I hate running. When I did run I was a sprinter. I sprinted because that's what kids do naturally and I had long legs so I was often faster than the other neighborhood kids. I also sprinted because I'm usually late and it helped me get somewhere faster. I started to hate running when doing it involved training and practice. Blah. Too much work. I don't like physical discomfort. I'll just walk. Although when no one's looking, or sometimes when they are, I still run in the hallways at school. It's fun.
My husband has run a few 10Ks while deployed. He's a runner. An endurance runner.
Luckily, my dog is the kind of runner I am. He runs to celebrate freedom, to chase squirrels or bunnies, or to have fun. So this summer we've secretly been running together. We can only go early in the morning when Lizzie is still sleeping and the neighborhood is free of witnesses. We sneak out and run laps in the cul-de-sac. We've done this about 6 times because its only when we feel like it. We're teaching each other how to jog. Sometimes he stops to pee and almost rips my arm off. That's okay because its an excuse to stop and catch my breath. I think the most we've done is 4 laps in our tiny cul-de-sac. I'm not really concerned about increasing that. It gives us just enough time to enjoy the morning, wake up, and get our blood flowing.
Do I like running now? Nope. Will I push myself harder someday? Probably not. I'll never sign up for any kind of distance run. I'll also never sign up for another deployment. But sometimes it helps to what if. So I do a few laps physically and mentally. It can't hurt.
Friday, August 28, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
Nobody's Talking
Well the soldiers have started coming home on leave. Everyone's leave is at a different time, but when they get here they have fourteen days at home. My husband will be one of the last to come home. When? We'll know when he gets here, but it won't be for a few months. I'm not letting myself think about specific dates yet. I'm more interested in what to expect and how to prepare, but no one's talking.
My past experience with Jason "visiting" for a week or two between military responsibilities makes me a little nervous. Not because of him. Its me. I go a little crazy. My head starts spinning. I start saying things I don't mean. My eyes leak continuously. I start freaking out about saying goodbye almost right after we say hello. I get possessive and possibly possessed. I lose the ability to share. I am like a Kindergartner clinging to a toy, "MINE!" Except that I'm clinging to a human being capable of making his own decisions. Okay maybe its not that bad, but my husband might see this as a pretty accurate description.
The truth is everything about the military creates mixed feelings. Sometimes outsiders don't know this. Of course the first and strongest feelings during any homecoming are happiness, relief, joy, excitement, gratitude, and possibly disbelief. But there is also some anxiety about the readjustment, frustration that the other person doesn't act or say what you pictured, annoyance that things and people changed, sadness about the time lost, fear about saying goodbye again, fear that you've both changed too much, and so on. Sometimes when I try to explain this, people respond with, "Yeah, but he's home!" I know that. He knows that. Its still not an easy transition for either of us.
So, I've tried to start preparing for his leave with lots of self talk. I have to keep repeating that under no circumstances can I hold him hostage for 14 days. He has to see a few other people and they have to see him. I have to share. I also have to give him some time for himself. Not being a soldier for 14 days after months of living and breathing it will be pretty challenging. He'll need processing time. I probably will too. Even as I type that my stomach ties in knots, my throat tightens, and I feel like hissing or hitting delete. I'm also telling myself to remember he is not me. He will come home and do things his way. That's okay. I married him because of who he is, not because he is a male version of me. I will regain my status as Queen of the Castle soon enough and by that time I won't want it. I'll be missing the King of the Castle too much to care.
Don't worry- I'll let myself feel all the happy emotions. That's the easy part. I don't need any preparation for that. My other emotions have a tendency to knock both me and Jason out if I let them sneak up on us. So, I will prepare for leave by taking inventory of the emotions that start to move in. I will name them, assign them to rooms and give them things to do. Clean the closet. Write. Sing silly songs with my daughter. Sit there and don't say anything. Be supportive. Listen. Breathe. This self talk and preparation will allow me to keep the craziness away. I hope. Am I alone in this internal battle? I hope not, but I cannot be sure.
