Sometimes I come up with brilliant ideas, or at least what I think are brilliant ideas. I think I may have a winner with this one though.
Adam will hit his 17-year-mark in the Army this August. We'd both like him to retire at 20 years. Then what?
My idea - together, we will provide marriage retreats and classes. Not just ordinary classes, mind you, but classes I think will improve every marriage. Are we qualified? Who cares? I think so. When I see celebrities who have a 6-month-old baby writing parenting books, I snicker. Our marriage has gotten better and better with each passing year (almost 37 16 of them), so you be the judge.
A sampling of classes and workshops I've come up with so far:
- She'll Put Out More If You Actually Buy the Tampons She Added to the Grocery List;
- Having Another Baby Will Not Save Your Marriage - DUH;
- Cleaning Involves More Than Lining Up Shoes Against the Wall;
- Pretend You Enjoy the Lifetime Movie Network;
- She Will Always Need More Shoes, So Just Shut It;
- Let Him Go Golfing on the Weekend - More Time For Lifetime Movies;
- Men, They Are Your Children - You Are NOT Babysitting Them;
- Dr. Phil and Oprah Have Nothing On Us - Truth;
- Enjoy Your Time Together. You Never Know When You Won't Have It;
- If You Tell Her She's Fat, Say Hello to the Hand;
Since I know you will all want to attend these amazing classes, let me know what else you'd like to see. The possibilities are endless!
While watching the Today Show yesterday, my ears perked up when they were talking about how couples who live together before marriage are more likely to get divorced. Really? Well, that's just one more statistic that can kiss my ass. I'm sick of statistics.
I began hating statistics while watching sports. Random, I know, but, being a diehard Patriots and Red Sox fan, I've seen my teams go to the World Series and Super Bowl numerous times in the past few years. When I see things like, "Statistically speaking, the Patriots have never won a Super Bowl while trailing at half time," I yell like a mad woman at my TV. So? Who's to say this isn't the one time when they will win? Take your stats and shove them you-know-where.
Adam and I did live together before we got married. We're also both children of divorce. We are a military family, and he is in a special operations unit. I'm pretty sure that, according to all those statistics floating around out there, we should not still be married. You know what? We are, and every year brings us closer together, makes our marriage stronger, and makes us happier as a couple.
No marriage is perfect. If you say yours is, you're a big fat liar, and I already don't like you. Unless you like the Red Sox, then I'll let it slide. We've had our ups and downs like any other couple. The difference is, we don't let the downs define our marriage. We've learned that the time we do get to spend together is, for lack of a better word, precious. (I don't like that word but I'm using it.) Why would we spend that time fighting, or doing our own thing, when we could be enjoying each other's company?
I understand that marriages end every day, for a myriad of reasons. I'm not questioning someone's reason for getting divorced. What I'm saying is that if you truly love your spouse, and can make it work, it's worth a shot. There are tons of circumstances when a marriage should end, but I'm not going into that - there are too many variables, and frankly, no one's business but their own.
Statistically speaking, I should be the modern-day Elizabeth Taylor of marriage. I refuse to give into those stats, because I'm my own person, and I'm also too stubborn to believe in any of that. Even Kim Kardashian will someday find her prince and be married forever. (You can read sarcasm, right?)
I believe in marriage, in my marriage, and no statistic otherwise will tell me so.
Nobody wants to see their loved one deploy. You worry, you fret, but ultimately, you keep living. There have been deployments when I was miserable the entire time - that's my fault. Throughout the past 10 1/2 years of deployments, I've had the opportunity during that time for a lot of self reflection. You can always find a positive in a negative. Maybe not in math, but I wouldn't know because I suck royally at math.
This deployment I have decided it's time to stop abusing my body. I'm not 21, 29, 35 ... I'll be 38 next month. It's time to start revering my body, not treating it like a landfill. (I don't smell - that's the difference.) It's time to switch from 12 Bud Lights to two Sam Adams. I have responsibilities I can no longer try to sweep under the rug. I'd like to be in shape. That's not going to happen, no matter how hard I rock the beer belly, until I get off my ass and do something about it. I will say this, though - don't even think about touching my donuts. I don't believe in chucking absolutely everything I enjoy that may not be good for me, otherwise I'll be a miserable bitch who will eventually cave, drive to Dunkin' Donuts, and slam down a dozen chocolate frosted lovers.
Because I'm not thinking about what's for supper next week like I do when Adam's home (who doesn't love hot dogs and mac and cheese three times a week?), I have the time to think about other things. I can think about what I'd like to go back to school and get a degree in; I can roll around ideas in my head for what I'd eventually like to write a book about. What I'm saying is, I have more room for thoughts and ideas, not trying to jog my memory for what day our next mandatory social is planned.
