Wednesday, December 16, 2009
Here's where I'm honest - there's a fair amount of guilt associated with his homecoming, and with my own happiness. I can't help but think of the wife who's husband came home in a casket 3 1/2 months ago. It's almost Christmas, and she doesn't have that opportunity to spend it with her husband. I can't even imagine what pain she must feel, and because of this, I feel a modicum of guilt feeling so happy. I don't want to feel guilty, but I do. It's not overwhelming, but it affects me. Maybe I'm more sensitive than I ever thought. How many of the other wives/girlfriends are thinking about her, or are so selfish they are only focused on themselves?
Or is it not selfishness? I really don't know. I'm confused as to how I should feel about this. I don't think I'll ever forget hearing that news. It will stay with me the rest of my life. Hopefully, with time, that pain will subside. For the widow, though, it's probably a lifetime. My thoughts and prayers are always, always with her.
Thursday, December 3, 2009
I've been cleaning all day, and it's been therapeutic for the most part. It's always nice to have a spotless bathroom. That is, until I use the pot tomorrow morning.
I'll get over it, and tomorrow's another day. I hate falling into a funk, hate it hate it hate it. I wish I could kick my own ass some days.
Tuesday, November 24, 2009
* This isn't the first, and it won't be the last holiday he's been gone. Good lord, I think we've covered every holiday, birthday, anniversary, etc. without him. It's not that I get used to it, I am just a bit jaded by now.
* Obviously I'm not throwing around timeframes, but he will be home sooner than later. Of course I miss him, and wish he could be here, but he can't. He's at war - it's his job, and we chose this life - so I understand.
* We have family coming to spend Thanksgiving with us. Thank God my brother-in-law can cook, because the Moroz sisters just aren't very proficient cooks. We can, but we are also smart enough to have married good men that can cook. Mama didn't raise no dummies.
* To Adam, it's just another day over there. I know I will hear the sadness in his voice, that he can't be with us, and I will do my best to let him know that yes, I miss him and wish he could be here, but at the same time, try to keep it lighthearted. I can always tell when he's sort of sad, because his voice gets really low and monotone.
I suppose I sound pretty bitchy, writing a whole post about not being upset my husband isn't here for Thanksgiving. This year, I am most thankful he is alive. There are many wives, husbands, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers, etc. who will never, ever share the holidays with their loved ones again. That hits home, and shows me the bigger picture of life.
Happy Thanksgiving, please don't forget about our troops overseas who will not be with their family, and keep yours that much closer.
Wednesday, November 18, 2009
Have I done any of this? Yeah, I painted the bathroom and the vanity and replaced the silver stuff with bronze. It took me weeks, but I was very busy with the logistics of tragedy and being an FRG leader.
Now that the end is sort of in sight, I'm rushing around like a damn fool. I need to clean! I need to buy every single thing for Thanksgiving dinner! I need to get the guest room ready by next Wednesday!
In reality, it's not much. It just feels like it, because I didn't do much during the deployment, always pushing it off, thinking I had plenty of time.
Here's where I could really kick my own ass - I was told that our company HAD to spend our money that was so generously donated. I had to come up with something within a few hours. I'm not a good thinker under pressure, and usually my brain farts one of those juicy, better-check-your-panties farts. You know which ones I mean.
I decided, oh, it would be nice to make an ornament for each and every wife in the company. After some trial and tribulation, I think I've figured it out (and lots of anger and frustration). It will be time and labor-intensive, but I think anything handmade is always nice. Then I tallied up how many wives....55. Fifty-fucking-five. I'm a glutton for punishment.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Why, as mothers, do we judge each other so harshly? Who gives anyone the right to judge what we choose to do with our own lives? I believe that the most outspoken ones (on both sides) are those that are the most miserable, and choose to target the other women for their choices in a pathetic attempt to justify their own choices. I could be totally wrong, but I see no other valid reason for some women to criticize anyone else's life.
In fact, I see no reason for anyone to judge someone by how they choose to live their life. It's the reason why I only have a few close friends...I don't like people up my ass, in my business. Since moving to a small town, I have heard more gossip about people I have never met than in my entire life. I live and let live, and while I have a certain amount of curiosity of how others live, I could care less. I am the happiest I have ever been in my entire life (current deployment not included).
If someone wants to judge me for not working, fuck 'em. I made the decision after working for 10 years (mostly at-home, and when I did go into the office, my son was with me) to quit, because the office decided that children were no longer welcome. I packed up my shit and resigned that day. My family will always come first. Because Adam is either deployed, training, or working long hours, I want Addison to have a constant presence of at least one parent around.
It's hard enough worrying if his dad will return from overseas (and the poor kid had a nightmare that Adam died ... that will break any mother's heart). He knows I am here every day when he gets home from school, even though he says he'd prefer me to be gone at least half an hour. He's exerting that independence recently, which I will not quash, but I would like him to have that comfort right now.
I don't give two shits whether you are a working mom or a stay-at-home mom, or somewhere in between. Live your own life, and quit worrying what everyone else is doing with theirs.
Monday, November 9, 2009
Today's better. I have a spark of energy. I have a better attitude. I refuse to sit around feeling sorry for myself, even though it's so much easier. I'm a fighter, not a lover, and will fight the loneliness until he's back home. Addison and I are counting down the days (even though we don't have a set date yet, just a general idea). That makes it easier, knowing it's closer on the horizon than it was yesterday. Until then, I'm counting my blessings every single moment of every single day. I highly recommend it...you might realize life isn't so bad.
Friday, October 30, 2009
I was amazed at the number of houses that seemed to just not give two shits what the outside of their home looked like. There were a lot that looked really nice, who had pretty palms and flowers, don't get me wrong. And I can only assume that the 20+ houses who leave their garage door open about a foot do it because they have a cat. If I was a burglar (and I'm not sure why my mind thinks like this), I could totally shimmy me and my ghetto booty under that door and be in their house, lickety split.
