After a three week hiatus, My Husband's unit is back in the field (this makes all of May, June and half of July away from home). Overnight stays, no phone calls, the whole shebang.
I actually got to see him for lunch today...he came home to eat and shower after an interview with a General (he's up for the position of an aide). I haven't spoken to him in three days so I thought it would be nice to catch up a little.
My Husband was very distracted and tired. It's hard to talk to him when he's like this, since I feel like I'm burdening him with the details of my day.
I feel stupid even telling you this, but here's my example:
I've always secretly wanted to learn to sing. My older sister had flute lessons and my younger sister had piano lessons, but my parents were afraid music lessons of any kind for me would encourage me in my "impractical aspirations" to be an actor. So now that I'm out of my parents' house, I've been researching voice coaches and chose one in the neighborhood to work with.
It's exceptionally nerve-wracking for me...I have zero confidence in my voice and I've been regularly told I'm tone deaf. Plus, this is something I really care about, you know, so I want to be good at it. I was a wreck.
But my lesson went really well and I like my teacher a lot. I told My Husband all about it and showed him my "homework," a song she wants me to learn. As I sat at the table, singing it under my breath and trying to figure out how to read the music, My Husband shushed me. Put his finger to his lips and shushed me like I was a toddler in time-out.
He was on the phone with his Commanding Officer (CO) and instead of moving away from me, he decided I should be the one to be quiet.
Then he kissed me and went back to work.
And it's so stupid, I know. I mean, the man is trying to work, dammit. He's in the field all the time, he's tired and he's filthy and he's stressed.
But I feel insignificant. I feel invisible.
I wonder why it's harder to deal with his absences when he's home than when he's deployed. When he's overseas, he depends so much on seeing me and hearing about the inane details of my inane life I feel really...necessary. But here it's like being teased. He's home but he's never really home...he's sleeping or decompressing or thinking about work. So I can see him but I can never really reach him.
I mean, My Husband doesn't even read this blog.
So what do I do? I go to the shelter and walk the dogs. I read. I watch TV. I reset the wireless Internet after thunderstorms. I send Sympathy cards. I shop for groceries. I go to the gym. I try to focus on myself, but I didn't fall and love and get married to focus on myself.
Showing posts with label army life. Show all posts
Showing posts with label army life. Show all posts
Thursday, August 11, 2011
Monday, June 20, 2011
A Short Story
And now, a short story:
Generally speaking, Dale James avoided the PX the day after payday. Fighting the crowds, the baby carriages and the wayward carts was a mistake most army wives only made once. But with FRG co-leadership thrust into her hands just days before, Dale had no choice but to brave the post-paycheck multitude to pick up some necessities for the next meeting.
She was poring over printer ink prices when she heard the sharp, hushed tones that signaled the beginnings of a public argument. Turning slightly, she was surprised to see Specialist Forrest, one of her husband’s soldiers. As a lieutenant’s wife, Dale made an effort to learn the faces and names of everyone in Charlie Troop. Forrest’s cart butted up against that of a woman Dale didn’t know, pinning her into the office supply aisle.
The stranger was covered from head to toe in swaths of some kind of silky fabric patterned with red and gold flowers. Her red headscarf was pulled low on her forehead, almost to her eyebrows, so that not a hair peeked under its hem. Her eyes darted from the tired tile floor to Forrest’s face, whose breathless voice was starting to become loud enough to hear from where Dale stood.
“…that you’d even show yourself anywhere on post with that, that thing, on your head! I'm so tired of this shit. How dare you? How dare you come into our store, into our country, looking just like the fuckers that are trying to blow us up?”
Clenching her jaw, Dale pushed her own cart toward the fray and interrupted brightly, “Mr. Forrest, how are you?”
Whirling, Forrest scrutinized the intruder, “Oh, Mrs. James. Hi.”
“Now, I know that wasn’t you I heard using such foul language in a place crawling with kids. It must have been someone in the next aisle.”
Forrest colored slightly at being addressed so by the platoon leader’s wife. “I was just…I was…”
Dale interrupted, “No, of course it wasn’t you. You’ve got two young kids of your own, right? And I know you wouldn’t use words like that in front of someone else’s little ones. Speaking of, I’m sure you need to get right back to them. I’ll see you at the FRG meeting on Friday evening, won’t I?”