Sometimes those thoughts aren't so much fun. While folding laundry today, I remembered a light bulb is out in the ceiling fan in the living room with the VERY tall ceiling. I'm 5'2" - where's the 6'3" dude when I need him? Other than that, I try to keep my thoughts positive. Negativity during this time will drag you down, beat your ass, and make it a miserable experience. It's a perfect time to think about your dreams, plan for your future, research where you want to go on your next vacation.
I'm not Sally Sunshine. I am slowly growing from a pessimist into a willing optimist. It's pretty sunny on this side.
*This is my own personal experience. Everyone experiences different emotions, feelings, etc.
I've been saying goodbye to my husband since 2001, and sending him overseas. The next time I'll have to start using my toes to keep count.
It never gets easier saying goodbye. I know the day is coming, yet I try to appear strong. I know I'll be okay, but that dread knowing the day he leaves is coming can be paralyzing. It usually manifests itself into illness and physical pain for me.
I remember every goodbye. There is always a fleeting moment when I can't help my brain from wondering, Is this the last time I'll ever touch him, kiss his lips, see his face? It's an awful thought, not one I try to acknowledge, but this is the reality of being a military spouse.
The first few days are the worst. When a Miley Cyrus song makes me start crying while I'm driving, I know it's okay, but damn you, Miley. Really? Bursting into tears at any given moment is a given. So if I tend to hole up in my house for a few days, that's why. I give myself a week at the most to be sad, to be lonely, to be angry, to adjust to the reality that while he is away, I'm on my own. It's me and my son against the world.
Little things can make my heart feel like it's breaking. The first morning I wake up and see his pillow and remember he won't be using it for awhile makes me teary-eyed. Doing the laundry and folding his clothes he just wore a few days ago is no easy task. Seeing friends describing their family time and fun plans for the weekend on Facebook sends a stab of anger through me. I've learned to not be so bitter. This is our life. We will once again have our family time, but for now, it's not the same with 1/3 of the family not here.
I've found solace and joy in my fellow Army wives. We lean on each other, help each other out, and we are not embarrassed to call each other and admit we're having a bad day. It's a nice feeling knowing there are friends going through the exact same thing.
It's also nice to have my civilian friends, who, for a fleeting moment, make me feel normal. I like when they ask me how Adam is doing. They care, and that helps.
I won't lie...every minute, every hour, every day I worry. I worry for Adam, for his fellow Soldiers, my fellow wives, for my son, for Adam's mom, you name it, I worry. More than worrying, though, is a feeling of pride, even hubris in knowing my husband is among the few who voluntarily sacrifices his way of life to do his job. There is a feeling of pride that we spouses experience that is hard to put into words.
This is my experience. This is my life. Thank you to everyone for their support of our troops. It means the world to all of us.
To be brutally honest, I have wrestled with the ups and downs of depression for many, many years. Sometimes I can feel myself slipping into a funk, other times I can look back and see when I was not doing so well. I've gotten really good at identifying when I am not feeling emotionally well. This is one of those times.
It's not something I will bring up in a casual conversation, unless I trust you. I in no way am trying to garner sympathy - it's quite the opposite. Since I'm able to recognize when I'm not doing well, I feel it's only fair to let those close to me know I'm going through a rough patch, but I do know it will get better, so please bear with me. I tend to hole up inside myself. It's hard to do much of anything. Sometimes just putting one foot in front of the other is hard. Some days taking a shower is a major accomplishment. The good days far outnumber these bad days, so no need to worry.
I have been able to pinpoint exactly what's got me in the doldrums. I miss my family, and not in a "I'll go visit and feel better" kind of way. I miss living near family. I haven't lived in Massachusetts since 1996. My family is Adam and Addison, and when Adam isn't around, it can get very lonely. It would be nice to be able to drop by my sister's house for a visit, or hang out with my cousins who I haven't seen in years. I've been able to reconnect with my cousin Ryan through Facebook, and it saddens me I don't know him better. I don't know a lot of my family better because of our circumstances. Home is where the Army sends you, but home is also where my family is, which happens to be 1,000 miles away.
I'm sure there are a lot of military families who feel the way I do. Maybe when I win the lottery I'll buy my own town down here in the South (because it seems like all of my New England family is sick of the cold weather) and move everyone down here. I'll be the mayor, of course - because I said so.
I know I'll feel better, maybe in day or two, or maybe in a week or so. That's the thing about depression - there's no telling how long it will last. In the meantime, I'll keep on keeping on, and keep fighting with all of my might to keep my chin above the water, because even though I may not feel great, I'm still an Army wife, and not even depression can beat me.
