When I met my husband, I was 22...still young by most peoples standards. But I had a daughter...I had been through trials and tribulations already. I knew a thing or two about life. I knew how to decide who to trust...what was important in life...and for the most part, what I wanted out of life. When I met my husband, I never thought about being an army wife. In fact, the one guy that I had dated who was in the army completely turned me off to ALL military guys.
When I met my husband, I met him outside of a bar, on a Saturday night, where I was hanging out with my ex boss and my cousin. I introduced myself to him. (Not the other way around). I hit on him. (But he did pay for the drinks...and "breakfast"...and the hotel room...but whatever)
When I met my husband, one of the FIRST things he said to me was; "I'm in the Army...I'm going to be getting deployed sometime in the next year."
There were a few things I didn't remember about that night, but that was one that I did remember. I remember the next couple days, and talking to him via text, and on the phone, and I remember thinking, 'why would anyone ever put themselves in that position?' My uncle has been in the army as long as I can remember. He just recently returned home from his third deployment. His wife got years and years with him before his first one. But I remember that...why would a woman, or a man for that matter, put herself into a position like that?
Less than two months later, with his co-workers as his witnesses (none of his family), and my family present, we got married. I soon learned WHY someone would put themselves into a position where the person that they love has to leave them...because they love them. I didn't marry Bradley because he was in the army, or because of his car, or how much money he makes (though, at first I totally had the hots for him because of the car....joking! joking!). I married him because of how I feel when I'm around him...and how much I care about him. I married him KNOWING that the army came first in his life -- not second, third, fourth, or fifth...and that nothing else could hold a candle to the importance of the army in his life. Okay, that parts not true...I'm pretty sure that we're all more important than the army -- or at least I'd like to think so.
I can't bring myself to sugar coat deployments and training. It fucking sucks. There were days when I couldn't do anything buy just try not to cry when Bradley was deployed, especially in the beginning. That was all I would do all day was hope that I didn't cry. I, like a lot of wives, tried to be the "super wife". I was mom, dad, wife, husband, best friend....everything to everyone. Training was a little different than a deployment. That was usually in the states -- and if he was gone long enough, I could visit.
What I can't possibly understand is how women (or men) can get angry at either their spouses or the military. This is THEIR JOB. This is what they signed up for, most of the time, before they MET their significant other. Bradley was in the army...5-6 years before he met me! Yes, I can be upset that he has to leave...I can be sad. How could you not? The only reason you wouldn't be sad or upset is if you didn't give a shit, and I give a shit. But I can't fault my husband for doing his job. That's like marrying a cop and getting pissed off at him/her that they have to go to work at 2am. Its ridiculous! We may all not believe in the government, or the war, or whatever, but that doesn't mean that the entire world is going to stop and do whatever the fuck you want it to do. To a certain extent, its true when people say that the government doesn't care about military families. It isn't their JOB TO CARE ABOUT US! They didn't invest their time and money in these soldiers to care. The army wasn't made to make sure that men or women had their spouses home. The army was made to protect the citizens of the United States (whether we believe in a war or not).
I love my husband. I love that he is at least passionate about what he does to continue to do it. I love that he can provide for himself and our family. I couldn't possibly stand in the way of what he does or needs to do. I hate it. I hate that he has to be gone. I hate that he can't be with me every single day, and fall asleep with me every single night...but the difference between me, and a lot of other military wives is that I get it. I understand it. I don't much like it, but I'm okay with it. And I'm so so so proud of him for the sacrifices he makes. And I know he's proud of me too. And in the end, all I ask is that he comes home safe and sound, that I don't go too crazy without him, and that at the end of the day we love each other. That's all I can hope for.
<3
27 January, 2010
26 January, 2010
swearing and children
I know for a fact I'm not the only one who thinks its funny when kids swear...especially when they let out "fuck" or "douchebag". I happen to think it is hilarious. When Bradford and I got married, Reilly became his daughter. He's been in her life since she was a year and a half, and barely putting words together. So in the last couple years (minus the 7 months he was deployed), we've both gotten to listen to her expand her language skills.
Now, I'll be the first to admit -- I have the mouth of a sailor. Sure, I tone it down for my parents and my in-laws, but other than that, I really don't care who hears me, or what situation I'm in, or where I'm at. I'm not sure why, but frankly, I think they are just words. Now, there are words that I use VERY rarely, or never, but those are typical for being a white woman. Cunt is one of those words that I very rarely say -- just because I think it is ridiculously trashy. Only a few people in my life have ever had the privilege to be called that by me...and they probably don't even know it. But, I use every other word in the dictionary, and then some I'm sure. And, of course, since I have this horrible mouth, my daughter gets the brunt of my language for the most part. When the dog pisses me off, and she asks me whats wrong, I tell her that the dog is pissing me off. When some guy is being a fucking asshole on the road, and she asks me whats wrong, I tell her that some guy is being a fucking asshole and needs to learn how to drive.
Now -- lets side step real quick because I feel I need to make this clear. My daughter is one fucking smart cookie. She has a brain the size of a watermelon. She's a smart fucking kid for almost 4, and she's been like that as long as I can remember. She knows whats up, she knows what she wants...hell, she knows words that I didn't even think she could know how to say (or even know what they mean) but she does.