With a fierce look to the woman in the headscarf, Forrest mumbled a reply and shoved his cart quickly away. Her mouth set in a firm line, Dale watched the fuming young man disappear behind a display.
“I’m sorry about that.”
The stranger turned to Dale. “It’s the same almost every time we PCS. People call us traitors, call us spies. My son gets pushed down on the playground. My daughter cries about the time she will have to cover her hair. My husband and I were born here. We are Americans. And we are Muslim. It appears we can’t truly be both at once.”
Tilting her head slightly, she continued, “But you apologize for words that were spewed all over me by someone else. Why?”
“Do you hate the people who take your faith in God and twist it into a weapon for their own ends?” Dale replied.
“Yes,” the woman said, “It’s one of the reasons my husband enlisted.”
“I hate those who take my skin color and stretch it like a mask over the face of bigotry, claiming to represent an America that I wouldn’t want my husband defending.”
“What is your name?” the woman asked.
“Dale.”
“I’m Selah.”
“Hello, Selah.”
“Hello, Dale. And so, both of us seek to atone for the sins of strangers. We feel guilty for their thoughts and responsible for their actions. How strange.”
Dale looked into Selah’s eyes and said quietly, “We are women, after all.”
Generally speaking, Dale James avoided the PX the day after payday. Fighting the crowds, the baby carriages and the wayward carts was a mistake most army wives only made once. But with FRG co-leadership thrust into her hands just days before, Dale had no choice but to brave the post-paycheck multitude to pick up some necessities for the next meeting.
She was poring over printer ink prices when she heard the sharp, hushed tones that signaled the beginnings of a public argument. Turning slightly, she was surprised to see Specialist Forrest, one of her husband’s soldiers. As a lieutenant’s wife, Dale made an effort to learn the faces and names of everyone in Charlie Troop. Forrest’s cart butted up against that of a woman Dale didn’t know, pinning her into the office supply aisle.
The stranger was covered from head to toe in swaths of some kind of silky fabric patterned with red and gold flowers. Her red headscarf was pulled low on her forehead, almost to her eyebrows, so that not a hair peeked under its hem. Her eyes darted from the tired tile floor to Forrest’s face, whose breathless voice was starting to become loud enough to hear from where Dale stood.
“…that you’d even show yourself anywhere on post with that, that thing, on your head! I'm so tired of this shit. How dare you? How dare you come into our store, into our country, looking just like the fuckers that are trying to blow us up?”
Clenching her jaw, Dale pushed her own cart toward the fray and interrupted brightly, “Mr. Forrest, how are you?”
Whirling, Forrest scrutinized the intruder, “Oh, Mrs. James. Hi.”
“Now, I know that wasn’t you I heard using such foul language in a place crawling with kids. It must have been someone in the next aisle.”
Forrest colored slightly at being addressed so by the platoon leader’s wife. “I was just…I was…”
Dale interrupted, “No, of course it wasn’t you. You’ve got two young kids of your own, right? And I know you wouldn’t use words like that in front of someone else’s little ones. Speaking of, I’m sure you need to get right back to them. I’ll see you at the FRG meeting on Friday evening, won’t I?”
With a fierce look to the woman in the headscarf, Forrest mumbled a reply and shoved his cart quickly away. Her mouth set in a firm line, Dale watched the fuming young man disappear behind a display.
“I’m sorry about that.”
The stranger turned to Dale. “It’s the same almost every time we PCS. People call us traitors, call us spies. My son gets pushed down on the playground. My daughter cries about the time she will have to cover her hair. My husband and I were born here. We are Americans. And we are Muslim. It appears we can’t truly be both at once.”
Tilting her head slightly, she continued, “But you apologize for words that were spewed all over me by someone else. Why?”
“Do you hate the people who take your faith in God and twist it into a weapon for their own ends?” Dale replied.
“Yes,” the woman said, “It’s one of the reasons my husband enlisted.”
“I hate those who take my skin color and stretch it like a mask over the face of bigotry, claiming to represent an America that I wouldn’t want my husband defending.”
“What is your name?” the woman asked.
“Dale.”
“I’m Selah.”
“Hello, Selah.”
