Saturday, May 31, 2008

Full Steam Ahead

My husband returned to me yesterday afternoon with a big smile on his face and some very interesting stories to tell about MEPS. I'll save those for a later date. For now, I'll just say he passed. He made tape. He passed the physical. He is good to go.

Friday, May 30, 2008

Evan's First Night Without Daddy

Last night, as a van pulled away with my husband in it, I was more concerned with how I was going to handle it than I was my son's reaction. Evan is a very resilient little boy, adn most of the time, if one does not make a fuss over the issue, he may not even notice something is amiss.
Yesterday was no exception for my baby boy. I allowed him to play outside until 2100, as those lovely summer nights equate to no nightfall until well after bedtime.
He waved goodbye to Daddy and continued to play. No problem.
But then bedtime hit. Teeth were brushed, jammies were donned, and the boy was tucked in.
But then I heard the little footsteps padding down the stairs. Big, fat tears rolling down his little angel face. "Mommy, my Daddy's not here! You have to read me two stories since he isn't here!" His tiny fists held out two story books, and so we read. The tears continued. "Mommy, I can't give Daddy a hug and kiss goodnight!" I offered him a picture frame with a small snapshot of John in it, but this simply would not do. So I zoomed in on a picture of John's face I had saved on the computer, to where it appeared almost life-sized. Evan kissed his Daddy on the screen, but insisted he take the smaller framed picture to bed with him.
But then it was "Mommy, I want to sleep in something that reminds me of Daddy." I dug through a basket of clean laundry to offer up a tee for my baby to sleep in, but no. It had to smell like Daddy. So hand-in-hand, Evan and I traipsed up the stairs to locate John's cologne so Evan could smell Daddy while he drifted off to sleep.
Before I knew it, all was silent, and I was alone with my thoughts. I missed him.

Thursday, May 29, 2008


This is the 101st post here on my little blog. Wow! Really? I closed my eyes, typing blindly and made it the 100-post mark.
Not such a big deal, right? Well, not so fast. I'm a bit flaky. Pretty persistent in all other aspects of my life. But I get these little short-lived urges to keep journals or memoirs, and I will go to a store somewhere and find these beautiful little journals, and start writing, only to drop it a short while later. When I die, and someone is forced to go through my effects, they will find a plethora of these with short blurbs about my life and my thoughts. Maybe, just maybe, if that individual strings them altogether, he or she will come up with some random sequence.
So...Here I am. I've managed to produce 100 posts, which makes me want to give myself a little pat on the back. I've managed to stick with blogging significantly better than I have with physical writing.
Which serves as a nice segue into my next issue. How does one produce these blogs that boast hundreds of thousands of visits each week? I'm sure the skill of the blogger has something to do with it. I'm no Hemingway. And this is more for myself anyhow. And I must admit to being technologically impaired. I cannot seem to get my favorites to work on Technorati and blogrolling is lost to me. If I stumble upon a link I like, I do it the old-fashioned way of cutting and pasting the URL in my little list on here.
So if any bloggers have stumbled upon my little patch of ground in Cyberland and have any tips, let me know.

He isn't .....

...At MEPS. He called his recruiter yesterday and asked when he was going to be picked up to go, and the recruiter said that there was some sort of problem with paperwork and he wouldn't be going until tonight. So here we go again.

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Laziness= Me

Blee-blee-Do-da Blah-blah-blah......
Guess what? I have done nothing today other than the crying jag just completed about 2 minutes ago. I am not even cooking dinner, as our neighbors have decided that tonight is a communal taco night. So when they get home from their daughter's soccer practice, I am going to be consuming other people's food.

I have not cleaned.

I have not done laundry.

I can't even remember if I brushed my hair, though I distinctly remember taking a shower and pulling it back.

My husband is leaving tomorrow. He may come back as a committed US Soldier.

So I could not care less if the laundry is done.

Or the house is clean.