When I got home 2.5 miles later, I tried to look objectively at my own house, and see what others would see through their eyes. Ummm, yeah, I'm an ass...the grass needs to be cut, I need to de-leaf the landscaping, weed out the old dead shit, etc. It's not that bad, but bad enough to where Addison and I will be spending some time on it this weekend. I hate doing yard work. Adam and Addison do the yard work. The inside is my job.
It's about time I stop pretending like there is no outside of the house and take care of it. Adam's not here, and hasn't been for weeks and weeks and weeks. Thank God Addison asks if he can mow. Do it to it, Boy.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
Here's where I might sound unjustly cruel. Get over it. It's not all about you. Our men are at WAR, and if they call you once a week, be grateful. Be grateful your husband is alive and well. Others aren't that lucky, and will never talk to their husband on the phone again, crappy connection, dropped calls and all.
I'm sorry if your husband's job is an inconvenience to you. He volunteered to join the Army, he volunteered to be in this unit, he might have even signed the dotted line more than once. Not all of us knew exactly what we were getting into, dating or marrying this type of Soldier, but most of us did, or have chosen to keep living this life. It's not an easy life, but no one ever promised life would be easy. If they did, you should find them, and kick their ass for lying to you.
No doubt we also sacrifice for our husbands and their jobs. But to complain constantly is not going to change anything. That's not to say I don't complain, because sometimes it helps to vent. I'm not perfect...far from it. I don't particularly like reality. But I'm doing my best every day to deal with it, and realize the guys are busy. Let them do their jobs. God knows they'd much rather be home with us, going to our kids' sports events, carving pumpkins, watching football on Sunday, and so on. But they aren't. And no amount of complaining is going to change it.
Wednesday, October 28, 2009
I started sending him packages in 2001. At that time, though, the box could be no bigger than a shoebox, and we had to bring them to his unit, because they didn't have an address, and they got shipped right there from Fort Benning. You know what it's like to try to cram stuff into a shoebox? My feet are sized 6 1/2. Being the rebel I am, I would go to Wal-Mart and buy the cheapest boots I could find, throw them away and use the box, because really, shoes did come in them, right?
I've been averaging about three boxes a month right now. Of course, there's always at least 10 cans of his beloved Copenhagen. Then the dilemma hits me...what the hell else can I fill up this box with?
The second Adam gets on the plane to deploy, he starts a diet. (I'm not sure why, he knows I'm a chubby chaser.) This means I don't send him cookies, brownies, candy, etc., because it will just go into the community pile. He asks me to send "healthy" stuff. That's like asking Willy Wonka to shop for him.
One deployment, I sent him a few bags of dried fruit. That's healthy, right? Except I forgot his allergy to sulfa, and the fruit is dried in sulfa. He did let me know his medic really enjoyed it.
Another deployment, I went to the cheap toy aisle in Wal-Mart (you know, the one where everything is a dollar, and you know within 10 seconds of playing with it it's going to break?) and got a recorder (I call it a flute, that's what it basically is), silly putty, etc. He seemed to enjoy it, and it broke up the monotony of beef jerky and hunting magazines.
Now I've got a new angle, and unless you know us, you'll probably think we're crazy. (We are.) I had the usual array while packing up a box last night...Bass Masters magazine, hunting magazine, beef jerky, Copenhagen, etc. It was still looking pretty sparse, so I consulted Addison and said, "Go look in the pantry, and find something we'll never eat while Dad's gone." He picked out a can of kidney beans. Now that I think about it, they're my kidney beans, when I make my Paula Deen chili. Anyway, Addison got a Sharpie and wrote on the top, "We ain't never gonna eat these." (Yes, the improper grammar was my idea.)
The beans are now nestled among the other goodies, ready to be shipped out tomorrow. I wish I could be there when Adam opens the box, and pulls out a can of freakin' kidney beans. I have no doubt he'll first be like, "WTF?", and then he'll laugh his ass off.
I'm also willing to be no one else will be getting kidney beans in their care packages.
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
Anyway, there are about 40+ wives in said company. For the most part, they are independent and self-sufficient. Some do not contact me at all. Some contact me almost every day for things that I cannot possibly do for them unless I have a magic wand and fairy dust. That's all fine and good. I put myself out there to help everyone, regardless of it being something simple or something earth-shattering and life-changing. (Which has happened, and it's something I never want to experience again, God willing.)
Last night I got PISSED. I got a text at 11:22 p.m. (yes, P.M.) letting me know that this wife was back in town. (When they leave the area for more than 24 hours, they have to let me know, and I pass the information on, just in case something happens to their husband.)
I was asleep by 10, which is very rare for me. I'm a night owl, usually going to sleep after 11 or 12, so waking up at 11:22 annoyed the living fuck out of me. How inconsiderate. If she was afraid she'd forget to let me know (and it's not required to let me know, unless they had an open-ended trip) she could have written it down to let me know in the morning. She could have emailed me the information. But no, it had to be a text.
I know I put myself out there and offer to help anyone with most anything, but let's have some consideration for others - more pointedly, me. Not a day goes by that I don't do something FRG-related, some days spending hours doing it. I'm not complaining, but you will be on my shit list the next time you wake me up.
Monday, October 26, 2009
This morning, though, I got in the shower first. When I got out, I saw breaking news that 14 Americans had died in helicopter crashes in two different parts of Afghanistan. Talk about my heart dropping to my feet...
Of course, the first thing I think is, please don't let it be Adam. Please don't let it be his company, his unit, his regiment. Then I feel guilty, and say a prayer for those who died.
Then I started to wonder "Would I have been notified already? Is the news ahead of notification? What unit was it?" I woke up ready to go shopping for Christmas decorations, and didn't know if I should leave the house.
I decided to stop be paranoid and just get out of the house, and I'm glad I did. It was a welcome diversion from the 24/7 reality of being a wife with a husband overseas. And I of course got some great stuff, because, I'm all about Christmas.
