The Handprints They Leave

My boys, that is. Let me explain. I firmly believe that the people that come and go from our lives leave evidence that they were there in their wake. Some leave us smiling, and some leave us crying. Some stay longer than others. We are born alone, and we surround ourselves with others throughout our life, and we cannot take them with us when we go.

As I flit around from class to class, campus to campus, to work and to home and back again, the evidence my John and Evan leave behind is hard to miss. I spent the largest part of my day infuriated yesterday. You see, I stopped at a carwash to clean the salt grime that winter driving leaves on a car. And I thought to myself, "Self, why don't you vacuum it out while you're here. It will save you the hassle of tangled extension cords and a cumbersome Kirby being dragged to the curb at home." So I did. And for the first time, in the glaring light of day, I actually looked at my car. (Since John's car died a while back, he has mainly been driving my car and chaufferring me to the places I need to go.) What I found pissed me off beyond belief. Scuffs from gym shoes on the backs of the seats. French fries under the floor mats in the backseat. Dirt everywhere. What was supposed to be a quick stop turned into a 2-hour cleaning frenzy. Let me remind you that this car was brand spanking new in September. A 2009. The first new car I have ever purchased for myself. I was livid, and the boys got quite the lecture about respecting the things we own. I even broke down $20,000 to Evan in his terms, explaing that I could buy x amount of Webkinz for the price of the car, thinking maybe he would realize just how expensive automobiles are, and would respect the car a little more.

So I go back to class, and am a little early. I whip out my MP3 player from my backpack and am going to listen to some tunage while I am reviewing my notes for our quiz in biology. No music. What???? Why does it not work? The battery is charged, but it keeps trying to reboot itself. I try to remember the last time I used it. Or the last time it was used, period. And I flashback to a vision of little Evan wearing it and be-bopping around the house with it. He has his own, but mine has more memory, and thus more songs. Now I need a new MP3 player.

There is evidence all over the place that the boys are here. A discarded pile of school uniforms in the laundry room, holes in the knees of the pants or stains on the shirts (Pant: $45/pair, Shirts: $25/ each). Piles of shoes that are not outgrown, but simply worn out because they don't treat them well (I don't buy them the cheapies, either). Dirty dishes piled on the counter. Litlle pastel colored Post-It's all over my desk because the little one thinks they are "make-your-own" stickers. Money missing from my purse because someone, at some time, removed it for something they needed. It would seem that my boys don't leave handprints. They leave a path of destruction.

But wait...

This is the same little boy who came up to me early this morning and hugged my neck, telling me how I am the best Mommy he has ever had (LOL!). The one who gives me sloppy kisses on the cheek and presents to me Crayola masterpieces and macaroni sculptures, that I accept with such glee that you would be convinced that they are from Van Gogh. The one whose rendition of "Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star" would have given Beethoven a run for his money.

This is the man who looks deep into my eyes and tells me how convinced he is that I can do this when I am doubting myself the most. The one who kept his hand on my leg and wore lead the entire time I was getting head scans done for a brain tumor, just to assure me that he was there, that he was not leaving me. The one who cried with me when the doctors told me to consider aborting our child who was sure to be too premature to survive.

My life with these boys is messy. And expensive.That's a definite. Yes, they leave paths of destruction through it all. I wouldn't trade any of it for the world, truth be told. These are all such small prices for the joy they can bring to my life.

Working on a Decade

Yes, I know this is a terrible pic of me, but when we are working at being parents, one of us is always behind the camera, and thus this is a rare shot of us together.

8 Years Together. For the couple who married exactly 3 months after they met. For the ones who were completely insane. For the couple who was "not going to make it".

So this is John. He is my best friend. The love of my life. The one who can make me laugh in spite of myself and everything else that has gone on in my life. The one who supports my dreams and my goals and ambitions like no other. The one who understands me at times when it seems like no one else in the world is able to. He is the one who made me believe in marriage in a world full of couples who just cannot make it. My partner in this fine mess we call life. He is my angel, my hero, by biggest weakness. He is the only one in my life with the power to get under my skin and infuriate me within seconds, then turn around and make me feel so loved and supported and enamored at the snap of a finger. To date, he has been the only one who could take the tough-talking, no-nonsense city girl and turn her into the one who wants to abandon everything and get married, have a child, be a family. Later, he was the one to show me that despite what others say, I actually can have everything I want in life: the child, the marriage, the career, the education. He is still the only one.