I know one family who chose to pass on their soldier's leave because last time was too hard. I know someone else who admitted to picking a lot of fights when her husband was home. She didn't want to and she didn't know why it happened. Another normally well adjusted woman drove around her neighborhood before going home because she just couldn't have any more sex that day. Someone else had trouble getting out of bed when her soldier left again (not another side effect of sex, but from depression). Others have said they feel like its the first goodbye all over again.
I ask Jason about the soldiers who have returned from leave. How are they? What do they say about it? I ask wives how their time was or how they feel about an upcoming visit. I've gotten some straight answers, but mostly vague mumblings about how good it was to see each other. I know THAT. I want to know the other stuff. The stuff no one is talking about.
Having 14 days together is supposed to be a wonderful thing, so maybe its hard to admit the not so wonderful stuff about it. We feel guilty. But, maybe if we talk about the not so great parts, we can make them go away and we can just enjoy the time. At the very least, talking might help us feel a little less crazy and not so alone. Or maybe its just me?
My past experience with Jason "visiting" for a week or two between military responsibilities makes me a little nervous. Not because of him. Its me. I go a little crazy. My head starts spinning. I start saying things I don't mean. My eyes leak continuously. I start freaking out about saying goodbye almost right after we say hello. I get possessive and possibly possessed. I lose the ability to share. I am like a Kindergartner clinging to a toy, "MINE!" Except that I'm clinging to a human being capable of making his own decisions. Okay maybe its not that bad, but my husband might see this as a pretty accurate description.
The truth is everything about the military creates mixed feelings. Sometimes outsiders don't know this. Of course the first and strongest feelings during any homecoming are happiness, relief, joy, excitement, gratitude, and possibly disbelief. But there is also some anxiety about the readjustment, frustration that the other person doesn't act or say what you pictured, annoyance that things and people changed, sadness about the time lost, fear about saying goodbye again, fear that you've both changed too much, and so on. Sometimes when I try to explain this, people respond with, "Yeah, but he's home!" I know that. He knows that. Its still not an easy transition for either of us.
So, I've tried to start preparing for his leave with lots of self talk. I have to keep repeating that under no circumstances can I hold him hostage for 14 days. He has to see a few other people and they have to see him. I have to share. I also have to give him some time for himself. Not being a soldier for 14 days after months of living and breathing it will be pretty challenging. He'll need processing time. I probably will too. Even as I type that my stomach ties in knots, my throat tightens, and I feel like hissing or hitting delete. I'm also telling myself to remember he is not me. He will come home and do things his way. That's okay. I married him because of who he is, not because he is a male version of me. I will regain my status as Queen of the Castle soon enough and by that time I won't want it. I'll be missing the King of the Castle too much to care.
Don't worry- I'll let myself feel all the happy emotions. That's the easy part. I don't need any preparation for that. My other emotions have a tendency to knock both me and Jason out if I let them sneak up on us. So, I will prepare for leave by taking inventory of the emotions that start to move in. I will name them, assign them to rooms and give them things to do. Clean the closet. Write. Sing silly songs with my daughter. Sit there and don't say anything. Be supportive. Listen. Breathe. This self talk and preparation will allow me to keep the craziness away. I hope. Am I alone in this internal battle? I hope not, but I cannot be sure.
I know one family who chose to pass on their soldier's leave because last time was too hard. I know someone else who admitted to picking a lot of fights when her husband was home. She didn't want to and she didn't know why it happened. Another normally well adjusted woman drove around her neighborhood before going home because she just couldn't have any more sex that day. Someone else had trouble getting out of bed when her soldier left again (not another side effect of sex, but from depression). Others have said they feel like its the first goodbye all over again.
I ask Jason about the soldiers who have returned from leave. How are they? What do they say about it? I ask wives how their time was or how they feel about an upcoming visit. I've gotten some straight answers, but mostly vague mumblings about how good it was to see each other. I know THAT. I want to know the other stuff. The stuff no one is talking about.
