unfeeling to tell them otherwise. Not to mention that it isn't a good idea. Seems contradictory that less information can be better, but there it is. On the flip side, I prefer to know nothing about whatever is going on over there.
Still, built-up frustration needs a place to go. Some of it can be shared with other spouses, who are, after all, facing the same situation. Kids sometimes get a taste of it, despite a parent's best efforts. I have found that writing emails that aren't sent is the answer for me.
I can write exactly how I am feeling at the moment- no punches pulled, so softer words sought. I can curse the Army and Fate; I can blame God, too. I can write about how AWFUL (in detail) the kids were that day and how I am really running away to a tropical island, and he can have the kids. I can swear that the boys are going to military boarding school. I can recount all of the things I am not doing in my own life (remember your own life? Before this whole Army/war thing?) because he isn't living in our house with me like a "normal" married couple. All of that, and more.
I read it over, and acknowledge that I sound like a raving lunatic.
And then I hit "delete".
No, thanks. No need to save as a draft.
Am I holding back? Yes.
Is holding back helpful at this current juncture of my life? I think so.
Do I feel better? Sure do!
But we're getting closer to that magical reintegration time. I won't be able to hide behind email anymore. I will have to remember how to talk to him, in person, and live with him. It's been awhile. I don't recall much of the time he was home last time. Truthfully, I didn't reintegrate. I started to, but when the word came that he was leaving again, I pulled back. No point to it, I reasoned. I am still leery of him possibly heading back out the door in 12 or so months. He says that the numbers are on our side. I, however, don't think Human Resource Command is on our side.
Maybe we'll get lucky, and they'll cancel the war due to lack of interest. Then we can all get back to living, instead of waiting/missing/coping/writing.
I might have done it once or twice last deployment, but I am up to two or three a month this time.
Not only does a deployment take a spouse physically away from the other one, but the emotional support seems to disappear too. Not to say that deployed soldiers are unfeeling cads, more that we, at home, become more careful about what we say. They are in a war zone. They are facing IEDs and other dangers constantly. No one wants to be the spouse who argued with her soldier on the phone, only to never get to speak to him again. They want to hear that all is well back home (because they feel guilty about leaving?), and it seems unfeeling to tell them otherwise. Not to mention that it isn't a good idea. Seems contradictory that less information can be better, but there it is. On the flip side, I prefer to know nothing about whatever is going on over there.
Still, built-up frustration needs a place to go. Some of it can be shared with other spouses, who are, after all, facing the same situation. Kids sometimes get a taste of it, despite a parent's best efforts. I have found that writing emails that aren't sent is the answer for me.
I can write exactly how I am feeling at the moment- no punches pulled, so softer words sought. I can curse the Army and Fate; I can blame God, too. I can write about how AWFUL (in detail) the kids were that day and how I am really running away to a tropical island, and he can have the kids. I can swear that the boys are going to military boarding school. I can recount all of the things I am not doing in my own life (remember your own life? Before this whole Army/war thing?) because he isn't living in our house with me like a "normal" married couple. All of that, and more.
I read it over, and acknowledge that I sound like a raving lunatic.
And then I hit "delete".
No, thanks. No need to save as a draft.
Am I holding back? Yes.
Is holding back helpful at this current juncture of my life? I think so.
Do I feel better? Sure do!
But we're getting closer to that magical reintegration time. I won't be able to hide behind email anymore. I will have to remember how to talk to him, in person, and live with him. It's been awhile. I don't recall much of the time he was home last time. Truthfully, I didn't reintegrate. I started to, but when the word came that he was leaving again, I pulled back. No point to it, I reasoned. I am still leery of him possibly heading back out the door in 12 or so months. He says that the numbers are on our side. I, however, don't think Human Resource Command is on our side.
Maybe we'll get lucky, and they'll cancel the war due to lack of interest. Then we can all get back to living, instead of waiting/missing/coping/writing.
10 April 2011
Never seems to be the right time
Maybe it is because I have a basketball team plus one sub, but time seems to skip from "too soon" to "very late" in a flash.
For example, if I try to take all my peeps somewhere, I want to start getting ready about 45 minutes before I want to leave. But that isn't really a good idea, you see. Because I will get everyone ready, and when it's time to walk out the door, someone will have taken off and misplaced his/her shoes, at least 2 kids will need to use the restroom again, somebody will want a snack ("But Mooooommmm, I'm staarrrrrving!") and the other kid will have decided he/she doesn't really want to go. (And my husband doesn't understand why there are times that I think I am on Candid Camera.)
