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.
Friday, October 29, 2010
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
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.
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.
Friday, October 8, 2010
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.
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.
Thursday, October 7, 2010
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.
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.
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