Tonight I will count my blessings.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
I've been a bit OCD this year. It's going to be the best Christmas ever, and I'm already so excited I began my shopping early. I have one more thing to buy for my mom, then I'm done with shopping, except, you know, that whole Santa thing. I really wish he was real, because it would save me an assload of money, especially on a child who already has everything (except an XBox, PS3, etc., but I don't find that they are necessities when you already have every other gaming system). This year the big present is a laptop...my 10-year-old actually chats with girls on Facebook. I'm sort of leery about this, and tell him to not be a stalker and don't be mean, but OF COURSE he already knows this, because 10-year-old boys know everything. Or so he tells me.
It's such a relief to have the shopping out of the way, so I can focus on decorations. This is our first Christmas in our house, in a REAL house, not on-post housing...ahhhhh. It's still so strange to me to realize we own a house - I feel like an adult. I really appreciate it too. Thirteen years of living in military housing will do that to a girl.
I might be rushing the season, but I am so looking forward to it that it's not even funny. I won't be putting the tree up anytime soon (I need to buy a new fake one, we chucked our old one before moving last year, because the expensive pre-lit one had a whole section of bulbs burnt out.) I have no doubt I'll have it up before Thanksgiving, but not too soon, only because Thanksgiving is late again this year.
Tis the season yo.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
I've written about this before, but I think sometimes it deems repeating. I have depression. Dysthymia, to be exact. Dysthymia is an ongoing, low-grade depression. Stress can exacerbate major depression. I found this out when Adam did a paper on dysthymia for a class. (It was nice to see him try to learn more about what affected me, and how to deal with it.) I found it a tad bit hilarious that I married a man in the military without ever knowing I had dysthymia. Stress? Yeah, what military wife doesn't deal with stress?
I'm glad that depression is no longer a social stigma. It can really, really hinder me, and if people know this about me, and understand it, it's that much more helpful to me. I can't understand people who don't think medication is necessary. (I will point out that I am not on any sort of medication, but I feel strongly about this.) If your friend told you she had cancer, would you tell her not to treat it? Depression is an illness, and if it can be helped with medication, why not?
If you've never experienced depression, count your fucking blessings. If you know someone who does, try to understand. It's not something we can just "snap out of" or forget about. It affects us every minute of every day. I would love to be depression-free for the rest of my life. But that's not possible. Dysthymia will affect me for the rest of my life.
I've learned the warning signs of when I'm falling into a major depression. I've had two major depressive episodes in my life. I hit rock bottom, literally. I look back now and am glad I'm alive. I don't even remember much of those episodes, that's how unlike myself I was at that time. I thank God for those around me who helped and understood, and saved me before it was too late.
Depression is real. (Oh damn I sound like the Cymbalta commercials that actually make me more depressed.) Life is tough, no doubt, and depression can make it seem that much tougher. If you have a loved one with depression, reach out to them. Sometimes we need more help than we let on, or even know that we do.
Monday, October 12, 2009
I got angry the other day. I'm not sure if I was justified in feeling the way I do, but sometimes I tend to fly off the handle. It happens.
With the advent of Facebook, e-mail, even texting, it was old news that Addison and I were sick. I got an e-mail from a wife, letting me know another wife was sick, and maybe I should check up on her. That's when I lost it. Who called me? Who asked, at any point, if we needed anything?
Yes, I'm stubborn and all, and don't ask for help. Maybe it's my own fault for projecting that I am Super Woman and can do it all. Well, I can't. Even if I refused help, a simple, "Hey, I know you're both sick, Adam's gone and you have no family in the area. Is there anything you need or want that I can help you with?" would have meant the world to me.
Maybe it's time for me to pull back some, to let people take care of themselves, since they don't seem to worry about anyone else besides themselves anyway. Maybe it's time for me to focus on myself and my son, instead of worrying about everyone else. Hell, maybe I need a whole attitude adjustment.
Whatever it may be, it needs to change.
Friday, October 2, 2009
I know, I know, it's just my boy kicking for the two points after the touchdown, but I've seen grown adults who can't kick like this. So, being the incredibly proud mom I am, I'm subjecting you to it.
If you listen closely, you'll hear me saying, "Come on boy..." Then I giggle after he kicks it into the woodline, because I was so excited for him, and my nervousness vanished.
Thursday, October 1, 2009
Yes, it's official, I have lost my mind. The song, Too Much Time on My Hands by Styx (who doesn't love Come Sail Away, The Best of Times and Babe?) is running on a constant loop in my head.
To prove the point of mind-loss, here are my top 10 ideas on what my Silky Terrier, Baby, does when she squirrels up under our bed at various times during the day. (Sometimes if my big toe brushes up too close to the dust ruffle, she will emit a low growl, making me jump on the bed so I don't come to be known as "Nine-Toed Nash.")
1. I told Adam the other night while we were watching TV in bed and heard Baby rustling under the bed that she was running an underground meth lab. Hey, Baby, keep me out of it, but make sure you share the profits, bitch.
2. Has an internal debate with herself on whether she really is a dog or a cat. I can hear her now: "That short lady and the tall guy call me kitty all the time and laugh. Is it true? I smell like a dog and I eat dog food, yet when a cat food commercial comes on, they ask me, 'Baby, you want me to buy you that'"?
3. Is hiding out from that thing that is always following her around. (her tail)
4. Has an encyclopedia collection she is devouring voraciously in hopes of going on Jeopardy!.
5. Protecting her health since I haven't "gone green" with my household cleaners. I was a sucker and bought the Clorox "green" bathroom cleaner. Nope, doesn't work as well as regular Clorox Clean-Up. It'll burn the hairs out of your nostrils but you can bet your bottom there are no germs on my countertops.
6. She could possibly have a Playstation under there and is living a life of crime and destitution while playing Grand Theft Auto 4.
7. Wondering how she can get out of the fence and get knocked up so she too can be classy and go on Maury to find out who her baby daddy be, saying she is "2,000 percent sure he's the daddy because she's never been with anyone else".