This morning, he met me after work in the hospital cafeteria in an effort to have breakfast together before I went to bed for the day. He was sitting in the cafeteria, alone at a table, watching for me to come through the door. I came through the entrance on the other side, and could not see him. I turned the corner, and saw him sitting there quietly, waiting for me. In that instant that I saw him there, my heart skipped a beat. In the instant that followed, I was in awe that the sight of him can still have that effect on me after all of these years. And in that small moment, after a stressful night working the ICUs, I was home. I was safe, and nothing could touch me.

Now, as I pause at the keyboard, I am having trouble coming up with the words to express what I want to say. For the first time in my life, I am speechless. As the yaers have passed, we have changed. Both of us. But when I look at him, I still see the cute guy with the nice butt walking through the Party Source while our friend Dawn said "That's him. That's my friend John I want you to meet." He is still the sweet guy who made the trip home after meeting me, in the rain on a motorcycle. The one who stopped under a bridge to call me halfway through the trip to let me know that it would take him longer to get home than planned and to not worry when he didn't call. He is still the one who made me laugh with his cute southern accent (the years have caused it to fade for my ears because I am so used to it.) He is the only one who could get me on a ATV, riding on the back, laughing madly and completely trusting him to keep me safe. He is still the lovable dork who, when dressing to go into the OR when I had Evan, actually wore orange and blue polka dotted boxers beneath the pale blue scrubs. I can still hear the nurses' giggles. Can still hear him shouting "That's my BOY!" when we found out Evan's gender, despite the fact that he had told me he wanted a girl because I did. Or him shouting "That's my wife!" when I graduated from college and walked across the stage.

It's really strange. I cannot define the past eight years with a concise list of events. Our time together is more a tapestry of little moments. Happy, sad, beautiful, messy moments.

That Time of Year

Christmas is just a matter of a couple of weeks away now. Most people think of snow and presents and religious figures. I think of John.

Christmas Eve will be our 8-year Anniversary. I cannot recall, other than the night we were actually married, in 2000, a single time when we have celebrated this occasion. We are always too busy playing Santa for Evan, who was born nine months after we married. Our acknowledgment of this day is always a quick kiss and a "Happy Anniversary". Christmas for a child is a magical time, even more so for the parents who love them so dearly, and we have always been too wrapped up in that to take away from it by celebrating anything else. But it does not mean that I do not think about it, about how special it is.

The other night, a colleague of mine asked me about John. They know of his struggles to find work but that is all. She asked me if I was truly in love with him. This got the gears in my head turning. I don't have to think about the answer to that. I am as in love with this man now as I was the day I married him. But for her to ask that question now, of all of the times out of the year, when my mind is raw with thoughts of John...

I did not know everything about my John when we married. I only knew that I loved him and wanted to be with him after only three months together. I have always considered us an exception to some rule about marriage: the ones who married quickly. There was a time where I wondered if we married too quickly. I have always stopped myself with the reminder that no amount of dating could teach you everything about a person. There are just some things you have to learn the hard way, by living day in and day out at someone's side. This has been the case with us.

Does John have his flaws? Absolutely, as do I. But John has some amazing qualities that go unmentioned, or not mentioned enough. One of my imperfections as a wife is that I get so caught up with my work, responsibilities, being a Mom, and my education and goals that I fail to remind him enough of what he means to me. What are some of those qualities? He can have days where he is completely selfless. He has the biggest heart of anyone I know. He is a great father to our son. He's smart and capable, and tough as nails. He is always there for me.

Did you know that each and everyday I return home from work, and my feet feel like they are breaking, he will sit and massage my feet until I fall asleep. If I am thirsty, I say so and he brings me something to drink without my even asking. If I am cold, I say the word and I am wrapped in a blanket. Right now, if I wanted to, I could go nudge him from his sleep and tell him I can't sleep, and he would stay awake for as long as it took, playing with my hair until I dozed off. Nowadays, this is worth more than diamonds and flowers and romantic getaways. He takes care of me more than even I realize.

Yes, I am in love with John. He and Evan make up my whole world. I don't need my career or my education, or anything else, in sight of losing either of them. I would give up everything for them, for him. The beauty of our life together is that I don't have to. He is my partner, so that my success is really our success.