All I care about at this point in time is absorbing all of John that I can while he is here by my side. While I can still hear him breathe as we fall asleep together at night. While I can still feel his strong arm's around me and the beat of his heart while we cuddle up to a movie. I feel like my breath is being taken from me. The mundane details will have to wait.

Nothing Quite Like Early-Morning Surfing

Okay, so it is quiet, The alarm has not gone off yet, and I am doing some research into what my husband will be asked to do over the course of the next months/ days/ years/ whatever.

Some interesting stuff on Warrior Transition Course:

And on Combat Medic, errr 68W Healthcare Specialist Training:

Apparently his training will only be 16 weeks, plus the 4 weeks or so for the Warrior Transition Course. Not too bad, actually. I am pleasantly surprised.


I was awakened by two different things this morning, both of which are extremely aggravating.

The first was this awful dream I had about John and the military. He had reenlisted, gone through the Warrior Transition Course, as planned, and was almost finished with AIT when he called me and said he had gotten orders to ship to Afghanistan. So I was going to have to go without seeing him for two whole years.
But then I hear this shrill screaming outside our apartment. It was 0230 on a school night! I was worried it would wake Evan. It didn't seem to be a "help me" sort of scream, but rather a we-are-morons variety of scream. I waited for it to stop, and when it did not, I went outside to check. This may have been a mistake, seeing as I am blind as a bat when it is not dark or in the middle of the night when I am half asleep. But then I stumble my groggy arse out without glasses. I think I cussed out someone I did not know. I still have no idea who it was. I hope it was not a neighbor I am friendly with. I guess I won't be anymore if it was.

So now I am sitting here, fully awake. I have been since 0300. It is now 0542, and I have already brewed coffee, had a cup and getting ready to fill 'er up a second time. I have managed to eat breakfast ( mmmmmm, Cheerios) and get my morning supply of nicotine. Lets' start the day!


Wisdom in A Kid's Flick

"Your life is an occasion. Live up to it!"
This is from Mr. Magorium's Wonder Emporium. My son has made us watch it over and over, and I must admit, it is my favorite children's movie. I loved this quote.

Sunday, May 25, 2008

We Need To Remember....

Memorial Day is not about Barbecues, drinking, pool openings, or long weekends. Those things have become habit for almost all of us, I am sure. The intent of this weekend is to remember those we have lost, to visit their memories and remember that they died so that all of us could enjoy the freedoms we do each and every day.
I was walking into Wal-Mart the other day to purchase something (milk, I think) and was confronted by a sign hanging by the entrance that said "Put some flowers on a veteran's grave this weekend!" Well, this upset me. I got teary-eyed in the middle of the store, thinking of my veteran husband and what he is about to do for us.

You see, I am selfish. I do not want the folded flag, the Purple Heart, the Medal of Honor. I want my husband to return safely to me, free of injury. I realize he is risking his life, but I refuse to actually believe that it is possible for him to be hurt. He will return to me. Unharmed.

This provoked thought of all of those American families who lost loved ones. For all for us. They thought their husbands, sons, brothers, sisters, mothers, cousins, friends would all return to them also. Unharmed. They did not. They returned wounded, disabled, both physically and psychologically. Or their bodies came home while their souls went on. This is what Memorial Day is about. This, and only this.

Our First Night Away From Each Other

John's recruiter called a few days ago. He is picking John up and taking him to MEPS for his physical on Wednesday night of this coming week. He'll spend the night in a hotel and come home on Thursday evening after a day there This is normally where the swearing in takes place, and the official contract is signed. John's waiver is still in the process of being approved, so I don't know if he will be taking part in this portion of the process. They could wait on the waiver. Then again, they could have him go through it, so that when the waiver is finished, he will be ready to go.
Either way I am sad. We have been going through this reenlistment process for so long, and now we are finally here. He's within body standards. The paperwork is all completed, and the deal is all but finished. MEPS was the last gray area, and that is being covered this week. Almost done.