8. Practicing her "looks" so Tyra doesn't tell her she looks "dead in the eyes" when trying out for America's Next Top Model.
9. Plotting my death, a la Stewie, so she can take my place as Adam's wife.
10. Budgeting so she can figure out if she has enough dough to run for president as the "crunk candidate."
Monday, September 28, 2009
I decided to take matters into my own hands when someone says this to me, if only to educate them so they don't say it the absolute wrong person next time. Well, I got to use it last week.
I was showing a dad at football practice my Kindle, kindly explaining what it was and how much I loved it, yada yada yada. He's the dad of one of Addison's friends, so I was being nice. My friends always ask how Adam's doing, and he did too, and then said THOSE words, "How long is he gone for?"
I gave him a general timeframe (OPSEC, yo, I'm down with it) and he said the words...and I let loose. I wasn't rude, but here's a rundown of how it went (and this was after I restrained myself from launching myself at him, because I really wanted to wrap my hands around his neck and shake him like I was a British nanny):
Him: "Oh, that's not bad."
Me: "It is to me." At this point, he looked like the words "oh shit" shot through his brain.
Me: "He works all the time over there. His unit is rarely idle in that time period. They are constantly busy, always putting their lives on the line. He's not sitting over there counting bullets."
He smartly shut his mouth after that.
Here's what bothers me the most, though. No one would have the balls to say this to a child going through the same thing. If an adult ever said that to Addison, I would have no problem kicking their ass. Addison is a smart kid, but he doesn't understand why his father has to miss all his football games, school stuff, holidays, etc.
So why do people deem it okay to say to a wife, husband, brother, mother, etc?
I don't regret making him feel uncomfortable. Maybe he didn't deserve it, maybe he is now better educated because of my little verbal diarrhea tirade.
Here's a suggestion to anyone who may speak to anyone dealing with deployment - ask them how they are doing. Tell them you will keep their loved one in your thoughts and prayers (if you're a praying sort). Wish them a safe return for their loved one.
Thursday, September 24, 2009
Some people identify with their age. I've never done that - I still feel like a 17-year-old, though with a husband and 10-year-old son, a house, dog, bills, and more. I guess you'd say "responsibility" but I see it as life.
So what's a mom in her mid-30's supposed to look like? I don't know. Am I supposed to be buying mom jeans from Kmart and rocking an ass in the front and the back? (You know what I mean...when someone's gut is so big it looks like their ass goes all the way around.) I loathe exercise, but I realize the older I get, the more my former fantabulous metabolism is slowing down. Good thing I'm a comfort drinker, not eater.
What kind of music is a mom supposed to listen to? Barry Manilow? Neil Diamond? I'm a Linkin Park kind of girl. I love JT, Rihanna, Disturbed, Jimmy Buffett, and many more. My musical interests are diverse, without a doubt. It usually depends on what sort of mood I'm in. These days I'm loving Adele. It's mellow, but her voice is beautiful. That just sounded so mom.
I go through a lot of identity crises. Some days it's "what's a girl supposed to act like" and others it's "what's a Yankee living in the South supposed to act like." Right now I'm trying to figure out how to act my age. And you know what? There's no rule saying I have to wear mom jeans, or make Addison eat organic food. I'll continue to be me, good and bad, and keep being the Erin that is comfortable in her own skin. The one thing I've learned as I have accumulated the years is that I don't care what people think about me.
That's the most comfort I've felt about myself in years.
Wednesday, September 23, 2009
I've changed, and changed immensely. I feel a sudden onset of maturity. I'm not saying I'm not any fun anymore, and that I won't moon the nearest person at the first chance (After drinking, of course. Okay, maybe not).
What I mean is that for the first time in my life, I feel capable. That if I can do this, I can do anything. This is my seventh time going through a deployment, and I finally feel like it's going to be okay. I've never been a nervous-wreck sort of person throughout any of them. I take that back - the first one was a nightmare. Not knowing where in the world your husband is, having no communication with him and not knowing when he was coming back sucked. At least I know where he is, although not being able to promise Addison he will come home bothers me. We don't broach that subject though, we focus on the positive.
Yes, there is a positive. The positive is the intense pride we have at being a military family. It's like having the National Anthem playing in a loop, constantly in your head and in your heart. Sounds corny, but it's true!
So yes, I'll make it through this one too. And more in the next six years before Adam retires (who knows, he might even stay in longer after 20 years). He absolutely loves his job. I love that he has a job and love that he loves it. It's a big ol' lovefest in the Nash family!
Monday, September 21, 2009
I've been so focused as our Family Readiness Group leader on everyone else that I've forgotten to take care of me. I just don't seem to have the energy or wont to take care of myself or the house. The rest of my energy is taking care of Addison. I would never be a parent who lets their child run wild or not feed them. He's my number one priority in life, always.
I'm missing the old Erin, the one who was fun. The one who would go anywhere, anytime, even though I'm a homebody. I'm a total hermit now. Between the depression and the feeling I need to be here, I don't leave the house that often. Sure, I go grocery shopping and to Wal-Mart and such, but there's no joy in shopping right now for me. I had planned on getting a good jump on Christmas shopping because I really enjoy getting it all done early, but I've lost the joy in most everything.
I'm not one for medication. I've done and tried a lot of medications, and now I just feel that this is something I can control on my own. I suppose admitting it here, on the blog, is my first step in taking control of it and getting on with life and finding the enjoyment in it.
Friday, September 11, 2009
Last week my ear got really itchy inside. The next day it felt kind of full, and I could feel that it was swollen inside. I figured it would go away on it's own. I figured wrong.
Because, of course, I had to try to self-treat. I thought it may be some sort of sinus/throat infection. Then I figured it might be a big ol' zit, a cyst or something. Now I just have no clue, except it's putting a lot of pressure on everything around it, and it's uncomfortable. It's not painful, but of course I've been poking around in there, because I'd be soooo embarrassed if I go to be seen and have a big zit in there. For cripes sake, I'm 35 years old. I guess ears have no age though.
