Because I feel the need ...

Let me preface by saying that I am in no way complaining in this post. I used to be a huge whiner, until the advent of Facebook. When I saw people who constantly bitched about how awful everything was, I took a good look at myself and decided I did not want to be that thoroughly annoying asshole everyone ended up either unfriending or hiding from their feed.

I do feel the need, though, to tell what normal, everyday life is like for both myself and my family. I used to run my mouth a lot, to try to right the wrongs of the world. I've also learned that sometimes it's better to just keep my mouth shut, although it's been hard. I can't make whiners into Sally Sunshines. If they are going to complain, they're going to complain.

These are facts: Adam, my husband, is a first sergeant in a special operations unit in the Army. He started out as private way back in 1995. I was dating him then. I've been along for the ride the entire 15 years he's been in the Army, and in the same unit for 14 of those years, after basic training and airborne school. If I ever open my mouth to offer advice to other wives, it's because most likely I've been there, done that, and even got the T-shirt. It's not because I think I know better than them. Chances are, I've probably been through a similar situation.

Another fact: I have a son who is 11 years old. We are riding that slippery slope of the pre-teen years, and hormones are starting to come into play.

Explaining what life is like for us only applies to us. Our life is not what the normal Army life is like. Sure, there are similarities, but in reality, they are two different worlds.

Fast fact: The bulk of my family and Adam's family live in Massachusetts. It's more than a 20-hour drive from here in Georgia. I am lucky enough to have my only sister a mere 6 hours from our house. So, if you ask me to try to plan to do something months in advance, I cannot guarantee I can make it. This life of ours is not dependable. I can't just ask Adam to please be home at a certain time because I won't be there for Addison. I would gander that 99.99% of the responsibility for Addison falls on me. I'm fine with that. That is why I have chosen not to work in the past few years.

The 10 years I did work was part-time. Most of it was done from home. When I did have to go into the office, Addison was with me. It was perfect. I wanted Addison to know the stability of having one parent he knew was always there. That is not a dig at Adam. It is the nature of his job, of the military.

Super fun fact: The higher your rank in the military, the more responsibility you garner, therefore, your hours will become longer. It's hard for me to bite my tongue when I see or hear wives complain at the time their husbands get home. It's the military. There are no set work hours. So many times I want to point out that most days, my husband is getting home hours later than their husbands. But that seems immature to me now. I don't need validation for being patient. I want to see my husband more than an hour a day, but I also understand that he has a LOT of work, and that it never gets done before he leaves for the night. He is a stand-up, good, hardworking family man. We all have a certain level of co-dependency borne out of living this life the past 15 years. But complaining isn't going to make him come home faster. And I would never, EVER nag him. I think he appreciates this.

I know he has thanked me for letting him do the job he loves. I am glad he has a job, and one that he loves. Not too many people can say that nowadays. I support him wholeheartedly in every aspect of his work.

This hasn't always been an easy life, but it's been good to us. I would love to be able to have Addison grow up near his grandparents, and to have his cousins in the same town. So many times I longed to instantly be at my mother-in-law's house, letting her take care of me and cook me supper, as selfish as that sounds. Sometimes I become very weary of being responsible. I want to be taken care of, just for a day. I don't want to worry about what is for supper, making sure the laundry is done, the house clean, homework done, or trying to figure out what time Adam will actually be home.

One more thing about our life: We can't just decide when we would like to go on vacation. The unit plans the two times a year Adam gets his vacation time (it's called "leave" for all of you civilians). Four weeks a year is great when I see how many years civilians have to put into a typical job to get that many vacation days. We were incredibly lucky that last summer and this summer we were able to actually go on vacation to Florida, because Addison was out of school.

I do feel like I left out some basics: Like I said before, there are no set working hours for Adam. He leaves the house every morning before 5 a.m. He is usually home sometime after 6 p.m. Every day is different. We are lucky enough that he gets a smattering of three- and four-day weekends here and there. There are also the times he cannot be more than two hours outside of the area. He is in charge of a company of Soldiers. Some of these Soldiers get into trouble. I have been woken up countless times because these guys were arrested for DUI, fighting, you name it. Again, it's the nature of his job.

There's a lot of things people don't know about the military. I have no problem letting people know what military life is like, and that's just as a wife. I'm sure if Adam sat down and wrote out what a typical day is like for him, a lot of people wouldn't even believe him.