Saturday, May 24, 2008


I am about to reach a breaking point in my life. We all have these, and we find them out eventually. What is our limit? Do any of us truly know? Or can we just pile it on until we feel our spines snap?
This leads me to think. I have been in some stressful situations in my life, and I keep thinking I am going to reach the point mentioned above. Funny thing is, I never have. It makes me wonder if that point really and truly exists in us all. I mean, maybe there is no breaking involved. Maybe we just bend. Which would completely explain the cheesy and cliche "I bend, but I do not break." Is that me? Gads, I hope not. If there is anything I cannot stand, it is to be cliche.

Wednesday, May 21, 2008

More News

John's waiver was submitted, but we spoke to the recruiter yesterday about getting less specific documentation to ensure it will go through. She also said it will be "highly likely" that he will get the 64W MOS. Combat Medic. He really wanted to do x-ray, but she said it isn't likely with his prior service status. He is sort of disappointed about that, but other than that, things are looking pretty good for him right now. I am starting to adapt to the idea, but I am still having episodes where I am worried and very, very sad. We are starting to plan our lives around the idea that he will be active duty before long. The good thing is that 68W will be a significantly longer AIT than just infantry. This will be six weeks and 6 months, back to back.Much, much better than just a few weeks. It will give me a better chance to adapt to the lifestyle a little bit. And get used to him being away, though I do not expect it to be the same as it would be if he were in a combat zone for a year.

Tuesday, May 20, 2008

How Good Is This?

John and I were arguing earlier about his lack of productivity. I have been doing laundry all day while he lays on the sofa. Well I was getting ready to get up and cook dinner when he said "No, you worked on the house all day! I'll cook dinner!"
So now, instead of cooking, I am sitting here updating my blog. Sweet.

Monday, May 19, 2008

We're back home after a trip to Kentucky. We took John's car, and I had not realized how accustomed I had become to my own car until I took the 4 hour ride in his. So uncomfortable! Thank goodness Evan slept most of the way, each way, or the trip would have been even more intolerable.
I interviewed for a position while down there, and it seems favorable. It would have a very nice schedule associated with it (Read: No more 12-hour weekend nights). I'm keeping my fingers crossed. The plan is, if offered the position, to relocate so we could be closer to John's family. That way, should he get the MOS he wants in the Army and has 54 weeks of AIT, I could stay and work, all while having relatives close to help with Evan. Who knows, though? I am most likely giving this all too much thought.

Friday, May 16, 2008

One Step Closer

We got a call this past Monday that the commanding officer for the company needed to meet with John regarding his waiver, and that afternoon was the only day he had free. So as soon as Evan was home from school, all three of us rushed to Indianapolis to meet with him. It was very intimidating. We ended up on this old military installation filled to the brim with beautiful old buildings, all immaculately kept. Every single one of them was named after a general.

As we were led by John's recruiter up some stairs to cut through some offices, Evan got scared and asked if I would hold his hand. I think this was mostly because it was later in the day and the lights were dimmed throughout much of the building. Right about the time he said this, I looked up and noticed "U.S. Marines" on the wall in huge brass letters. I looked down at him and told him we were most likely in one of the safest buildings in the country. Ha!

But anyhow....The CO was a really nice guy. He made us feel at ease. He had the whole family come into his office, and it was really informal. He said he would be glad to sign off on the waiver, that he was ready to "get this done". So that part is over. Now the waiver will go to the desk of a general we will not meet, and John's future in the military will rest in his hands.

Wednesday, May 14, 2008

Yada Yada Yada

Okay, so why the cupcakes? Because I am hungry, slightly intoxicated, and have food on the brain. I am also very tired, as it is 2 AM and I am sitting here on the computer for the first time in about a week. So.... I felt like I should blog something, even when I have nothing to say. It would seem that my son and husband, through their downloading without abandon, managed to destroy a laptop. I went to bed last Thursday, and woke up the next morning to a fried hard drive. Kaput! But thanks to the help of some good friends, I am back on line.