So now I'm going to stop being so stubborn. I'm going to wait until after duty hours (so I don't have to call my clinic, which will invariably steer me towards the ER, which I will NOT go to) and go to the walk-in medical clinic. Civilians rock. I'm so afraid they're going to be able to tell I've been sticking all kinds of Q-tips in there, poking around, probably touching my brain. Oh well, I'll bite the bullet.
I can't wait to tell Addison we'll be spending Friday night at Urgent One. What a glamorous life I lead!
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
First and foremost, I've learned I am a strong person. People have told me that through the years of being a military wife, but I always figured if I didn't love Adam, I wouldn't do it. It's a tough life, no doubt, but there's plenty more pros then cons, and I wouldn't trade it for the world.
I've learned I might not be quite the follower I always thought I was. I'm not a born leader, but have been inspired by Adam and others I admire in that regard.
A few months ago, because of the rank Adam had achieved, I was put in the position of being a leader. I was not too sure of myself as a leader, but I felt that since I was in that position to help others, there was no reason I shouldn't.
I could tell at our first meeting the other wives were hesitant of me. They had to feel me out, see what sort of person I was. Here's the thing...I'm me, swearing, blunt, say-what-I-think Erin. Sometimes I come off as rough and gruff. I'm fine with people not liking me also, because I certainly don't like everyone I meet.
Because of Adam's job title, I get a title. But I don't want that title. I don't want to be (insert rank here)'s wife. I'm Erin. Not to take away anything from Adam and how proud I am of him and how great he is at what he does, but because there shouldn't be rank when it's a wives meeting. I respect all of the men's ranks, but believe when it's a room full of women, there's no rank, unless, of course, they are in the military.
I've met plenty of wives throughout the years who would refer to themselves as "the colonel's wife" and stuff like that. What, you don't have your own identity?
I could go on and on about this, but I won't. Like I said, there's been a lot going on. I'm fine, Adam's fine, Addison's fine...no need to worry.
Friday, August 28, 2009
It's hard to live knowing this and not being able to share it. Like I said in my last post 26 years ago, it helps to share this stuff with people.
So, this is what has happened in the less than 3 weeks since he's been gone:
* Addison sliced his finger with scissors while cutting popsicle sticks. He has a popsicle-stick addiction, but we have enrolled him in a 12-step program, especially after the 17 birdhouses he made and put in various spots in the yard so the neighbors could see them.
I called the "clinic" we go to at the Airfield, and the lady told us to come in. Wonderful, I thought. Until his doctor said, "Oh, we don't do stitches here or even the Dermabond (skin glue)." Gee thanks lady-who-answered-the-phone. You're on my shit list.
So we went to the ER, and the P.A. looked at it and deemed it not bad enough for stitches, "on the verge" as he put it, and glued it up. I specifically told him Addison was playing tackle football. "Oh, he can do anything in 3 hours," I was told.
The next night at football practice the cut split right open-the glue virtually disappeared within 5 minutes. Asshole.
I'm getting to the point-he got stitches. Three of 'em. And my boy never cried, not once.
* I changed the turn signal bulb in my car. I figured out what was wrong with it, consulted my manual, and did it all myself. Not a huge deal, I know, but I like knowing I can do it. Sometimes I think I might even be more handy than some men.
* I've spent hours and hours taking care of small problems that have arisen in the Family Readiness Group. As the leader, I do a lot for the 40+ wives in our company. They have all been so sweet, it makes it all worth it if I help out just one person. I know, if you know me you're wondering if this is really Erin. I promise. I'm softening as I get older. I actually enjoy making a difference, lessening someone's worry or sadness is worth it.
This is getting way too long, and if I didn't know me I'm sure I would have stopped reading this awhile ago. If you're still reading, thanks. If not, fuck you. (jk-NOT)
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
I would love to let the entire world know what's been going on. It would be easier to let it all out here, trust me. I could vent, maybe get some kind words of encouragement, but I leave that for Facebook and cryptic messages that I hate posting, because I really, really hate when people do that. I'm pretty sure I've only done it once, and the people that know and love me know what's going on.
So, sorry poor little blog. But things are getting more stable, and maybe I'll finally figure out how to write normally again.
Tuesday, August 4, 2009
That said, I'm going to try to impart my wisdom to those less-experienced wives. I forget how young some of the wives are until I look at their Facebook profile and see that they graduated from high school LAST YEAR. Um, yeah, I'm almost twice as old as they are.
I'm glad there was no Facebook and MySpace back when I was a young wife, because I have no doubt I would have aired all my mumblings and grumblings about the Army and how it took my husband away from me most of the time. I'm glad to report I'm mature now (it sure took me long enough) and realize that this is Adam's job. I have absolutely no control over his work hours, his deployments or pretty much every aspect of his job. This has been hard for someone with control issues, but once I realized this, life has been that much easier.
Here's my advice to the young wives, the ones who don't have a lot of experience with it all like myself - find a hobby, get a job, go to school, etc. Keep yourself busy. If you sit around pining for your husband, I can guarantee you're going to be miserable.
It's hard, I know. Very hard. I know this to be true. I honestly hope that it gets easier for you as the years go by.
Friday, July 31, 2009
I'm an Army wife. My husband is in the Army, not me. Which means I don't have rank-he does. I refuse to be one of the wives who thinks her shit doesn't stink just because of her husband's rank. I hope I have remained grounded the last 13 years.
Anyway, what I really want to say is this...
I really, really wish I could tell you things. Things about Adam and his work and such. I know you are curious because you are just as proud of him as I am, but honestly, I can't say stuff I wish I could. For the most part, this is because I really don't know.
It's hard for not to share this stuff, such as deployment and redeployment dates. That stuff is usually so up in the air I would just be wasting my breath if I told you anyway. It's hard to keep it all in, when I know sharing with family and friends would make me feel better. It's always nice to commiserate. In this case, I can't. That sucks.