Having 14 days together is supposed to be a wonderful thing, so maybe its hard to admit the not so wonderful stuff about it. We feel guilty. But, maybe if we talk about the not so great parts, we can make them go away and we can just enjoy the time. At the very least, talking might help us feel a little less crazy and not so alone. Or maybe its just me?
Tuesday, August 11, 2009
My hopes
I won't call it a pledge, promise, or goal. That is too much pressure. I will put in writing that I HOPE to post something weekly. I also hope you'll check back frequently and post your comments.
How do we do this?
I read a status update from a fellow army wife on Facebook. She wonders how other people do this. "This" being working full time and taking care of 2 kids, alone. I've gotten to know her over the past few months and she's amazingly tough and balanced. She gave birth to their second baby a few months after her husband deployed. He hasn't met the baby yet. Every time I talk to her she seems pulled together, happy, and coherent. Three things I know I wasn't when my baby was born. And my husband was home.
If anyone can do this, she can. But that really doesn't answer the question. How do we do this? How the fuck do we do this? Can someone PLEASE tell us? How do we become single parents during deployment?
I go back to work in 2 weeks. I told my sister I don't remember how I managed work and home with Jason gone at the end of last school year. I've been so busy all summer! How can I add work back into my life? Not just any work but the nine plus daily hours of being an elementary teacher to a class full of needy kids. My sister said people ask her how I do it. I laughed and told her I have no idea.
I do know that I've gotten better at taking things one day at a time. Every time I start stressing about going back to school, I remember that I am not going back today. Then I focus on what I need to do today. I also try to remember that I have worried about the start of the school year since I started Kindergarten 26 years ago. Deployment did not create this worry. It just gave me more fuel.
I also try to ask for and accept help. This too has been a challenge in my life since Kindergarten when I couldn't find my classroom and didn't want to ask for help. I remember hot angry tears filling my eyes because I couldn't remember my room number. I'd like to think I've made some progress in this area, but accepting help from others is hard. I still get mad at myself or the situation before I realize that lots of people are waiting to help me in any way they can. If only I'd let them.
Last deployment a friend came up with the daily goal. What's the goal today? The goal could be anything as long as it was simple and concrete. It helped us feel successful on those days when getting out of bed was hard. Quite often my goal was something like, "wash the dishes" or "get through the day without crying in front of strangers" or "turn the TV off when the news comes on". We'd check in at the end of the day. Yup. Today was a good day because I didn't cry or scream or act crazy in public.
With a child, there really isn't an option to only accomplish one thing and feel good about it. But I frequently give myself permission to let things go. I lower the expectations. A teacher lowering expectations? Believe it. Its okay if I don't do the dishes. Its okay if the only 3 things I cook for weeks are pizza, pasta, and pancakes. My daughter and I like foods that begin with P and at least we ate something mostly healthy together. And at least I rotated the 3 Ps. We got some variety. And I didn't cry in front of her while we ate.
Actually, I haven't cried during a dinner with her in months. I have made great gains in the area of crying. Of course I still tear up and let tears leak out once in awhile, and I still have a good sob when necessary. I wouldn't be me if I didn't. But that pathetic weeping? Check. I've gotten that mostly under control. I'm going to feel good about that. No more weeping. Usually. What a ridiculous thing to pat myself on the back for, but being a single parent during deployment is also ridiculous. How do we do it? We just do.
If anyone can do this, she can. But that really doesn't answer the question. How do we do this? How the fuck do we do this? Can someone PLEASE tell us? How do we become single parents during deployment?
I go back to work in 2 weeks. I told my sister I don't remember how I managed work and home with Jason gone at the end of last school year. I've been so busy all summer! How can I add work back into my life? Not just any work but the nine plus daily hours of being an elementary teacher to a class full of needy kids. My sister said people ask her how I do it. I laughed and told her I have no idea.