“Hello, Dale. And so, both of us seek to atone for the sins of strangers. We feel guilty for their thoughts and responsible for their actions. How strange.”
Dale looked into Selah’s eyes and said quietly, “We are women, after all.”
Monday, June 6, 2011
Clean Freak
When My Husband is about to leave for extended periods of time I get slightly psycho about cleaning. I never really understood why...I assumed it's about controlling something to make me feel better about the fact I can't control his time away from home.
This morning I figured out the real reason.
My Husband is gone for the next few days...overnight in the field doing training exercises. He left this morning about 4:30am, kissing me goodbye in the dark of our bedroom while I was still half asleep.
When I came home from my shift at the shelter a few hours later, the first thing I saw walking through the door were his running shoes...tossed at the base of the couch where he left them yesterday after returning from his track workout.
I can't really put into words the feeling of seeing something he touched a few hours ago and knowing he won't touch it again for days. It's just this huge reminder that he's gone and he won't be back for awhile.
This, of course, makes me think about how I would feel seeing those running shoes and knowing he'll never touch them again because he's dead.
Do all soldier's wives have death in the forefront of their minds like I do, or does my depression predispose me to dark thoughts like these?
So before he leaves I clean like a maniac so that everything is in its proper place...and most importantly, anything that belongs to My Husband is tucked safely out of sight until he returns and has some use for it. I stow away the physical reminders of his absence the way I ignore the truth of the dangerous nature of his job. Until I have a weak moment and those dismal thoughts, always hovering somewhere just out of consciousness, strike home.
I think I'll go to the gym and tire myself out so much that I can't think anymore.
This morning I figured out the real reason.
My Husband is gone for the next few days...overnight in the field doing training exercises. He left this morning about 4:30am, kissing me goodbye in the dark of our bedroom while I was still half asleep.
When I came home from my shift at the shelter a few hours later, the first thing I saw walking through the door were his running shoes...tossed at the base of the couch where he left them yesterday after returning from his track workout.
I can't really put into words the feeling of seeing something he touched a few hours ago and knowing he won't touch it again for days. It's just this huge reminder that he's gone and he won't be back for awhile.
This, of course, makes me think about how I would feel seeing those running shoes and knowing he'll never touch them again because he's dead.
Do all soldier's wives have death in the forefront of their minds like I do, or does my depression predispose me to dark thoughts like these?
So before he leaves I clean like a maniac so that everything is in its proper place...and most importantly, anything that belongs to My Husband is tucked safely out of sight until he returns and has some use for it. I stow away the physical reminders of his absence the way I ignore the truth of the dangerous nature of his job. Until I have a weak moment and those dismal thoughts, always hovering somewhere just out of consciousness, strike home.
I think I'll go to the gym and tire myself out so much that I can't think anymore.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Osama bin Laden is Still Dead
Buoy and I are exhausted. Last night while perusing the Internet about 9pm Central Time, I read on my homepage (CNN.com) the president was going to make a very important announcement from the White House in about a half an hour.
Now, any Army wife will tell you when the president makes an unscheduled announcement late night on a Sunday, it's usually a bad thing. Well, it may not be a "bad" thing, but it's definitely something that directly affects you. My Husband and I waited patiently for the president's speech and we speculated what this "dramatic national security event having nothing to do with Libya," as Wolf Blitzer said, could be. I thought Joe Biden died and that's why so many people had to be notified before Mr. Obama could come on the air.
As the specified time for the announcement came and went, the producers at CNN decided to break the news the president would later elaborate on...Osama bin Laden was dead. A group of special ops and/or Navy SEALS (I've heard both) entered the mansion where he's been hiding for what may have been years and shot it up for about 40 minutes. A woman attempted to shield bin Laden and was shot. His 19-year-old-son was shot. Apparently the soldiers offered bin Laden a chance to surrender; he refused and opened fire with an automatic weapon (this I'm not entirely sure of...I wouldn't fault the soldiers for shooting an unarmed fugitive, but I know why they're saying it if it's not true). The soldiers shot him at least once in the head.