I do not know anything about what Adam has done overseas. This is for my own sanity. Knowing he is not done deploying for several years makes me stick my head in the sand. If I knew what he actually did, I would be a nervous wreck for the entire deployment. I always say I prefer to see him sitting on a bunk somewhere, staring longingly at my picture. That's how I see him overseas, and that's how I get through it mentally.
Not to say I'm not curious. I am a curious person by nature. I've told Adam the day he retires, we're going to get a couple cases of beer, and he's going to tell me everything he ever did overseas, every detail, until he's done. Whether this takes one hour or one week I don't care. I know he's got great stories and I look forward to hearing them someday.
Know that I'm not trying to be cagey when I seem to skirt around your questions. It's just that if by the small slip of my tongue caused harm to anyone or anything, I could never forgive myself. My top priority (besides the Boy, of course) is making sure Adam and his entire unit are safe. I know that's understandable.
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
So of course moving to Savannah was like a dream come true. Paula lives here.
Well, today was one of the best days ever. I finally ate at The Lady and Sons, Paula's restaurant in Savannah.
As a "local" I was able to call in for priority seating, which is what you have to do if you have a party of less than 10, since you can't get a reservation. Regular people have to go wait in line and put their name in for priority seating, but not me, I can call that in, bitches.
All I have to say about the food is WOW. It wasn't just a party in my mouth, it was an orgy. Mind you, this is coming from the girl who only eats to keep my blood sugar above a non-bitch level. Eating is a nuisance to me. But oh lordy, this was some gooood food.
We all left with fuller than full bellies. We all came home and had to take a nap. And now, almost 7 hours later, I'm still not hungry.
Thank you, Paula, for a wonderful meal. I'll be sure to be back as soon as possible!
Monday, July 20, 2009
I want to go back.
While we were relaxing in our hotel room at the awesome Caribbean Beach Resort (it would have been more awesome without me trying to squeeze by the big-ass ugly ducks and asking them kindly to please don't bite me), I ruminated out loud, "Could you possibly live at Disney World? You know, like how some people live in hotels? If you're rich, can you just live at a Disney hotel for like a year?"
No one had a good answer for this. So for now I'm going to focus on winning the lottery so I can live at WDW. A girl can dream, right?
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
I have a HD receiver that was recalled last fall. Funny, you never let me know about it, and I never would have known but I Googled my model number and bingo! Recall. Most of the other people got a phone call or a letter. Not me. Gee thanks. Strike one.
Strike two-the reason I say this is because my receiver, which I've had for two years, is on it's last legs. I have to reset it a few times a day, interrupting my precious television watching. The picture freezes, or when I change the channel, no picture and no sound show up. I'm just glad I found out about the recall, otherwise I'm sure you'd try to charge me for a new one, just like you tried to charge me on the FIRST bill for three free months of premium channels.
And now, the kicker. I've been trying to call since yesterday. Apparently they have those cube-sized Macs like Jerry Seinfeld, because they've been updating since yesterday. They cannot access customers' accounts. Whatch you talkin' 'bout Willis? Seriously? How can a company as big as DirecTV have such crappy customer service?
I waited to call them, because every experience I've ever had sucks more than my vacuum. They are truly stupid. Once in awhile, the gods smile down on me and I get a coherent person, with a personality, who is more than willing to help me. For the most part, I get a representative who apparently is working there to pay off the lobotomy they just got the previous day.
If I wasn't such a rabid, tattoo-sporting member of Red Sox Nation, this craptastic satellite service would be gone faster than you can say boo. But it's my only way to watch the Sox, every day and as often as possible (which is quite a lot).
I'll drive on. And I will try my hardest not to be the rudest, meanest bitch if I so happen to get Lobotomy Larry the next time I call. Honestly.
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
How many of us would love to feel like that 17 year old again, because we now know what it's like to be a real grown up?
I've been married to an amazing man for almost 13 years. I've totally jipped him out of a lot of me. Yet he's stuck around.
I've got issues, you've got issues, we've all got issues. I have abandonment issues. But when I was 17, I gave myself, all of myself, to someone else, and I ended up crushed and broken at the age of 19, not the same person I was before.
Since then, it's been hard for me to give me, all of me, to anyone else.
I had much time to think with all the driving I did in the past few weeks. What the hell am I doing? I'm screwing up the most perfect relationship with the most perfect man because I couldn't get past something that happened so long ago.
But that's changed. I'm proud to announce the new me, the improved me, the one that will give all of her, heart and soul and body, to her husband. I will no longer hide, afraid of anything.
Hear me roar.
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
Here's the deal-we lived on Fort Benning for almost 13 years, surrounded by other military folks. When we moved to Savannah in January, it was weird living among civilians. Nice, but weird.
I realize now that I was sheltered at Fort Benning. I wasn't aware of what happens in the real world. People get divorced, do drugs, work hard and play hard. Not so different from the military community, but where I had lived there wasn't a lot of that.
This is where I need to vent. Most of our friends are civilians. Fine, I don't base my friends on what their job is. Most of them don't know a lick about military life. Okay, so it's my job to educate them.
I explained about Adam's deployments, the length and frequency of them. I've heard a few times, "Oh, that's not too bad. At least it's not 15 months."
I understand that 15 months must suck. But that's not how Adam's unit works. We're lucky enough that it's just a few months at a time, but it's also once a year that these deployments happen.
I want to scream. I want to ask them, "How about you put yourself in my shoes, when you wake up worrying and go to bed worrying for every day of that deployment about your husband? Why don't you parent your child alone, with no family around to help. Then come back and tell me, oh, that's not bad."
I'm not feeling sorry for myself. It's just that if you haven't been through it, you don't know, and telling me that it's not that bad insults me. Have you ever had to go buy a new washing machine on Christmas Eve by yourself, and get your friend to help you bring it in the house and set it up yourself? Then shut it. Have you had to put on a brave face for your 5-year-old son on Christmas morning, when he's opening his presents and your husband is listening through the phone, and it's killing you he's not there?