I do know that I've gotten better at taking things one day at a time. Every time I start stressing about going back to school, I remember that I am not going back today. Then I focus on what I need to do today. I also try to remember that I have worried about the start of the school year since I started Kindergarten 26 years ago. Deployment did not create this worry. It just gave me more fuel.
I also try to ask for and accept help. This too has been a challenge in my life since Kindergarten when I couldn't find my classroom and didn't want to ask for help. I remember hot angry tears filling my eyes because I couldn't remember my room number. I'd like to think I've made some progress in this area, but accepting help from others is hard. I still get mad at myself or the situation before I realize that lots of people are waiting to help me in any way they can. If only I'd let them.
Last deployment a friend came up with the daily goal. What's the goal today? The goal could be anything as long as it was simple and concrete. It helped us feel successful on those days when getting out of bed was hard. Quite often my goal was something like, "wash the dishes" or "get through the day without crying in front of strangers" or "turn the TV off when the news comes on". We'd check in at the end of the day. Yup. Today was a good day because I didn't cry or scream or act crazy in public.
With a child, there really isn't an option to only accomplish one thing and feel good about it. But I frequently give myself permission to let things go. I lower the expectations. A teacher lowering expectations? Believe it. Its okay if I don't do the dishes. Its okay if the only 3 things I cook for weeks are pizza, pasta, and pancakes. My daughter and I like foods that begin with P and at least we ate something mostly healthy together. And at least I rotated the 3 Ps. We got some variety. And I didn't cry in front of her while we ate.
Actually, I haven't cried during a dinner with her in months. I have made great gains in the area of crying. Of course I still tear up and let tears leak out once in awhile, and I still have a good sob when necessary. I wouldn't be me if I didn't. But that pathetic weeping? Check. I've gotten that mostly under control. I'm going to feel good about that. No more weeping. Usually. What a ridiculous thing to pat myself on the back for, but being a single parent during deployment is also ridiculous. How do we do it? We just do.
Saturday, August 1, 2009
Confessions from the Queen of Clutter
My plan for the summer was to declutter the house. I made some progress. Two drawers were emptied, reorganized, and still remain neat. My bathroom counter is almost always cleared off. I organized the house files so that I had a place to put all the incoming mail and paper that I need to keep. The files look beautiful and there are less papers on the kitchen table because of it, but its hard to tell. Sometimes I have a pile next to the file of things that need to be filed. I have 2 bags of clothes packed to donate and I finally made the call for a pick up.
That's where the decluttering projects have come to a stand still. I still can't manage to keep my bedroom or the kitchen counters and table clean. Sometimes there's a pile of stuff that I'm going to send to Jason...when the pile gets big enough. Sometimes there's a pile of stuff I need to do or mail or give to somebody. I'm just naturally a piler. When I'm stressed I don't get around to sorting through those piles so they multiply. I'm sure I'll get a few more things done in the next month, but I have sooooo many excuses and other things to do. There are 2 things I have finally accepted that I probably won't deal with until Jason gets home, even though it feels silly.
1. I have purposely not washed 3 of Jason's dirty shirts. He left them in the hamper almost 4 months ago. I pulled them out and set them on his dresser. They're still there. Why? Originally I thought I could wear them, smell him, and feel close. I haven't. I still can't bring myself to wash them or put them away.
2. There are 11 messages on my answering machine. Most are from Jason. I don't listen to them very often, only when I need information from one of the other saved messages. I can't delete any from Jason and I forget to delete messages from others. Lizzie and I enjoy one where Jason is being silly. Whenever she hears it she stops what she's doing and smiles, "Daddy being silly."
If you come to visit and you can't see any surfaces you'll know my excuse. I'm sentimental. I'm finding meaning in every pile.