I am a proud, headstrong person. I like to think I am tough and independent, but the truth is that I am not. I honestly do not think I could do any of what I do without John. It is not widely known, but John is the reason I have my career today, the reason I am able to approach my whole dream of becoming a doctor. Several years ago, he was in school and I was not. He was having some trouble, and asked me to go with him to meet the Dean of Academic Affairs. I went along, only to find out that he was meeting with her to talk to her about getting me back in college after surrendering my higher education almost a decade earlier when my mother died. I had always wanted to, and didn't think I could. John took me around, from the Dean's office, to the admissions office, and more. I left that day enrolled in courses that started 2 weeks from that date. After his help in making that first step, I realized that my dream of being a physician never really left me. I have been at it ever since. And when I was recognized at commencement, when getting my degree in respiratory therapy, it was his voice I heard cheering for me the loudest. When I was scared to death of my credentialing exams, he waited for me outside of the testing center, in the car, in 100 degree heat, until I was finished and had the piece of paper in my hand saying I had passed each and every exam. I honestly could not imagine finishing pre-med or Med School without seeing his face.

I am so blessed to get to spend my time here on Earth with a man who loves me. I get to laugh and cry and cheer with him over life's moments each and every day. I get to see him change, to evolve as a person. With each passing Christmas season, though we do not celebrate it, I can bask in the knowledge that we are closer as a couple, that we have managed another year together in a time when marriage is disposable. That is enough for me.

I Love My Husband No. 3

Since I am procrastinating on the packing a bit more, and I have that sentimental mood going, I thought I should take a minute to tell you about my John.
John and I met, and within one weekend, I was falling in love with him. He has a heart unlike any other. He made me laugh at a time I did not think possible to do so. And those eyes. He has eyes that smile when he does.
So what happened? You know we were eventually married. But I don't think either of us expected us to be engaged within a month of meeting. We surprised everyone yet again when we decided to just do it. We got married 3 months after we met. Could we have possibly known everything about each other in that short a time frame? No, absolutely not. But I knew enough to know that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with this man. We were married in front of his mother's Christmas tree on Christmas Eve, 2000.
We are not the perfect couple. This man can get under my skin in a way noone else can. But noone else gets me like he does. Noone else makes me laugh as loud, cry as hard, live as much. But regardless of what comes our way and how difficult life gets, we both know that we are stronger together than either of us could be apart. I honestly cannot picture life without him by my side.

A Goodbye Post

So much has happened. A brain tumor resulting a lost job and a lot of turmoil. Financial ruin. 3 crashed computers. And we almost lost it all.

So what happened to me? Why did I disappear?
Well, after the 3rd crash, I could not get a new system due to financial resources. I applied for every job I could and got the same response." Why should we hire you? You got fired from the only RT job you have had?" Because my employer broke labor laws by kicking me while I was down and terminated me while on FMLA for a brain tumor? Nope, not good enough.
I was just about to give up. As a matter of fact, I had started to call temp agencies and see if they had any clerical positions available in the area. Anything for money. We were on the brink of losing everything. Then I just made a call to a hospital I knew about from living in Greater Cincinnati. I asked if they were hiring and they said yes, that they desperately needed therapists. I didn't even fill out an application or send a resume. I did those things after my interview. A week later, I was not only employed, but employed at a better facility with a more challenging environment.
Now? I love my job. I have just completed the six weeks of departmental orientation they make clinical personnel complete to ensure I know what I am doing. Professional respect is automatic because of the credentials I carry. It is a difference like night and day.
I just purchased a new computer and a new SUV. A Dell with enough memory that I do not need to worry about crashes, and a Ford Explorer, respectively.
What is going on with my husband? Well that is a long story. He never did hear the results of the waiver for reenlistment into the Army. The recruiter dropped the ball, and when John, after months of no results, finally went over his head, the recruiter got upset and stopped working on it for him.
Evan? Well, the kid just started 1st grade. He is doing wonderfully with the academic nature of the work. He had outgrown crayon drawings and baby books a long time ago. Each paper he brings home, from math to English, to spelling, are all perfect. He is still my pride and joy, my soft spot, my biggest downfall, and the source of those white hairs that keep popping up on my head.