They recovered his body after another woman at the compound concurred it was bin Laden. Taking it to a US ship, they proceeded to positively confirm his identity with DNA (Huh. Kinda wish police stations had that kind of technology for rape kits). Osama bin Laden was then given a "proper Muslim burial at sea." I don't know about that part either, but at this point I'm pleased enough with the success of the mission and the lack of American casualties that I don't care about white lies like the government keeping a terrorist's body.
I wept with relief as I watched people gather in front of the White House to celebrate. I texted almost everyone in my phone contacts and made My Husband call his mom. I wanted to shout the news from our balcony; I wanted to knock on every door in the building. I like the fact that so many of my peers heard the news first from me. It stems from some journalistic spark still burning inside me, I guess.
And so the conversation turns to what will come next. I'm sure terrorism will continue...in fact I think it will get worse before it gets better. But considering the amount of information the soldiers recovered from the compound (if it was safe enough to hide bin Laden just think about the records kept there as well) and the rage stemming from the murder of their leader, I hope people will get sloppy enough to get caught.
I'm trying not to get too excited, but this could mean the end of our deployments. No Afghanistan...please God, no Afghanistan.
But life continues. My Husband left about 3am for a week of overnight field exercises. May and June are full of field exercises for us. He'll have weekends off, for what that's worth.
We stayed up all night last night watching the coverage of bin Laden's death. The celebrations reminded me of some of the video from September 11 when Islamic fundamentalists passed out candy in the streets, danced, sang and shouted with joy at our destruction. Life is very strange right about now.
So Buoy and I spent today schlepping around after I got home from my shift at the shelter, attempting to recover from an exceptionally emotional weekend. I've never cried so much about complete strangers, both good and evil events, in my entire life.
Now, any Army wife will tell you when the president makes an unscheduled announcement late night on a Sunday, it's usually a bad thing. Well, it may not be a "bad" thing, but it's definitely something that directly affects you. My Husband and I waited patiently for the president's speech and we speculated what this "dramatic national security event having nothing to do with Libya," as Wolf Blitzer said, could be. I thought Joe Biden died and that's why so many people had to be notified before Mr. Obama could come on the air.
As the specified time for the announcement came and went, the producers at CNN decided to break the news the president would later elaborate on...Osama bin Laden was dead. A group of special ops and/or Navy SEALS (I've heard both) entered the mansion where he's been hiding for what may have been years and shot it up for about 40 minutes. A woman attempted to shield bin Laden and was shot. His 19-year-old-son was shot. Apparently the soldiers offered bin Laden a chance to surrender; he refused and opened fire with an automatic weapon (this I'm not entirely sure of...I wouldn't fault the soldiers for shooting an unarmed fugitive, but I know why they're saying it if it's not true). The soldiers shot him at least once in the head.
They recovered his body after another woman at the compound concurred it was bin Laden. Taking it to a US ship, they proceeded to positively confirm his identity with DNA (Huh. Kinda wish police stations had that kind of technology for rape kits). Osama bin Laden was then given a "proper Muslim burial at sea." I don't know about that part either, but at this point I'm pleased enough with the success of the mission and the lack of American casualties that I don't care about white lies like the government keeping a terrorist's body.
I wept with relief as I watched people gather in front of the White House to celebrate. I texted almost everyone in my phone contacts and made My Husband call his mom. I wanted to shout the news from our balcony; I wanted to knock on every door in the building. I like the fact that so many of my peers heard the news first from me. It stems from some journalistic spark still burning inside me, I guess.
And so the conversation turns to what will come next. I'm sure terrorism will continue...in fact I think it will get worse before it gets better. But considering the amount of information the soldiers recovered from the compound (if it was safe enough to hide bin Laden just think about the records kept there as well) and the rage stemming from the murder of their leader, I hope people will get sloppy enough to get caught.
I'm trying not to get too excited, but this could mean the end of our deployments. No Afghanistan...please God, no Afghanistan.
But life continues. My Husband left about 3am for a week of overnight field exercises. May and June are full of field exercises for us. He'll have weekends off, for what that's worth.
We stayed up all night last night watching the coverage of bin Laden's death. The celebrations reminded me of some of the video from September 11 when Islamic fundamentalists passed out candy in the streets, danced, sang and shouted with joy at our destruction. Life is very strange right about now.