That's where the decluttering projects have come to a stand still. I still can't manage to keep my bedroom or the kitchen counters and table clean. Sometimes there's a pile of stuff that I'm going to send to Jason...when the pile gets big enough. Sometimes there's a pile of stuff I need to do or mail or give to somebody. I'm just naturally a piler. When I'm stressed I don't get around to sorting through those piles so they multiply. I'm sure I'll get a few more things done in the next month, but I have sooooo many excuses and other things to do. There are 2 things I have finally accepted that I probably won't deal with until Jason gets home, even though it feels silly.
1. I have purposely not washed 3 of Jason's dirty shirts. He left them in the hamper almost 4 months ago. I pulled them out and set them on his dresser. They're still there. Why? Originally I thought I could wear them, smell him, and feel close. I haven't. I still can't bring myself to wash them or put them away.
2. There are 11 messages on my answering machine. Most are from Jason. I don't listen to them very often, only when I need information from one of the other saved messages. I can't delete any from Jason and I forget to delete messages from others. Lizzie and I enjoy one where Jason is being silly. Whenever she hears it she stops what she's doing and smiles, "Daddy being silly."
If you come to visit and you can't see any surfaces you'll know my excuse. I'm sentimental. I'm finding meaning in every pile.
Sunday, July 12, 2009
The curse that no one talks about
Last time Jason was deployed I listened as an army wife shared that during a previous deployment her basement had flooded a few days (or weeks?) before her husband returned. She didn't want to deal with it so she closed the basement door and left it. Some how her husband had forgiven her and the mess/damage had been taken care of. Can you IMAGINE that conversation?
I couldn't stop laughing when I heard the story. I wasn't laughing at her. I was laughing because I could see myself in the story. I completely understood that sort of resignation and denial-that feeling of "nope, I'm not going to deal with this."
This was also my first time hearing about what I now call the "curse". No one talks about it. No one warns you. But it happens. There is a strange thing that happens when soldiers deploy. Their homes start falling apart in unexpected ways. Suddenly things break that had been working for YEARS. Problems creep up that you never even considered a possibility.
When Jason was at military training last summer I had unexpected visitors. MICE. We had NEVER had ANY sign of ANY pest in our home. I hate mice. When I was 12 I went to Girl Scout camp and there was maybe a mouse in our cabin-we couldn't be sure. I refused to sleep in my bed. Two friends pushed their bunks together and let me sleep in between them.
I didn't think I could expect my dog and daughter to sleep next to me and keep away the mice. But I wasn't about to face the mice or do anything about them. I started out by ignoring the problem. I hadn't found enough mouse poop to prove that a whole family of mice had been gorging themselves on the giant bag of abandoned dog food in a basement closet (what were we THINKING?). My headlights hadn't caught a mouse scurrying along the house ledge as I pulled into the garage. I couldn't hear mice squeaking and plotting how to take over the world when I walked in and out of the house. Nope. It wasn't happening. Everything was normal. I certainly couldn't SMELL mice. That must be the dog. Or me. Maybe I better shower again.
Although I didn't do anything about the mice, I did talk a little about them. I told my family and even Jason about them. I also told them about my denial and my refusal to do anything. They'd occasionally ask questions like, "Seen any mice?" "Set any mouse traps yet?" My mother found it hard to believe that I could HEAR mice. (Okay, okay, I'll admit I couldn't understand them, but I COULD hear them under the step into the house!) When people realized that I really wasn't doing anything about the mice, they started offering to help.
The offers to help and the fact that I was starting to obsess about mice (Was that one? Are they upstairs now? Should I move out until Jason gets home?) reminded me that I needed to pull myself together! I am usually a little hard headed about accepting help. I take pride in being independent.
After a lot more whining, I finally put my fear of mice aside, threw out the remaining dog food, vacuumed up the mound of mouse poop, bought 3 mouse traps, filled them with peanut butter, and set them out. Then the dog and I settled in for a night of TV. About 2 hours after setting the traps it got dark and we heard, "SNAP"....."SNAP"....."SNAP" within a 5 minute time frame. We just looked at each other. Then I turned the TV volume up and went back to my happy place of denial.