Thursday, May 8, 2008

Could It Be?

John got a call from the recruiter yesterday. He said he will be calling on Monday morning at 0900 to set up an meeting between John and the Batallion Commander regarding the waiver. I was completely unaware that the Batallion cammander would be the one to approve the waiver. Apparently all that is between John now is a physical and a signature from this man he is to meet. It's very exciting and positive news and yet it also has that fear factor in there. This may be it. The main topic of this blog may change from the process of reenlistment to the pratice of being a military wife.

There has been much speculation about this meeting in the past 24 hours. We are wondering if the waiver will be granted on the condition that John deploys. If that is the case, he said he would still do it, with absolutely no hesitation. It worries me and causes some sadness. I didn't really want him to say that he wouldn't, but I wanted at least a small amount of hesitation. To show he is thinking of us, the ones who will be left here at home to miss him and worry about him constantly.


The other day, someone in an online community to which I belong asked this question: What makes your relationship so great? I made a reply immediatel, of course. The same superficial answer everyone gives: We love each other. Ever since the question was asked, however, I have been contemplatin what my answer should have been. It is not easy to sum up a relationship that has consumed the better part of a decade of one's life. We are not the same people who took the plunge all those years ago. Many people seeking divorces will claim that their spouse has "changed" over the years. Well...Yes, I should hope he or she has changed in some capacity. The events of our lives leave a mark on us whether we with for them to or not. Lessons are learned. Wounds heal and scars form in their place. Some of the things that have happened in the time we have been together have left a sort of stamp on us. Some is for the better and some is not. Regardless, after all of these changes have taken place it is hard to wrap up into a neat, concise statement what it is that makes John and I so special together.

I can say that to the average onlooker, our relationship would seem troubled. Pardon the cliche, but we fight like cats and dogs. This man has within him the ability to upset me more than anyone else ever has been able. He simply gets under my skin, knowing exactly which buttons to press. This is only the case because, at times, I believe he knows me better than I know myself. He sees all there is of me.

I don't see the arguments as a weakness like most would. In spite of them, we are fiercely loyal to one another. And we love each other madly, almost to the point that sanity is thrown right out the window. I cannot speak for John, but I can say that he has a large piece of me that will always be his. Whatever happens to us, wherever we go, he will have this.

But back to the original topic: Why are we so special? I can certainly tell you it has nothing to do with sunshine and roses. Someone looking to marriage as a source of all things romantic will either be perpetually disappointed or setting themselves up for failure. There is a small amount of romance, but most of a lifetime together is wrapped up in the triviality of day-to-day life. The secret is to find those seemingly trivial bits that connect you as a couple. For John and I, there are many.

Almost eight years has been composed of the little moments that have bonded us tighter as more and more time passes. If this were a movie, this would be the part where a montage plays to moving music. But this ain't no movie. This is indeed my life. So here you have it: The kaleidoscope of what makes us so special....

Scrambled egg pie and the infamous trip to the grocery store. I lo-uhhhhhhhh! Backrubs. "Marry me and put this on your finger". Cake up the nose. Two pink lines instead of one. Suviving preterm labor and hospitalizations. Hearing that first cry together. His first step/ first word/ first everything. Belting out "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy". I love you more. Wrestling matches. Junky cars and crappy apartments. The speed at which he can load a truck alone. Those eyes. That smile. That life. Crying on the baby's first day of school. Hearing "That's my WIFE" when my name was called at graduation. His hand on the small of my back when we dance in the kitchen to no music. The way our hands fit together. The solidity of him when I need a rock. The softness of him when I need to cuddle. The way his eyes have started to crinkle in the corners when he smiles and gray hairs have turned up on my head. Dreaming together. The softness of his breath when he sleeps. Being able to draw a map of the freckles on his shoulders. Giggling over bad movies and funny faces. Making fun of ourselves and each other. Laughter. Reading bedtime stories together. The sense of forever.