I wrote a lot of this in my head today. Typing it out, it's totally different. It sounded great in my head. I think I got my point across. I hope so.

Because this is who I am ...

I made an important life discovery a few days ago. I had gotten a new friend on Facebook who I don't know in real life but I do know through the Internet. I was thoroughly impressed with her Facebook profile - she's a brainiac. I started feeling bad about myself. Sure, I can rock the socks off anyone while playing Jeopardy! with them, but in the academic sense, I lag seriously behind. I'm okay with this, and this is what I figured out.

That will never be me. I'm not an academic. But, instead of saying, "Oh, I'm not academically smart" I started thinking of everything that I AM. I AM an avid book reader. I AM a really loyal friend. I AM a good wife. I AM a good mother. I AM funny. Instead of being negative and going through everything I'm not (in my own head, especially) I've decided to focus on what I AM. It's a pretty comforting feeling, and affirming. Try it for yourself.

Because I'm a simple girl ...

Today is the day I've been waiting for for a long time. A crisp Fall evening with my husband and son, with a fire going in the fireplace, some tasty adult beverages, watching a movie together, and BAM ... perfection. I'm way past that point of getting together with others to hang out in a garage and get shitty-ass drunk. Once in awhile, sure, but I haven't seen Adam in over a 100 days - he's been home a week - I'm not ready to share him with the outside world yet. He's gone to work all week (not regular hours, thankfully), and now we get yet another two full days together as a family.

Some deployments rip families and marriages apart. Deployments strengthen ours. We are old enough and mature enough to see what can happen to others, and it makes us appreciate what we have that much more. We lament the fates of others while being more appreciative that we are stronger than ever. We see what war does - wives who cheat, wives who have sex with other men while their husband watches on a webcam overseas (a pure rumor, but Jesus H. Christ, REALLY?), husbands who cheat, all kinds of sick, depraved stuff. I wouldn't believe half of it if I didn't know it wasn't true. I wonder where the truly normal people are. I like to believe we're normal. We don't do that stuff. We don't swing. We are in a very committed, loving marriage. We enjoy our time as a family. We like to do normal stuff - bowling, sightseeing, golf, fishing, what have you.

It seems like there's a whole different world out there, one I don't want to be a part of. I want to live as normal a life as possible. Sure, this isn't always possible. Things happen; shit happens. I refuse to let life break me. I haven't made it this far to let anything break me now. Life's just beginning.

Because I've got my groove back ...

Go ahead and call me Stella, because my groove is back, in the form of my husband. Every deployment seems endless, regardless of how long it is. It's like time stops moving the moment we say goodbye. But enough of that mushy stuff, because those are feelings I choose not to share with the public. I will keep those for myself and my family.

What I'm really, really wishing for is actual weather that doesn't feel like summer. Summer in Savannah was HOT. As in, I'll leave the house when it's dark, and even then it's still HOT. In my 15 years living in Georgia, I do not remember such a hot summer. The fall is proving to be a warm one also. We had maybe a few days when I could wear pants. Of course, the real Southerners wear pants yearround. I still have enough Yankee in my blood that if it's over 70 degrees I'm in shorts and the Southerners looks at me like I'm crazy because they're in pants, long sleeves, and actual jackets. Crazy asses.

We have near record-breaking temperatures today and tomorrow. I'm biding time until Friday, when the temperature will be about 20 degrees colder. YES! Break out the long johns! Okay, maybe not, but when it's so warm and then gets cool, it feels that much colder. I can't wait.

Because my eyes were opened...

Yesterday Addison came home from school and asked if we could go to his middle school's football game at 4:30 p.m. "Sure," I told him, because I knew he wanted to go, and I can see the field from my front door, so the fact that it's right there made that decision easy.

His friend was dropped off at our house, we put the leash on the dog, and two minutes later we were at the game. Addison had misplaced his phone, so I told him I'd stay in the same spot so he could find me easily.

Within 30 seconds, I realized I was in 'tween hell. I was instantly transported back to middle school (I went to junior high, if they even still have those. I don't remember sixth grade at all.) In a rush came back all my insecurities. I saw the pretty girls, the ones who were already wearing make-up and getting their hair cut at expensive salons. I saw the rocker chicks, wearing their high-top sneakers and skinny jeans. I saw the nerds, the group of Hispanics kicking around a soccer ball, and the misfits.