So Buoy and I spent today schlepping around after I got home from my shift at the shelter, attempting to recover from an exceptionally emotional weekend. I've never cried so much about complete strangers, both good and evil events, in my entire life.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
This is the Army, Mrs. Delaney
I've mentioned before My Husband's squadron is down a few NCOs; people are moving up and moving on.
People are also doing stupid shit and having stupid shit done to them and it's starting to affect my life.
In the fall an NCO got shot in the leg by an elk hunter while his troop was doing a field exercise. It shattered his femur and he's looking at at least a year of physical therapy. Our Lieutenant Colonel and our Sergeant Major recently refused the squadron's request to have him relocated to a "desk job" since he can't do anything physical normally required of a guy in his position. So he's staying but one of the other officers or NCOs has to pick up his slack.
And now we've lost another NCO. This particular Sergeant First Class (SFC) got arrested for DUI over the weekend and before the leadership could decide what to do with him he resigned his position in My Husband's troop. Besides that, his wife was the leader of our FRG (Family Readiness Group), so she resigned her position too.
So now My Husband's at work all day today, in the field all night and then at work again tomorrow because our dumbass former SFC had a few beers and felt it necessary to mouth off to a couple of local cops. And I'm the new co-leader of our FRG.
Fantastic.
I've never seen morale this low. They were happier in Iraq, for God's sake. I can't comment on the enlisted men (since I barely interact with them) but the mid-level leadership is the gloomiest bunch of guys these days. They're tired, they're spread way too thin and they're working more hours than is healthy.
And the apparent disconnect between the upper leadership and My Husband's level is incredibly frustrating. You'd think this Lt. Colonel could take 15 minutes out of his day to walk through the troop offices and tell the guys they're each doing the work of three men and they're a fine example to the rest of the unit. Maybe he could cut them some slack on their workload or give them more reasonable timeline to get it done. Maybe he could send me a quick email and thank me for stepping up and volunteering to take control of an FRG steeped in disagreement and disarray.
I'm not going to hold my breath.
So if your congressman is telling you the army cares about its soldiers and that family programs are at an all-time high or that we're the military's most important resource and they treat us as such, you call BULLSHIT. It's been my experience that any officer above a Major cares more about themselves and their careers than any of their men. And considering a huge chunk of these men (and women, of course) are between the ages of 17 and 23, away from home for the first time, have kids of their own, have marital issues and/or PTSD, they need to be taken care of.
In our squadron and our troop, all of that care is falling to My Husband and his peers. And all of My Husband's care has fallen to me.
Good thing I don't need anyone to take care of me.
People are also doing stupid shit and having stupid shit done to them and it's starting to affect my life.
In the fall an NCO got shot in the leg by an elk hunter while his troop was doing a field exercise. It shattered his femur and he's looking at at least a year of physical therapy. Our Lieutenant Colonel and our Sergeant Major recently refused the squadron's request to have him relocated to a "desk job" since he can't do anything physical normally required of a guy in his position. So he's staying but one of the other officers or NCOs has to pick up his slack.
And now we've lost another NCO. This particular Sergeant First Class (SFC) got arrested for DUI over the weekend and before the leadership could decide what to do with him he resigned his position in My Husband's troop. Besides that, his wife was the leader of our FRG (Family Readiness Group), so she resigned her position too.
So now My Husband's at work all day today, in the field all night and then at work again tomorrow because our dumbass former SFC had a few beers and felt it necessary to mouth off to a couple of local cops. And I'm the new co-leader of our FRG.
Fantastic.
I've never seen morale this low. They were happier in Iraq, for God's sake. I can't comment on the enlisted men (since I barely interact with them) but the mid-level leadership is the gloomiest bunch of guys these days. They're tired, they're spread way too thin and they're working more hours than is healthy.
And the apparent disconnect between the upper leadership and My Husband's level is incredibly frustrating. You'd think this Lt. Colonel could take 15 minutes out of his day to walk through the troop offices and tell the guys they're each doing the work of three men and they're a fine example to the rest of the unit. Maybe he could cut them some slack on their workload or give them more reasonable timeline to get it done. Maybe he could send me a quick email and thank me for stepping up and volunteering to take control of an FRG steeped in disagreement and disarray.
I'm not going to hold my breath.