I'm no expert on parenting. In fact, when I meet people, I usually throw it right out there - I parent unconventionally. I don't always do everything right when it comes to being a parent, but no one does.
I have a hard time when I see or hear parents complain about spending time with their kids. (A quick side note: Addison and I are no doubt co-dependent. Spending so much one-on-one time for the past 12 years is my excuse, along with the fact we have each other to lean on during deployments.) I LOVE school vacations, days off, and weekends. I miss him when he leaves for school. He has pointedly asked me to NOT be home when he gets home from school, but I can't bring myself to do it. This is starting to sound creepy.
What I'm saying is, I enjoy his company. Not all of the time, because I am human. Addison is a talker; I'm usually pretty quiet. There have been times when I have said, "Please, for the love of God, just stop talking for five minutes."
I understand the need to vent, the need for alone time, and the wish that my family lived in the same town so I could actually drop him off there for a weekend. If Carol Brady had been a real person, no doubt she would have told Alice to watch her kids because she was meeting Mike for Happy Hour down at the local bar. If those damn happy kids got unruly, they could always go out back for some potato sack races.
I had one child by choice. I knew what I could handle and one was it. I have a lot of respect for anyone who chooses to have children, period. I also have respect for people who choose not to have kids, for any reason. That's their choice. I grew up saying I was going to have six kids. Then I realized what having six kids would actually be like. If I had just kept going, and had my own spawntourage, I would probably have my own show on TLC right now.
I see so many moms on Facebook wishing their child a happy birthday, and they always ask, "Where did the time go?" Addison is at that age where he would rather spend time with his friends than his parents. He's slowly slipping through our fingers, on his way to adulthood. Don't let those years you want to rip your hair out and wish Play-Doh was never invented go by too fast. Some day you might look back and realize those were the years you want back - when they let you kiss them without being embarrassed, when you're the prettiest woman in the world to them, when they want to marry you, not Katy Perry.
Get down on the floor and make a robot out of Legos. Put on the tiara and drink the pretend tea. Go to the zoo, the park, Chuck E. Cheese (they have beer there for a reason), go outside and catch fireflies, a snowflake on your tongue, or whatever you want to do.
The next time you're having a bad day, when you are wishing they are 18 and out of the house, go listen to "Teach Your Children" by Crosby, Stills & Nash. I guarantee you'll cry.
I have a confession to make to my civilian friends. I used to roll my eyes and exclaim, "Oh, please. Get over it," whenever I'd read a status update that said, in general, "My husband is going away for business for two weeks. What am I going to do?" I wanted to reply with, "Bitch please. Spare me. Is his life in near-constant danger? Is he being shot at? Is he praying as he rolls through the streets of Afghanistan to not hit a landmine? Then STFU."
My mother taught me an important lesson a few years back that made me rethink my meanness and self-pity. If that is what is awful for you, it's awful for you. Who am I to tell you how you should feel, and what you should think? This is our life, and your life is your life. You may not know what my life is like as a military wife, and I don't know what it's like to be married to anyone besides a soldier.
Now, for my fellow military spouses - it seems like we all like to play the "Who's got it worse?" game. "Yeah, well my husband is at a school for two months and I have four kids, so it's harder for me," or "My husband has more rank and works longer hours than yours." Come on. Knock that shit off. This is what makes it divisive among us spouses, and it's time to quit it.
I look at each and every wife on the merit of her, not her husband's rank. If I like you, I like you because of who you are, not what I think being your friend will do for my husband's career. If you insist by defining yourself by your husband's rank, unit, etc., I can guarantee you we'll never play beer pong together. Officer wives are no better than enlisted wives, and enlisted wives are no better than officer wives.
In my Utopia, we support each other, not try to one-up each other. I'm not saying there isn't support - Adam's unit, in particular, is amazing in the way others will go above and beyond for any reason. One of my first assignments when I worked at the newspaper back in 1997 was covering a luncheon. I had a neighbor, who was obviously born an asshole, constantly yell at me across the loop, "Ranger, Ranger, where's my Ranger?" Adam was away training at the time, and I suppose this dude must have hated his own life and was jealous. Anyway, I'm at this luncheon, and who is seated at my table? Two men who were in charge of Adam's whole unit. I introduced myself and one of them asked, "So, is everything going okay while he's gone?" Me, never to be the shy one, answered back, "Actually, no." Long story short, that wonderful man contacted the other soldier's chain of command and I was never harassed again.
I don't want this to come across negatively. I'm just saying I've seen too much of this "I've got it worse" attitude. You know what? Someone always has it worse, so count your blessings, get over it, and let's play some beer pong.