And we are moving. From the time John and I left Cincinnati, in 2000, I have wanted to go back. It's home. It will always be home. We've lived in Southern Kentucky, and we have lived in Southeastern, Indiana. I have given each of those places my all. But they are not where I belong. And John and Evan...well, they belong with me. For the first time in a long time, I am at a place where I have the ability to go back home. I was afraid to try it before. John and I know that city life can be cruel. If something were to happen and we were to need help, there is no place to turn. But we have been battered and bruised by the other places we have been, also. And we made it through. Together, without anyone else. So we are going to go back to Cincinnati, together. This time around I have an awesome job, and things will be different. I want to see the city lights reflecting in my son's eyes. I want him to grow up with museums, zoos, libraries at his fingertips, and cultural diversity all around him. I want the place that has been a part of me all of my life to become a part of who he is also.

So why is this goodbye? When I started Constant Upheaval, it was my way to cope with the idea of my husband going back to the military after being married all of these years. This was my way to vent and speak about what was going on in my life without my words, views, and emotions influencing the decisions John had to make for himself. I no longer need that outlet. Is the military out of our life for good? Never. First of all, the Marine in John is as much a part of him as Cincinnati is of me. I can do away with that no more than the fact that he is a little older than me or that he has brown eyes. And I am so proud of him. Of all of the work he put into reenlistment. I have never seen him work so hard since the first time I laid eyes on him 8 years ago. And I have new respect for his status as a veteran. My husband served his country, and served her very well.
I also have more respect for the military families out there. I can honestly say that through the involvement with various support websites, I got a glimpse into the life of a wife of a service member. I just did so with my husband by my side. I will never do these women the disservice of saying that I know what it is like to wonder if your loved one is even alive while thousands of miles away in a war zone. I didn't live through that. That experience is their way of serving their country. But I did worry about John's future safety, knowing he was making a career choice that could result in his death. These men and women of our Armed Forces will forever be in my hearts. They have truly been the most amazing people I have met.
There may come a day when I am a service member myself. Before John said the words, "Andi, I want back in. I want to do my part in this war.", I was toying with the idea of a commission in the Navy to be a physician. There are some very impressive programs out there that are hard to pass up. But I also have opportunities to do that as a civilian. So when John told me what his goal was, I gladly stepped away from that so he could go after what he wanted. Now, I have the ability to do it again, and I just might. This would be off in the distance. I have to get myself in shape, take my MCAT and finish my biochemistry degree first. Would I want to do it? Yes, now more than ever. I have met the families of our military, and I can think of nothing more noble than taking care of these men and women.

I never did know if I had any readers here on Constant Upheaval. Whne the new computer was set up in the house, I was eager to get back to blogging, but it had been so long that I had forgotten my email and password I used to set up the account. On the old computers, it was set to automatically sign me in when I told it to. I thought my blog was lost forever, and so I started a new blog. Then I remembered the password, but the new blog was already in the works. Which one should I keep and which one should I close? I had a dilemma. But then I thought about it. Constant Upheaval is set up as a milblog. It just did not seem appropriate to continue now that John is not reenlisting. Plus, with the changes in my life, it seemed more fitting to start anew. If, and I mean a big IF, I have any readers or followers, the new blog is called Bending and Not Breaking, and I hope to see you there.
Otherwise... Goodbye, Friend.

I Love My Husband No. 2

Never, not once, has he left or entered the house without giving me a kiss and telling me he loves me. Never! This is so much of a habit that it has rubbed off on Evan and Evan does the same thing. There is nothing like starting your day like that.

I Am Not the Maid...

But I sure feel like one right about now. There is laundry in one enormous pile in the kitchen. There are dishes piled in the sink. There is general filth spread all over the house, and how sad is it that I can only motivate myself to focus only on the areas which are highly visible?

Why is there a collection of shoes by the front door? Do we not all have closets in this house? Why is the laundry I have had done for days still stacked/ hung in the laundry room?

What did my husband do all weekend while I was working my arse off?

I swear John is gonna get it when he gets home!

I Love my Husband No. 1

I love my husband because all I have to say is that "I am craving chocolate." and he brings me ice cream covered in chocolate sauce. When I try to protest, explaining about my diet and training, he tells me it is okay, that just this once, I can splurge.

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.

Pensive

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.