Monday, May 5, 2008

I'll Be Damned! Not MY Husband!

There is absolutely no excuse for this. I should not have to go into detail on this one. Completely disgusting.

Who? Me???

OKay, last night, it was a little later than I normally allow Evan to stay up. But he seemed to be having trouble winding down for bed, and since it was not a school night...

I decided we were going to play for a while. Well here is the thing. Evan has been collecting those die-cast Cars movie cars. He almost has all of them, except that they came out with more. Let me just say that his collection was not easy to build. Most stores carry the main characters. So anytime we were away from home for whatever reason, I would look at stoes to see if they had different ones. So we have built that collection a car at a time. There are now about 30 characters. And I take it personally when they come up missing. So while in his room, we notice some are gone. I went into his playroom to look...
Oh. My. God. I could not even open the door. His playroom is just that: HIS PLAYROOM. It is stuffed to the maximum capacity with any toy a little boy could possibly want. About once a week, we go in there and reorganize, dust and vacuum. The rest of the week, it remains Evan's little area where he can be sloppy and play without betting barked at by adults. That is the point of the room. I was just in there 2 days before. It was spotless.
So I pull Evan out of his bedroom and force him to help me clean the room so toys don't get broken by being stepped upon. And the entire time, he is blaming the mess on his little fiend that comes over to play. As in SHE did it all.
It would have been possible if I would not have stopped anf thought about his remarks. I cleaned it Friday. Well, John and I did. But he was grounded Friday afternoon because his father was displeased with the way he was treating the belongings that cost so much money. Plus he had gotten mouthy with his father whle outside playing. So there have been no children in the house since the room was cleaned.
So when did my baby learn to lie and blame his actions on others? I don't like it one bit!

Still Waiting

Grrrrr. Stupid Waiver!

We are still waiting for word on whether John's waiver has gone through. It is driving me crazy waiting for the other shoe to drop. Is he going in? Is he staying home? Do I need to really start a new job around here, or are we moving to God-Knows-Where, USA? And he is losing his motivation, so I am having to fight the daily struggle of keeping him on task. I am drained. I am ready to either get on with this reenlistment thing or end this chapter in our life.

Sunday, May 4, 2008

Code Moron

Is there any wonder why I have a problem with these morons? This is kind of old news, but John and I stumbled upon this video on You Tube yesterday afternoon, and I have not been able to get it out of my head. I thought about blogging about this long and hard, because I do not want to give tham any more of an audience for their idiotic ideas and notions.
But apparently, my husband is a war criminal, according to them. This all stemmed from the Marine Corps Recruiting office in Berkely, California. They feel that the recruiter should not be in their town. That they are war mongers and are there solely to corrupt the young people of the community. City officials actually agreed with them, and went so far to state that the Marine Corps is unwelcome, and if they choose to stay there, are doing so as uninvited guests.
Berkely does not want our Marines present? Marines are war criminals? Then perhaps the morons in Berkely and these Code Pink bitches don't deserve the very liberties our Beloved Marine Corps provides us all as Americans. It makes me ashamed to be female. And I love the color pink, but now I am tempted to ban the color from any aspect of my life. It's a shame, really.
To be able to say one disagrees with the war is a right we have in our country. But to attempt to impede any branch of the Armed Forces from recruiting? That is, in my opinion, the equivalent of saying that we should not have a military at all. To say we should not have a military at all brings the word "anarchy" to mind. Without our men and women in uniform, and the cajones to put them into action, we might as well form the U.S. into an enormous target. Is this what these women want???
I never pictured myself to be so blindly patriotic that I could not identify the flaws in our system, in our government. I have that right. My husband put his arse on the line to allow that. But I would never dream to insult our heroes. I would support their efforts and presence in my community.
In a way I feel sorry for these women. Are they really so ignorant that they don't realize that the reason they are able to sleep peacefully at night is because somewhere there is a Marine standing guard?
Shame on you Code Pink. Shame on you Berkely. You do NOT deserve my husband.