The next morning, I held my breath, kept my feet out of the path of any scurrying mice and checked the basement closet and garage traps. All 3 traps had dead mice in them. (I'm sorry to any strong animal rights activists reading this. You can come humanly remove the mice if they invade again. I wasn't brave enough for that. I did avoid sticky traps because I had heard those could cause mice to die slowly over a few days of being stuck.) After I had confirmation that the traps worked, I put on rubber gloves, got a huge garbage bag, and made the dog stay nearby. Then... I did it. I emptied everyone of those reusable snap traps with my head turned away and eyes closed. I shivered, squealed, and screamed. Then I sealed the bag and threw it in the dumpster and scrubbed by hands... twice. The whole procedure took at least 30 minutes. Not including the morning of psyching myself up for the task. But that didn't matter. I had faced my fears, opened the closet door, and started a war on mice.
I continued catching mice. There was one day the fear came back and my dad had to come empty 2 traps, but I did manage to do the rest on my own. I caught TEN mice during the 2 weeks Jason was gone. I found the last one in a trap the morning after Jason returned. I emptied it (without gloves and taking a minute or less) and thought, "Jason can take over the mouse war tomorrow." Well, go figure, there were no more mice the next day or the next. Jason had returned and the mice knew it. The curse had been lifted.
This time soon after Jason left, our garage lights flickered out. Then the hallway and kitchen bulbs burned out. I told my brother about it. He claimed light bulbs do that. I claimed it was the curse of deployment. The screws in my house are also loosening, especially on door knobs. I've tightened them twice since Jason left. I don't think he was regularly tightening screws when he was at home. I also don't think someone is secretively loosening them now. Its just the curse. That's okay loose door handles are easy to fix. I'll take them over mice any day.
I know I'm not the only one affected by the curse. My friend's house was invaded by squirrels and a NEST of their babies (found under her sink). That wouldn't have happened if her soldier was home. I'm not trying to be sexist. I don't know any military husbands, but I wouldn't be surprised if it happens to them too. It doesn't have to do with the wives not being able to fix it (WE CAN!), its just a curse. An inevitable part of deployment, right?
Okay, so I'm being a bit silly. But it seems like the best explanation. Plus it makes facing the falling apart house a little more manageable and even fun. Its not my fault things fall apart, but its up to me to fix them...or ignore them. After all, I am working against a CURSE, I can't reverse ALL of its effects. So, I'll choose which problems I fix. Just last week I heard a rodent or bird in the garage. I'm still ignoring that, but my screw driver is on hand for loose door handles and my light bulbs are all working... for now.
I'd love to hear your stories!
I couldn't stop laughing when I heard the story. I wasn't laughing at her. I was laughing because I could see myself in the story. I completely understood that sort of resignation and denial-that feeling of "nope, I'm not going to deal with this."
This was also my first time hearing about what I now call the "curse". No one talks about it. No one warns you. But it happens. There is a strange thing that happens when soldiers deploy. Their homes start falling apart in unexpected ways. Suddenly things break that had been working for YEARS. Problems creep up that you never even considered a possibility.
When Jason was at military training last summer I had unexpected visitors. MICE. We had NEVER had ANY sign of ANY pest in our home. I hate mice. When I was 12 I went to Girl Scout camp and there was maybe a mouse in our cabin-we couldn't be sure. I refused to sleep in my bed. Two friends pushed their bunks together and let me sleep in between them.
I didn't think I could expect my dog and daughter to sleep next to me and keep away the mice. But I wasn't about to face the mice or do anything about them. I started out by ignoring the problem. I hadn't found enough mouse poop to prove that a whole family of mice had been gorging themselves on the giant bag of abandoned dog food in a basement closet (what were we THINKING?). My headlights hadn't caught a mouse scurrying along the house ledge as I pulled into the garage. I couldn't hear mice squeaking and plotting how to take over the world when I walked in and out of the house. Nope. It wasn't happening. Everything was normal. I certainly couldn't SMELL mice. That must be the dog. Or me. Maybe I better shower again.