I know parents who are divorced go through a lot of same things. I have friends who are divorced. But their husband/wife is around to take care of the kids when they can't, or they have family who can relieve them of their parental duties now and then. I don't have that luxury.
My mom has taught me to never minimize someone else's problems or their pain. What might seem silly to you might be huge to me. I might think you're a loon because you lost your favorite pair of undies, but if they mean something to you, then shame on me for thinking that way.
The best advice I can give is to listen, just listen to a military spouse when they talk. You might hear through our bravado our pain, our pride, and our fear. Don't attempt to minimize our feelings. They are very real.
Monday, June 29, 2009
This is kind of confusing...Addison played recreation baseball for the town of Pooler. That season ended a few weeks ago. He was one of 12 boys in his age group chosen to be an All-Star for the town. That entailed practices several times a week. He also plays for a traveling tournament team. I know. Basically, it ends up being a shit ton of baseball.
Three weeks ago we had a tournament for the All-Stars in Lyons, Ga. Two days of traveling back and forth. Two weeks ago we were down in Brunswick, Ga., back and forth for two days. Last week we were in Blackshear, Ga., for three days, back and forth.
For a girl who bought her '04 Saturn brand new five years ago and had less than 15,000 miles on it, this was a lot of traveling. I put more than 1,300 miles on my car in those weeks. And, Adam was gone.
But I'm not going to complain. I'm thrilled Addison is good at baseball. I enjoyed our time together through all those hours. Sometimes his friends came with us, and I know he enjoyed that too.
I really could have done without the 100+ degree weather we endured for hours on end. But hey, it's Georgia, right?
Monday, June 15, 2009
Although there aren't any kids in the neighborhood that Addison will deem cool enough to play with, he is still involved in baseball, so we have practice almost every weeknight and tournaments on the weekend so he's able to see his friends. We hang out with the other cool baseball parents so that's nice too.
The difference between this summer vacation and others is vast. Fort Benning/Columbus is a big vacuous nowhere. There's not much to do there. But the Savannah area? There's tons of stuff for us to do, and I look forward to spending the summer with the boy, learning more and more about this area I love so much and never want to leave.
Bring on the summer fun!
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
Yes I'm the same girl that lived in New England for 22 years. I enjoyed watching the snow fall, but didn't last long playing in it. I hated being cold and wet.
It's true the first year I lived in Georgia I actually started crying because it was still hovering near the 90-degree mark in late September. My body wasn't used to it. It was supposed to be cool and crisp and the leaves were supposed to change to beautiful colors, not dry up and fall to the ground.
Now, 13 years later, I enjoy the hot, sticky weather. I suppose my blood has thinned, and my psyche has gotten used to it. Disney World in July? We didn't think twice about planning our vacation there. When we invited my brother-in-law to be our "manny" he said something about the heat there in Florida. He's a northerner.
My ultimate dream is to be a beach bum in Key West, with a boat drink in one hand, my Kindle in the other, singing along to Jimmy Buffett tunes. A girl can dream, can't she?
Monday, June 8, 2009
I didn't feel right. Kind of dizzy, throat kind of sore.
Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday were much of the same. I was mobile and getting stuff done, but I didn't feel quite right.
Then Thursday came and I was down for the count. I never sleep during the day even though I could since Addison's at school, but I slept. I knew I had a fever. You just know these things, maybe because I felt like I was going to spontaneously combust at any moment.
Friday was the same. I could barely get off the couch to go to the bathroom. I know I'm sick when I don't have a drop of alcohol on a Friday night.
Saturday I didn't feel great, but I was able to shower, which was badly needed. Greasy hair and me are not very compatible.
I finally feel about 90% normal. There's a ton of this sickness going around, so if you should befall the curse of the sickness, seriously, take it easy. And good luck.
Wednesday, June 3, 2009
What is really, really bothering me lately is misspelled words. I just saw "awful" spelled "aweful" and "breath" spelled "breathe."
I understand not everyone is a good speller, but seriously, "aweful"? I like to make fun of Adam because in every letter he's ever written me from overseas, he spells "truly" as "truely." I can see where this would happen, and it's usually included in a very nice sentiment, so I let it slide.
With the advent of Facebook and Twitter, my grammar bitch comes out. I don't say anything, but if I see "your" and "you're" wrong one more time, I really will scream.
Did I mention I worked at a newspaper for 10 years as a copy editor? That would explain it. If I can just keep my red pen off the computer screen, I'll be good.
Monday, June 1, 2009
It sounds so jaded, but age really is a number, at least to me. I celebrate a birthday every year (duh) but have failed to feel older. I feel much wiser and calmer, but not older. I don't honestly know how "old" feels.
I see this as a good thing. If I start wearing mom jeans and getting my hair set every week, then I'll start worrying.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
I veered sharply away from exercising. I didn't go to the track once. It rained, literally, every day. No doubt I could have used the treadmill, but I was in such a funk, I couldn't even muster the energy to bend down to plug it in. Yup, that bad.
This morning I didn't want to exercise. I made myself do it, though, because I seemingly have the body of Wonder Woman and notice results in just a day or two. Good genes, people, damn good genes.
What prompted me to get off my ass was reading US Magazine last night, and their whole 30-page spread of how celebrities keep in shape. Yeah, two hours a day, five days a week. I do indeed have that kind of time, but seriously, who the eff wants to work out for two hours a day? Oh, and don't forget the personal trainer, meals sent to their house, etc. They're telling me to eat healthy but in their world money is no issue and by golly, it sure would be nice to have prepared meals delivered to my door. My only hope of that is when I'm old and getting Meals on Wheels.
So, celebrities, you can all go suck it. You gave me the motivation to be able to do this all on my own. I will walk and run and Slip-n-Slide with my son and husband because I can. Take your thousands of bucks spent on looking fake and I'll be real, thank you very much.