So if your congressman is telling you the army cares about its soldiers and that family programs are at an all-time high or that we're the military's most important resource and they treat us as such, you call BULLSHIT. It's been my experience that any officer above a Major cares more about themselves and their careers than any of their men. And considering a huge chunk of these men (and women, of course) are between the ages of 17 and 23, away from home for the first time, have kids of their own, have marital issues and/or PTSD, they need to be taken care of.
In our squadron and our troop, all of that care is falling to My Husband and his peers. And all of My Husband's care has fallen to me.
Good thing I don't need anyone to take care of me.
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
Baby Talk Part Deux: A Decision
On Saturday My Husband ran in an annual St. Patrick's Day 10K here in town. He placed 45th out of about 1500 people. In case you couldn't tell, he's a runner...track & field all through high school and college.
Afterward he was feeling pretty sore so we spent the rest of the evening at home relaxing. Eventually our conversation turned to starting a family, and we actually made a decision.
I'm going off birth control in April, May, June and possibly July. If we get pregnant, we get pregnant. If we don't, then I'm going back on birth control.
We came to this conclusion after My Husband's superiors informed him his squad is more than likely deploying to Afghanistan in April 2012. July 2011 is nine months from April 2012, so that was the stop marker we decided on. He and I both would rather not my due date be right around the time he's scheduled to go overseas.
We also discussed waiting until his five year contract with the army is up...but he wants to make it to Company Commander, which is probably a seven year stint. My Husband told me he didn't want to wait that long to start a family. Sidenote: I know it's all the hormones flying around in my brain after thousands of years of evolution, but I can think of only a few things sexier than the man you love telling you he wants to have children with you.
I suggested we look at the approximate timeline for the next few years. I'm quite the control freak and I would probably plan this out until Judgement Day. My Husband, wisely, pointed out the futility of this...we're an Army family. You never really know what's coming, and if we attempted to map out every detail based on a "perfect" scenario we'd go insane. I told him I don't know if I could leave such a major decision in God's hands.
My Husband said, "Lark, it's already in God's hands. You're only accepting what's already true."
His serenity amazes me sometimes.
I asked him if he was prepared to miss our baby's "firsts": rolling over, talking, walking. He told me it would hurt but it was worth it to know we had a family of our own. Afghanistan, of course, is a completely different deployment than Iraq. He may shut himself off emotionally the entire year in order to deal with it, which will prevent him from pining for his wife and child.
I told him I would only agree to this if he acknowledged that if I thought our little family wasn't "meshing" when he returned, we'd go to counselling immediately. He consented. So this is where we're at. I feel like I've just chosen a college...I'm excited and terrified and can't wait to begin but desperately want everything to stay exactly the same.
PROS/CONS of Our Decision:
PROS:
1. Having a baby with the love of my life!
2. Having a baby at a young enough age where the problems (hopefully) are minimal.
3. Pregnancy at a time where my husband can be there for me.
4. Possibly having a newborn while he's home as well.
5. Getting to be a mom.
6. Getting everyone's attention almost all the time.
7. Above deserves two spots. I love attention.
8. Focusing on my own health and well-being because I'm focusing on the baby's.
9. Hormones making me beautiful (hopefully).
10. Not being fat pregnant through the heat of summer.
11. A due date in the winter/early spring with a good chunk of time to lose pounds before summer.
12. Having people do things for me because of the belly.
13. Maybe not even getting pregnant at all.
CONS:
1. OH. MY. GOD. I'm gonna be a mom.
2. My Husband possibly missing all our baby's firsts.
3. Being alone with a newborn.
4. Having a newborn while My Husband's deployed...can't wallow like I did last round.
5. Oh, the responsibility...
6. Dealing with My Husband's mom for 12 months. Alone. "No, Mom, I don't think you should move in with me to 'help out.'"
7. Being the only one of my friends/sisters with a child. Talk about being a guinea pig.
There are more PROS than CONS and all the PROS are big and most of the CONS are nitty-gritty. Plus, the idea is that if we do get pregnant in the next few months, it means that God knows I can handle it. If I can just keep reminding myself of that...
Stay tuned. Things in my life are getting serious.
Afterward he was feeling pretty sore so we spent the rest of the evening at home relaxing. Eventually our conversation turned to starting a family, and we actually made a decision.