But if I try to wait until 15 minutes before we leave, I get stressed out and crazy trying to herd all my people toward the door. (Ever try to catch a chicken or herd cats? Yeah, it looks a lot like that.) We'll get to the car, but usually 5 minutes past the time we should have arrived at our destination and, by this point, Mommy doesn't feel like going anywhere.
So when to start? That is the magic question.
Next month, I am moving. Again. But this time, I am only moving about 15 miles away. The catch (because I am cursed to live what the Chinese would call an "interesting" life) is that most of my stuff is coming from our last duty station, but a fair amount of stuff is here. And then the kids will get out of school probably a day or two after our household goods arrive. And my husband should arrive a few days after that.
This calls for one of those buckets-o-margarita.
I want to have some semblance of order in the house when my husband arrives. So I want to start packing up the less essential things here and move them there. But when do I start packing? Now? I think it might be too soon- I have nowhere to put boxes and I won't get the keys til the first. Later? That could easily become too late, because Easter is so late and my kids are home from school the last week of April. Not to mention that packing with 6 "helpers" is almost a fruitless endeavor. My three year old will unpack any box she finds, especially if it looks interesting, or has her stuff in it, or if it is a day ending in "y".
So I should start now, before soon becomes late.
ummmm, yeah.
I have lost my grip on time. I realize it is purely conceptual, but I am starting to think it might not even apply to me.
In the middle of all this, I am working towards my teachers certification. I would be done with the coursework already, but I withdrew my packet because the Army told us we were moving out of the state (and naturally changed their minds once the cut off date had passed- Thanks, Army!). I need to be in VA until summer of 2013 to get my 5 year license. Am I already too late? I couldn't do it any sooner. Will I pass this stupid test? I started studying awhile ago, but I think I will run out of time and still not feel ready. Too late? But it was just early.....
Where does the time go? What exactly do I do all day? Why does it take all day? And why does it wear me out?
Oh look, it's late (lol).
And in the morning, it will be too early again.
Round and round we go.....
For example, if I try to take all my peeps somewhere, I want to start getting ready about 45 minutes before I want to leave. But that isn't really a good idea, you see. Because I will get everyone ready, and when it's time to walk out the door, someone will have taken off and misplaced his/her shoes, at least 2 kids will need to use the restroom again, somebody will want a snack ("But Mooooommmm, I'm staarrrrrving!") and the other kid will have decided he/she doesn't really want to go. (And my husband doesn't understand why there are times that I think I am on Candid Camera.)
But if I try to wait until 15 minutes before we leave, I get stressed out and crazy trying to herd all my people toward the door. (Ever try to catch a chicken or herd cats? Yeah, it looks a lot like that.) We'll get to the car, but usually 5 minutes past the time we should have arrived at our destination and, by this point, Mommy doesn't feel like going anywhere.
So when to start? That is the magic question.
Next month, I am moving. Again. But this time, I am only moving about 15 miles away. The catch (because I am cursed to live what the Chinese would call an "interesting" life) is that most of my stuff is coming from our last duty station, but a fair amount of stuff is here. And then the kids will get out of school probably a day or two after our household goods arrive. And my husband should arrive a few days after that.
This calls for one of those buckets-o-margarita.
I want to have some semblance of order in the house when my husband arrives. So I want to start packing up the less essential things here and move them there. But when do I start packing? Now? I think it might be too soon- I have nowhere to put boxes and I won't get the keys til the first. Later? That could easily become too late, because Easter is so late and my kids are home from school the last week of April. Not to mention that packing with 6 "helpers" is almost a fruitless endeavor. My three year old will unpack any box she finds, especially if it looks interesting, or has her stuff in it, or if it is a day ending in "y".
So I should start now, before soon becomes late.
ummmm, yeah.
I have lost my grip on time. I realize it is purely conceptual, but I am starting to think it might not even apply to me.
In the middle of all this, I am working towards my teachers certification. I would be done with the coursework already, but I withdrew my packet because the Army told us we were moving out of the state (and naturally changed their minds once the cut off date had passed- Thanks, Army!). I need to be in VA until summer of 2013 to get my 5 year license. Am I already too late? I couldn't do it any sooner. Will I pass this stupid test? I started studying awhile ago, but I think I will run out of time and still not feel ready. Too late? But it was just early.....
Where does the time go? What exactly do I do all day? Why does it take all day? And why does it wear me out?
Oh look, it's late (lol).
And in the morning, it will be too early again.
Round and round we go.....