Wednesday, May 20, 2009
Sunday it started raining. It's rained here and there over the last few days, but what is really bringing me down is the temperature. I've never seen a high of 59 in late May in Georgia. I feel like I'm back on good ol' Cape Cod. I love hot, humid weather and this crap has got to go.
Adam, of course, is working. Since he's become first sergeant it's been hard not seeing him much. I've accepted it and am soooo very proud of him for his accomplishments, and yes, I knew what sort of time this job would entail. I miss him when he's not here.
I'm excited for tomorrow, though. Adam has a four-day weekend (FINGERS CROSSED, PEOPLE) but even I have learned that a day off could turn out to be a day worked.
I don't want to be Debbie Downer. Nobody likes Debbie Downer. I went out and did a little retail therapy. I'm trying to keep my head up, and look forward to the weekend. No more feeling sorry for myself.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
The first couple of weeks in Savannah were lonely. I missed my Benning friends and didn't meet anyone here. All my neighbors are old or recluses. I felt like a loser when I signed Addison up for school and had no emergency contact numbers, because I didn't know a soul.
We've finally, finally found our "group." It's funny how when you're grown, it's still sort of like high school. You might meet other people and like them just fine, but that first time of hanging out with new people and you just sort of know that these are the people you are most alike with is great. That totally didn't make much sense and is such a run-on sentence but I really don't care.
So we've found our clique, our posse, etc. Addison's baseball coaches are great, down-to-earth guys. Funny, too. There's two other women, one who is the coach's wife, and a fellow player's mom. There's a lot of different dynamics going on within the group that are just too complex to go into if I do say so.
Needless to say, I'm happy. We fit in somewhere. I knew it would happen eventually. I was told, "You're part of the family now, girl, so don't be surprised if you have six boys sleeping over sometime soon." Okay, no problem. Addison loves it, hanging out with so many other boys his age, and that makes me happy. I sometimes feel so bad he's an only child, but I heard him tell another boy the other day that he actually liked it (He's a Material Boy).
It's nice to be part of a friend-family.
Thursday, May 14, 2009
I'm addicted to Facebook and I'm not ashamed to say it. Being a "homemaker" (I say this because I don't do a lot of homemaking, it's not a dig against any homemakers because I am one too, I just don't feel like a real one because my only child is in school all day...), Facebook is my lifeline to the outside world during the 8 hours I'm alone on the weekdays. I know, I know, get a hobby, Erin.
What I will say is this...Facebook has been great for me. I've found friends I haven't seen since I was 10, yet we still remember each other. I found friends from junior high, names I haven't seen in 20 years, yet we still remember each other. And, of course, friends from high school.
It's strange to see how some people have aged. A lot of the guys have put on weight. Some turned from geek to chic. Some girls look exactly the same, others I wouldn't recognize if they were standing in front of my face.
I've been lucky to reconnect with the people I grew up with, who shaped me, formed me and got into trouble with me.
I'm always looking for new friends on Facebook too. I've met other Army wives, etc. Look me up-Erin Moroz Nash-and I look forward to getting to know all about you.
Wednesday, May 13, 2009
My attitude changed several years ago, when my friend and neighbor, who is an exercise buff, talked me into going for a "walk" with her. What she neglected to tell me is that she walks about 20 miles per hour, up hills, in 95 degree, 100 percent humidity weather, and oh, it's only about three miles.
Since the husbands were deployed, we decided to have some drinks on the porch afterwards. Because that's what we did-drink-when they were deployed.
Soon after, we started "walking" every night. I came to enjoy this time, and my Pavlovian reaction to the walks - beer. When it came time for the guys to come home, I amazed myself. I had the body I had wanted for years. I didn't have to push my thighs down into my shorts. The shorts slid all the way up to my ass without getting stuck. Hallelujah! I had muscles on the side of my stomach. Whoa.
I've exercised here and there over the years since. I remember how great I felt with that body.
Yesterday, I stopped making excuses. I woke up for the first time in my life, motivated to work out. Not sure where that came from, but I embraced it. I put on my dusty workout clothes, sent Addison to school, and walked the short way to the track at the middle school.
I didn't walk miles and it was cloudy and cool, but I enjoyed it nonetheless. I even jogged a little.
I went back today and did the same thing. I even ran more, even though no one was chasing me. This is the only way I can run-I imagine I just stole something and someone's chasing me down. Yes, I am weird.
I plan on continuing the exercise. Once Addison's out of school, we'll get up and hit the track.
And if I start to get lazy, please feel free to give me a swift kick in the ass.
Tuesday, May 12, 2009
Adam was gone to Fort Bragg Monday through Wednesday night. No biggie. We spent an hour or two with him Wednesday night. Thursday morning he left for work as usual. Then he called Thursday afternoon, letting me know he'd be home soon.
Not half an hour later I got a text which basically said, "Might be a long night." Okay, fine, but I felt bad he would miss Addison's baseball game. (The Boy got a homerun and triple-woot)
Eventually, it came down to this...an entire battalion of men was locked down because of missing equipment. There was no endpoint in sight. Okay, fine, I'll take Addison to practice and do my thing, go to the pool with my friends, etc.
We had plans to leave Friday morning to go back to Fort Benning to visit and watch the Best Ranger Competition. I held out hope he'd be released so we'd be able to go, but unfortunately it never happened.
My point is this...a shit ton of wives were up in arms. Some actually went and protested. Huh? It hadn't even been 24 hours since the lockdown. They embarrassed themselves and their husbands, even I was embarrassed for them.
I just don't understand many of these fellow wives who whine and complain about never seeing their husbands. Um, this is their job. It's a special operations job, and my best advice is this - get a life, because you can't live through your husband. You can't ever be guaranteed your husband will be around for your birthday, for Christmas, or any other special day or holiday. It's the nature of the beast.
As for me, maybe it's just my experience as being a wife in this unit. Thirteen years has been a long time, but you'll never see me splashing my discontent and bitterness on Facebook. Why bitch about stuff you have absolutely no control over?
I don't get it. Maybe I never will. Or maybe they're the ones who will never get it.