I'm going off birth control in April, May, June and possibly July. If we get pregnant, we get pregnant. If we don't, then I'm going back on birth control.
We came to this conclusion after My Husband's superiors informed him his squad is more than likely deploying to Afghanistan in April 2012. July 2011 is nine months from April 2012, so that was the stop marker we decided on. He and I both would rather not my due date be right around the time he's scheduled to go overseas.
We also discussed waiting until his five year contract with the army is up...but he wants to make it to Company Commander, which is probably a seven year stint. My Husband told me he didn't want to wait that long to start a family. Sidenote: I know it's all the hormones flying around in my brain after thousands of years of evolution, but I can think of only a few things sexier than the man you love telling you he wants to have children with you.
I suggested we look at the approximate timeline for the next few years. I'm quite the control freak and I would probably plan this out until Judgement Day. My Husband, wisely, pointed out the futility of this...we're an Army family. You never really know what's coming, and if we attempted to map out every detail based on a "perfect" scenario we'd go insane. I told him I don't know if I could leave such a major decision in God's hands.
My Husband said, "Lark, it's already in God's hands. You're only accepting what's already true."
His serenity amazes me sometimes.
I asked him if he was prepared to miss our baby's "firsts": rolling over, talking, walking. He told me it would hurt but it was worth it to know we had a family of our own. Afghanistan, of course, is a completely different deployment than Iraq. He may shut himself off emotionally the entire year in order to deal with it, which will prevent him from pining for his wife and child.
I told him I would only agree to this if he acknowledged that if I thought our little family wasn't "meshing" when he returned, we'd go to counselling immediately. He consented. So this is where we're at. I feel like I've just chosen a college...I'm excited and terrified and can't wait to begin but desperately want everything to stay exactly the same.
PROS/CONS of Our Decision:
PROS:
1. Having a baby with the love of my life!
2. Having a baby at a young enough age where the problems (hopefully) are minimal.
3. Pregnancy at a time where my husband can be there for me.
4. Possibly having a newborn while he's home as well.
5. Getting to be a mom.
6. Getting everyone's attention almost all the time.
7. Above deserves two spots. I love attention.
8. Focusing on my own health and well-being because I'm focusing on the baby's.
9. Hormones making me beautiful (hopefully).
10. Not being fat pregnant through the heat of summer.
11. A due date in the winter/early spring with a good chunk of time to lose pounds before summer.
12. Having people do things for me because of the belly.
13. Maybe not even getting pregnant at all.
CONS:
1. OH. MY. GOD. I'm gonna be a mom.
2. My Husband possibly missing all our baby's firsts.
3. Being alone with a newborn.
4. Having a newborn while My Husband's deployed...can't wallow like I did last round.
5. Oh, the responsibility...
6. Dealing with My Husband's mom for 12 months. Alone. "No, Mom, I don't think you should move in with me to 'help out.'"
7. Being the only one of my friends/sisters with a child. Talk about being a guinea pig.
There are more PROS than CONS and all the PROS are big and most of the CONS are nitty-gritty. Plus, the idea is that if we do get pregnant in the next few months, it means that God knows I can handle it. If I can just keep reminding myself of that...
Stay tuned. Things in my life are getting serious.
Tuesday, March 15, 2011
Worst Disney Movie Ever
I have a friend who LOVES DisneyWorld. She interned at the park every summer during college (she played the character "Stitch" her third year!) and has wanted to get married there since we were like, ten.
Now, you should know that I too love DisneyWorld. My grandmother (my mom's mom) loved all things Disney and integrated it into all our visits with her. For example, she had a bag where she'd store gifts before giving them away called "The Mary Poppins Bag." The hidden panic room in their New York home (which they used for storage) was called "The Alice in Wonderland Room."
My grandmother and grandfather were (and still are) very wealthy. My family isn't, but we benefitted a great deal from their generosity and took a number of trips to DisneyWorld, sometimes with my aunt and uncle and their boys, too.
DisneyWorld is my "Happy Place." I'm not optimistic as a rule, and DisneyWorld is the ONLY place I remember all the good things and none of the bad things. Of course my parents had vacation fights...my dad's never spent money without some regret...there was plenty of rivalry with my sisters for attention and any number of incidents in which I was punished for wandering off. But all that stuff falls by the wayside when I think about being with my whole family in a place that's warm and sunny and magical.