03 April 2011
Hitting the (mental) wall
TEN MONTHS!!!! So close, but not close enough.
It reminds me of the first marathon I ran (4 kids ago) in Richmond. I just passed the 22 mile mark and was rather enjoying my first marathon. I had trained well and was feeling fine. There were lots of interesting people to chat with, but one guy I had to leave behind. He said, "I feel like we're never going to get there." That is POISONOUS thinking. I picked up my pace and found a new person to talk to.
I am teetering on the brink of those same type of poisonous thoughts. You know them. You probably have thought some of them. Well, I am going to say them out loud. Verboten, I know. But sometimes seeing those thoughts in black and white robs them of their power.
"What was the point of getting married (or having kids) if he's never going to be here?"
"Good thing we're moving because I have taken over his closet space and his side of the bed."(This statement drips with sarcasm. You want neither his side of the bed, nor his closet space. You want HIM at home, dammit.)
"How are we supposed to reintegrate when he'll probably leave again in 12 months?"
"Of course HE thinks (insert kid's newest trouble making adventure) is funny, he's over THERE. I'd think it was funny from Afghanistan, too."
"Next time, I'LL deploy. HE can stay here with these crazy people."
For those of you without a running problem, "hitting the wall" is the feeling associated with a physiological condition. Be it your pace or food choices, you have depleted the glycogen stores in your muscles. And you feel like crap. Happened to me once on a training run and I will NEVER let it happen again. All you can do is dig deep mentally and use your willpower to drag yourself across that finish line.
I have hit the wall of this deployment. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.
I'm tired of being tired, and I think I lost my sense of humor in the car, or maybe at a doctor's office.
I am also fighting the temptation of thinking that my husband's return will be some kind of silver bullet. Like the happiness fairy will sprinkle us with happy dust, and all will be sunshine and roses. We have a long summer of reintegration ahead of us. Last year, I committed a normal Army wife sin- starting to distance oneself emotionally from a soon-to-be-deployed spouse a few months before he (or she) goes. We will have to rebuild those bonds, with 6 kids running amuck in the background.
So there it is.
I'm at 22 miles, 4.2 to go, and feeling like I am never going to see the finish line.
Trying to take it one day at a time (me and the alcoholics). Trying to find just one thing to smile about each day. Digging deep to drag myself across that finish line and into my husband's arms.
It reminds me of the first marathon I ran (4 kids ago) in Richmond. I just passed the 22 mile mark and was rather enjoying my first marathon. I had trained well and was feeling fine. There were lots of interesting people to chat with, but one guy I had to leave behind. He said, "I feel like we're never going to get there." That is POISONOUS thinking. I picked up my pace and found a new person to talk to.
I am teetering on the brink of those same type of poisonous thoughts. You know them. You probably have thought some of them. Well, I am going to say them out loud. Verboten, I know. But sometimes seeing those thoughts in black and white robs them of their power.
"What was the point of getting married (or having kids) if he's never going to be here?"
"Good thing we're moving because I have taken over his closet space and his side of the bed."(This statement drips with sarcasm. You want neither his side of the bed, nor his closet space. You want HIM at home, dammit.)
"How are we supposed to reintegrate when he'll probably leave again in 12 months?"
"Of course HE thinks (insert kid's newest trouble making adventure) is funny, he's over THERE. I'd think it was funny from Afghanistan, too."
"Next time, I'LL deploy. HE can stay here with these crazy people."
For those of you without a running problem, "hitting the wall" is the feeling associated with a physiological condition. Be it your pace or food choices, you have depleted the glycogen stores in your muscles. And you feel like crap. Happened to me once on a training run and I will NEVER let it happen again. All you can do is dig deep mentally and use your willpower to drag yourself across that finish line.
I have hit the wall of this deployment. Stick a fork in me, I'm done.
I'm tired of being tired, and I think I lost my sense of humor in the car, or maybe at a doctor's office.
I am also fighting the temptation of thinking that my husband's return will be some kind of silver bullet. Like the happiness fairy will sprinkle us with happy dust, and all will be sunshine and roses. We have a long summer of reintegration ahead of us. Last year, I committed a normal Army wife sin- starting to distance oneself emotionally from a soon-to-be-deployed spouse a few months before he (or she) goes. We will have to rebuild those bonds, with 6 kids running amuck in the background.
So there it is.
I'm at 22 miles, 4.2 to go, and feeling like I am never going to see the finish line.
Trying to take it one day at a time (me and the alcoholics). Trying to find just one thing to smile about each day. Digging deep to drag myself across that finish line and into my husband's arms.
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