I'm a Republican and I'm not ashamed to say so. It seems that affiliating yourself with either party these days will make you subject to being called names, questioning your intelligence, and so on. This needs to just stop.
We have been a military family for 16 years, and if you research it, the majority of servicemembers vote Republican. Why? Because it's the best for our way of life. I believe in a woman's right to choose and gay marriage. But if by voting Republican makes it better for myself and my family, the obvious choice is clear. I have made sacrifices for my family, large and small, including leaving a job I loved after 10 years because it was best for my family.
I read a comment months ago that said all Republicans are idiots. Nice blanket statement there, twatwaffle. This is one of the most ignorant comments I've ever seen. They might have well said a person is wrong for what color skin they have what and what sex they are. It's this sort of political crap that really boils my blood. Here's a mirror, now go fuck yourself. (I know, I have a bad potty mouth, get off my fucking back, I'll try harder, okay?)
By the time November rolls around, I think most of us are going to be annoyed to high heaven by each other. Sorry, but a million postings of Democratic leanings are not going to sway me. I am adamant about keeping an open mind in every situation, and trying to see both sides of something. It seems most people aren't willing to do this. Your loss, bud. Do some soul-searching, think about what your morals and convictions are, not everyone else's, or your parents, or your significant other. Think for yourself.
That's my opinion. If you don't like it, here's your mirror.
I consider myself an almost-pro at deployments. No one will ever be a pro, because that's just the way life is. Just when you think you have a handle on life during a deployment, Murphy's Law sneaks up and bites you in the butt. (Both cheeks, by the way.) Many times Adam will ask what we had for supper. I pause, then whisper, "McDonald's." I feel bad that 1) We ate crap food; and 2) I didn't cook. Yes, we have take-out a lot more often when Adam is gone. It's just easier, and here's why.
I'm not a "single" parent, but I am parenting alone. Adam does what he can, but it's hard when you're on the other side of the world. Throw in the fact that Addison is less than 3 weeks from becoming a teenager, and moody, sulky, you name it, he's it. At least 10 times a day I want to bang my head against the wall. There's nothing I can do about this other than count my blessings and move on.
I often feel overwhelmed (only maybe five times a day) when Adam is gone. There's always a million more things to do, and they constantly hover in the back of my head. While I'm trying to do my part, I'm also doing Adam's part - yard work, taking Addison fishing, etc. I refuse to feel sorry for myself, though, because I enjoy that time with Addison, and know Adam would give it all up in a minute to be able to spend that time with him. It's no secret Addison and I are extremely close to the point of being co-dependent. We've been together through every deployment, just him and I. We've been each other's support system.
I guess I've really gotten off the point I'm trying to make. When Adam is gone, life is different. We don't try to emulate what it's like when Adam is home. We do our own thing. We have to, because life is different. Cake for dinner? Sure. The rules are little more relaxed, and that's okay. If we have an hour between baseball games, well then yeah, we're going to McDonald's for supper. If we want to stay up late and sleep in late, we do.
I make no apologies to anyone on how I run things during deployments. Everyone has to adjust to being alone, being the only parent, the only relative in the same state. Some things will fall by the wayside, other things will figure prominently into our every day life. That's just how it goes. While I don't know what it is like to fight a war in a foreign country, Adam doesn't know what it's like to be the only parent for months on end. We don't try to compare what it's like for either of us. We say thank you to each other for what we both do, and show appreciation for that.
If you want cake for dinner tonight, eat the cake, even if your spouse isn't deployed, because really, life's too short to not enjoy cake.
When I was pregnant, I sat down in the recliner in the nursery, and talked to God. I'm not a very religious person, but I promised I would be the best mother I could be if he would please send me a good kid. God not only answered my prayer, but He went way above and beyond.
Every parent thinks their kid is perfect. I know Addison isn't perfect, but in my eyes, he's pretty dang good. I not only love him, I also like him. He makes me laugh, he frustrates me, he makes me proud all the time, and I'm a lucky girl to be able to call myself his mother.
Being a mother isn't easy. I worry, I fret, I wonder if I'm doing it right. I see my job as his mom as getting him ready for the world, for real life when he's an adult. Life is tough, so I refuse to shelter him. I may be a bit lot unconventional at times, but he understands. I'm honest with him. Being a military child for all of his almost 13 years has made him resilient. He's gone through things most children haven't, and for this I'm grateful. He knows the heartache of missing his father while he's deployed, of knowing he's in a dangerous land, yet he soldiers on. He's seen me cry when we lose a Ranger overseas. I want him to grow up to be a good man, a productive member of society, to know that the world owes him nothing, and it's up to him to make the kind of life he wants.
I knew when I was pregnant that this child was going to be my one and only shot at being a mother. It was my choice. I have been beyond blessed having Addison as my son, and am thankful every day that God gave me him.
I fell in love with an 18-year-old boy who was just graduating from high school. I was 21 and this wasn't my first rodeo. I broke up with my boyfriend on our one-year anniversary and was out on a date with Adam that same night. Sure, I could have played it safe and stayed with that other boyfriend, and gotten married, had kids, and had a secure life. But I didn't. Adam was leaving for basic training in two months, and we packed a lot of living into that two months.
My point is this: I fell in love. Did I want to date a guy who was leaving for months on end and know that eventually I would have to move to wherever he was, leaving the only life I had known, along with family and friends? It wasn't my ideal life, but I did it. Because I love him. Same reason we've been married almost 16 years now, and we're still living the Army life. It would be nice to have a husband who has a regular schedule, who doesn't deploy, and I know will be around for birthdays, holidays, anniversaries and more. This is our life, and I love it.
I can't imagine if someone or something told me I couldn't marry Adam. This is why I support gay marriage. Who are we to say someone can't get married because they're the same gender? Is their love any different from the love a man and woman feel? Love is love, plain and simple. Marriage isn't easy, so when two people decide they want to be together (hopefully) forever, who is anyone to say they can't? I always try to put myself in someone else's shoes before I form an opinion, and this is why I feel this way. I know there are people against gay marriage for personal, religious, etc., reasons, and that's fine. Everyone is entitled to their opinion and belief. But, until you are denied something most Americans are not, it's easy to have that opinion and belief.
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.