My Husband has never been to DisneyWorld. Now that the friend I mentioned at the beginning of this post is getting married (May 11th, yay Kate!) there, we planned a weeklong vacation to celebrate her marriage and so I could share all the DisneyWorld goodness with the love of my life.
We've been planning an all out vacation, our first that will be just us since we've been married. Nine days, themed Disney resort, the works. I've been bugging My Husband to get the OK from his commanding officer (CO) so I can use our Southwest miles to book plane tickets.
Enter the multi-tentacled monster that is the United States Army. My Husband will be spending the entire month of May with his squadron in the field doing training exercises. Oh wait, not the ENTIRE month...they have Memorial Day weekend off, just in time to go to My Husband's college roommate's wedding in which he's a groomsman. Of course.
And this is after he's scheduled to spend the whole month of April in Fort Benning, GA at Scout School.
So no DisneyWorld wedding/vacation for the Delaneys.
Now, I've heard all the "army life" bullshit about missed vacations and holidays and this "is the life I've chosen" and all that. I KNOW. I know this is a hard life. I did the deployment, I'm doing the training and the 14-hour workdays. I know complaining is pointless and unproductive.
But I wanted to get married in September and we had to marry in July because of his deployment. I wanted a honeymoon...same deal. I just...I only wanted to go to DisneyWorld with My Husband and see my friend get married. We've been planning this for more than a year and now...nothing. I'm so tired of having my plans wrecked and having to pretend it's no big deal to keep the peace.
And so here I am; learning to live a life that someone else is in charge of. And trying desperately to be grateful for it despite everything.
Now, you should know that I too love DisneyWorld. My grandmother (my mom's mom) loved all things Disney and integrated it into all our visits with her. For example, she had a bag where she'd store gifts before giving them away called "The Mary Poppins Bag." The hidden panic room in their New York home (which they used for storage) was called "The Alice in Wonderland Room."
My grandmother and grandfather were (and still are) very wealthy. My family isn't, but we benefitted a great deal from their generosity and took a number of trips to DisneyWorld, sometimes with my aunt and uncle and their boys, too.
DisneyWorld is my "Happy Place." I'm not optimistic as a rule, and DisneyWorld is the ONLY place I remember all the good things and none of the bad things. Of course my parents had vacation fights...my dad's never spent money without some regret...there was plenty of rivalry with my sisters for attention and any number of incidents in which I was punished for wandering off. But all that stuff falls by the wayside when I think about being with my whole family in a place that's warm and sunny and magical.
My Husband has never been to DisneyWorld. Now that the friend I mentioned at the beginning of this post is getting married (May 11th, yay Kate!) there, we planned a weeklong vacation to celebrate her marriage and so I could share all the DisneyWorld goodness with the love of my life.
We've been planning an all out vacation, our first that will be just us since we've been married. Nine days, themed Disney resort, the works. I've been bugging My Husband to get the OK from his commanding officer (CO) so I can use our Southwest miles to book plane tickets.
Enter the multi-tentacled monster that is the United States Army. My Husband will be spending the entire month of May with his squadron in the field doing training exercises. Oh wait, not the ENTIRE month...they have Memorial Day weekend off, just in time to go to My Husband's college roommate's wedding in which he's a groomsman. Of course.
And this is after he's scheduled to spend the whole month of April in Fort Benning, GA at Scout School.
So no DisneyWorld wedding/vacation for the Delaneys.
Now, I've heard all the "army life" bullshit about missed vacations and holidays and this "is the life I've chosen" and all that. I KNOW. I know this is a hard life. I did the deployment, I'm doing the training and the 14-hour workdays. I know complaining is pointless and unproductive.
But I wanted to get married in September and we had to marry in July because of his deployment. I wanted a honeymoon...same deal. I just...I only wanted to go to DisneyWorld with My Husband and see my friend get married. We've been planning this for more than a year and now...nothing. I'm so tired of having my plans wrecked and having to pretend it's no big deal to keep the peace.
And so here I am; learning to live a life that someone else is in charge of. And trying desperately to be grateful for it despite everything.
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