Although I didn't do anything about the mice, I did talk a little about them. I told my family and even Jason about them. I also told them about my denial and my refusal to do anything. They'd occasionally ask questions like, "Seen any mice?" "Set any mouse traps yet?" My mother found it hard to believe that I could HEAR mice. (Okay, okay, I'll admit I couldn't understand them, but I COULD hear them under the step into the house!) When people realized that I really wasn't doing anything about the mice, they started offering to help.
The offers to help and the fact that I was starting to obsess about mice (Was that one? Are they upstairs now? Should I move out until Jason gets home?) reminded me that I needed to pull myself together! I am usually a little hard headed about accepting help. I take pride in being independent.
After a lot more whining, I finally put my fear of mice aside, threw out the remaining dog food, vacuumed up the mound of mouse poop, bought 3 mouse traps, filled them with peanut butter, and set them out. Then the dog and I settled in for a night of TV. About 2 hours after setting the traps it got dark and we heard, "SNAP"....."SNAP"....."SNAP" within a 5 minute time frame. We just looked at each other. Then I turned the TV volume up and went back to my happy place of denial.
The next morning, I held my breath, kept my feet out of the path of any scurrying mice and checked the basement closet and garage traps. All 3 traps had dead mice in them. (I'm sorry to any strong animal rights activists reading this. You can come humanly remove the mice if they invade again. I wasn't brave enough for that. I did avoid sticky traps because I had heard those could cause mice to die slowly over a few days of being stuck.) After I had confirmation that the traps worked, I put on rubber gloves, got a huge garbage bag, and made the dog stay nearby. Then... I did it. I emptied everyone of those reusable snap traps with my head turned away and eyes closed. I shivered, squealed, and screamed. Then I sealed the bag and threw it in the dumpster and scrubbed by hands... twice. The whole procedure took at least 30 minutes. Not including the morning of psyching myself up for the task. But that didn't matter. I had faced my fears, opened the closet door, and started a war on mice.
I continued catching mice. There was one day the fear came back and my dad had to come empty 2 traps, but I did manage to do the rest on my own. I caught TEN mice during the 2 weeks Jason was gone. I found the last one in a trap the morning after Jason returned. I emptied it (without gloves and taking a minute or less) and thought, "Jason can take over the mouse war tomorrow." Well, go figure, there were no more mice the next day or the next. Jason had returned and the mice knew it. The curse had been lifted.
This time soon after Jason left, our garage lights flickered out. Then the hallway and kitchen bulbs burned out. I told my brother about it. He claimed light bulbs do that. I claimed it was the curse of deployment. The screws in my house are also loosening, especially on door knobs. I've tightened them twice since Jason left. I don't think he was regularly tightening screws when he was at home. I also don't think someone is secretively loosening them now. Its just the curse. That's okay loose door handles are easy to fix. I'll take them over mice any day.
I know I'm not the only one affected by the curse. My friend's house was invaded by squirrels and a NEST of their babies (found under her sink). That wouldn't have happened if her soldier was home. I'm not trying to be sexist. I don't know any military husbands, but I wouldn't be surprised if it happens to them too. It doesn't have to do with the wives not being able to fix it (WE CAN!), its just a curse. An inevitable part of deployment, right?
Okay, so I'm being a bit silly. But it seems like the best explanation. Plus it makes facing the falling apart house a little more manageable and even fun. Its not my fault things fall apart, but its up to me to fix them...or ignore them. After all, I am working against a CURSE, I can't reverse ALL of its effects. So, I'll choose which problems I fix. Just last week I heard a rodent or bird in the garage. I'm still ignoring that, but my screw driver is on hand for loose door handles and my light bulbs are all working... for now.