I turned and looked around. I saw Addison and his friend talking with other kids, and talking with girls. That's when it hit me, HARD. My son, all 11 years of him, was no longer a little boy. He may not technically be a teenager, but he's in that world already. My heart about broke right there. His simple life of Spongebob reruns is over. His life is now about girls, Facebook, texting, sports, school, and more.

I want to protect him. I want to let him know his heart will be broken; he will have friends who turn out to not be true friends; and many more life lessons we have all learned at some point. But I can't. I can't shelter him forever, and this is the hard part of being a mother.

I've never told anyone, but when I was about six months pregnant, I woke up in the middle of the night one time and couldn't go back to sleep. Something made me go into his nursery and sit in the recliner. Looking down at my stomach and knowing my son was in there unlocked some sort of deep emotion in me. I began crying, and started to talk to God.

"God, please, please, let him be okay. That's all I ask. I promise I will be the best mother possible to him, if you just help me out on this part." I went on like this for awhile, and every so often, I thank God for listening to me that night. I try hard to make good on my promise.

Raising Addison is one of the most rewarding things I've ever done as a human being. I'm proud to say I'm his mother.

Because I need to vent a bit ...

I'm not going to rant long, but this blog is one of my ways to get frustration out. I can say what I think and don't care who reads it.

I really wish people would stop complaining so damn much. If life's that tough, then you must really suck at it. Believe me, I understand life is hard, and it throws challenges daily, even hourly, to some people. My life is not hard, because I look around and see how much worse it could be. I could have been the pregnant wife with two young children watching her husband's body come out of an airplane in a flag-draped coffin today. That could have been me, but it wasn't. For that reason alone, I will pray very hard for her tonight, and once again count my blessings.

I do not take my blessings lightly. I believe there is something good in everything, every situation, no matter how bleak it may seem. Seeing as I have been a pessimist as long as I can remember, this is something entirely new and different for me. Maybe it's because I've seen what life does to people. People fight over silly things and lose family, people die and never have a chance to say goodbye, people lose good friends because they are selfish and immature, people lose their houses because they lose their jobs, etc. I could go on forever.

If people knew what went on in other's lives, if they for one second thought of someone other than themselves, I believe this world would be that much more caring. I would love to see people appreciate what they have, instead of harping on what they don't. I have everything I've ever wanted out of life. I wish the same for everyone else.

Because it is fitting ...

Tomorrow morning Addison and I will drive out to the airfield and get a 15-minute video teleconference with Adam. We had one last deployment, and I left that VTC feeling elated. I thought maybe I would be sad and it would make me miss him more, but it proved to be the opposite. I'm thankful for that.

I can't wait to see his face, and hear his voice attached to said face. It seems strange when I think that I haven't seen his face and heard his voice at the same time for 2 months. This sounds weird, I know.

What is fitting is that tomorrow is Sept. 11. I feel incredibly selfish writing this post. What happened to our country 9 years ago tomorrow still takes my breath away. It makes my heart ache. I can't imagine the pain of those who died and those who have lived on without their loved ones. But it was also that day that I realized that Adam would finally be putting his years of training to use - he would be going to war.

I knew our country needed to strike back. I knew Adam was a "go-to-war" Soldier, called upon first when needed. I just never thought it would actually happen. So if I don't feel bad when I see wives complaining that they haven't gotten an email in 24 hours from their husband who is AT WAR, I have my reasons.

Adam left a month after 9/11, after several aborted "Okay, I'm really leaving now." I don't know how many good-byes we had, and then he would come home, for an entire week. It was emotional, to say the least. Finally, they left, and we did not hear anything. We had no communication. The first I saw of what could have possibly been him was footage on CNN of his unit parachuting onto an airfield in Afghanistan on Oct. 19. I know I've talked about this before, so I'm not going to rehash all the feelings, emotions, etc. Suffice it to say, it was one of the hardest times in my life. Thank God Addison was 2 at the time and had no idea what was going on.

I plan on making sure I thank Adam for his service to our country tomorrow, and to ask him to pass on that sentiment from not only me, but all of us over here who so appreciate what they do over there. They do their job, and don't expect anything in return. The least we can do is thank them.