I'd love to hear your stories!
Sunday, July 5, 2009
Red, White, and Blue
When I was in high school I took part in this thing that required me to be interviewed by some ladies from the American Legion. I agreed to do it because my teachers said I should, but I didn't really care about the process or the outcome.
I noticed that these women of the American Legion cared about things that I had never thought of, and I felt some admiration and awe for them because of it. They cared about government, and being an involved citizen; but most striking to me was that they cared about our flag. They gave me a carefully packaged flag. They gave ME, a 15 year old kid, a flag. With it came directions on how to fold it, display it, and care for it. What was I going to do with a flag? I'd never given the flag any thought; other than to notice where it was so that I could face it when I was supposed to say the "Pledge of Allegiance" or during the National Anthem at ball games. I knew I'd never burn a flag, but truthfully I didn't understand why this activity was sometimes covered on the news. It's just a flag, right?
I remember trying to understand these women and their passion and dedication to our country and flag. They might have been wives to soldiers who fought in some war that ended long before my life. Who knows? What I did know is that they had pride and an unexplainable toughness radiating off them. I liked that.
I'm ashamed to say that it took me longer to have the same admiration for soldiers. I remember saying, "Why would anyone join the military? That's so stupid." and then quite possibly, the most ironic statement I've ever said, "I could never marry a soldier."
Then I met Jason. He had signed up for the Army Reserves a few short weeks before we met. He would be headed to Basic Training that summer. He pursued me and I liked him, so I didn't pay much attention to the big army duffel bags he dragged into our relationship. Although as our relationship grew I figured (hoped!) he'd be done with the Army soon. I chose to ignore that the duffel bags were no longer big enough to contain all the uniforms and equipment he was accumulating. Army was spilling into our lives whether I wanted it to or not. But I kept thinking, "He'll be out soon. This life isn't for us."
Fast forward 10 years to the 4th of July parade in my parents' home town. I went with my daughter and my parents. Lizzie had her "Daddy doll" with because Daddy is deployed. I stood, with pride, as the flag went by. I looked around to see if others were standing (they were). As veterans marched and rode by I was filled with pride and gratitude. Pride that I am married to a soldier. Gratitude that so many men and women are willing to volunteer to serve our country.
There were floats, signs, or some kind of representation from all branches of the military, the VFW, and the American Legion. There were lots of those older generation veterans, probably married to the women who interviewed me many years ago. There were also many younger veterans. Some younger than me. Then, a float full of women and children went by with signs of support for their deployed soldiers (dads and grandpas). I wanted to jump aboard and say, "I'm one of you too!" I wanted to push Lizzie up there and let her be surrounded by kids whose dads are making the same sacrifices as hers. I want her to know she's not alone.
There were floats, signs, or some kind of representation from all branches of the military, the VFW, and the American Legion. There were lots of those older generation veterans, probably married to the women who interviewed me many years ago. There were also many younger veterans. Some younger than me. Then, a float full of women and children went by with signs of support for their deployed soldiers (dads and grandpas). I wanted to jump aboard and say, "I'm one of you too!" I wanted to push Lizzie up there and let her be surrounded by kids whose dads are making the same sacrifices as hers. I want her to know she's not alone.
Suddenly,without realizing it, I'm part of that "group" that didn't make sense to me so many years ago. I've been a military girlfriend, fiancee, and wife for awhile. But now, I have pride that can't be explained or understood. It came without warning. I cry during parades. I sometimes blink back tears when my students say the "Pledge of Allegiance". I notice and respect the flag. I smile with pride and admiration when I see a soldier in uniform. My heart skips a beat. Not because they look like the man I love (although sometimes they do!), but because I'm amazed by their courage and sacrifice.
Damn this deployment! It's giving me more reasons to be a sap. I really didn't need any more.
Damn this deployment! It's giving me more reasons to be a sap. I really didn't need any more.
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