As her parents, Bradford and I have decided that we don't really give a rats ass if she swears.
BUT there are rules. Of course. She doesn't swear out of the house, and if she does, its not in public (ie. its in the car, not in the middle of Target or the mall). She doesn't swear in front of my (or anyone elses) parents (even though she does sometimes :/ ). She uses them in the right context instead of just running around saying them (don't worry, I'll give examples of where this has happened..because she does it). She doesn't swear AT me..or her daddy in an angry manner (no calling me a bitch, or a cunt, or her daddy an asshole...around is okay, even in anger, but never AT). She doesn't say "fuck".
Okay, that last one is a little hypocritical because I drop the f-bomb like the world is ending tomorrow, and I might be able to save the ENTIRE WORLD by how much I say the word fuck. But I digress.
So the other day, my mom was over, playing a memory card game with Reilly. It was Reilly's turn to try to get a match. Well, she didn't get one. I was sitting over at the dining room table, looking over my email, and I hear my precious, adorable, sweet three year old daughter go "aw damnit" Well played Reilly. Well played.
A couple weeks ago, Reilly and I were driving to the store. I made a "ugh" noise because I was getting frustrated. So Reilly asked me if the guy in front of us was being a douchebag. Of course I said yes, because he was (or she, I don't discriminate).
So that's my two cents about children and swearing. I don't want my kid (or kids) to be teaching their friends what a dirty sanchez is (okay, I don't even want my kids KNOWING what that one is), I don't want them running around yelling "fuck the police" until they are older...but I don't want to stop them from expressing themselves...I don't wanna have to watch my mouth around them either. I don't need to censor myself for my kids sake...they're gonna learn it eventually...and I would rather it be learned from me than the kids on the school yard. I would rather she know when and how to use swear words, and what is acceptable.
But that's just me.
<3
Now, I'll be the first to admit -- I have the mouth of a sailor. Sure, I tone it down for my parents and my in-laws, but other than that, I really don't care who hears me, or what situation I'm in, or where I'm at. I'm not sure why, but frankly, I think they are just words. Now, there are words that I use VERY rarely, or never, but those are typical for being a white woman. Cunt is one of those words that I very rarely say -- just because I think it is ridiculously trashy. Only a few people in my life have ever had the privilege to be called that by me...and they probably don't even know it. But, I use every other word in the dictionary, and then some I'm sure. And, of course, since I have this horrible mouth, my daughter gets the brunt of my language for the most part. When the dog pisses me off, and she asks me whats wrong, I tell her that the dog is pissing me off. When some guy is being a fucking asshole on the road, and she asks me whats wrong, I tell her that some guy is being a fucking asshole and needs to learn how to drive.
Now -- lets side step real quick because I feel I need to make this clear. My daughter is one fucking smart cookie. She has a brain the size of a watermelon. She's a smart fucking kid for almost 4, and she's been like that as long as I can remember. She knows whats up, she knows what she wants...hell, she knows words that I didn't even think she could know how to say (or even know what they mean) but she does.
As her parents, Bradford and I have decided that we don't really give a rats ass if she swears.
BUT there are rules. Of course. She doesn't swear out of the house, and if she does, its not in public (ie. its in the car, not in the middle of Target or the mall). She doesn't swear in front of my (or anyone elses) parents (even though she does sometimes :/ ). She uses them in the right context instead of just running around saying them (don't worry, I'll give examples of where this has happened..because she does it). She doesn't swear AT me..or her daddy in an angry manner (no calling me a bitch, or a cunt, or her daddy an asshole...around is okay, even in anger, but never AT). She doesn't say "fuck".
Okay, that last one is a little hypocritical because I drop the f-bomb like the world is ending tomorrow, and I might be able to save the ENTIRE WORLD by how much I say the word fuck. But I digress.
So the other day, my mom was over, playing a memory card game with Reilly. It was Reilly's turn to try to get a match. Well, she didn't get one. I was sitting over at the dining room table, looking over my email, and I hear my precious, adorable, sweet three year old daughter go "aw damnit" Well played Reilly. Well played.
A couple weeks ago, Reilly and I were driving to the store. I made a "ugh" noise because I was getting frustrated. So Reilly asked me if the guy in front of us was being a douchebag. Of course I said yes, because he was (or she, I don't discriminate).
So that's my two cents about children and swearing. I don't want my kid (or kids) to be teaching their friends what a dirty sanchez is (okay, I don't even want my kids KNOWING what that one is), I don't want them running around yelling "fuck the police" until they are older...but I don't want to stop them from expressing themselves...I don't wanna have to watch my mouth around them either. I don't need to censor myself for my kids sake...they're gonna learn it eventually...and I would rather it be learned from me than the kids on the school yard. I would rather she know when and how to use swear words, and what is acceptable.
But that's just me.
<3
24 January, 2010
well congratulations then
january. 17th. 2010
what could possibly be that important, other than the mundane drones of everyday stay at home mommy-hood?
well, we'll start from the beginning.
Bradford left last Friday. No, not for a deployment. Not really for training either. Just as...support I guess, would be the best way to describe it. Which..ya know, its fine. I was pretty pissed off at first because he was missing my birthday. AGAIN. For the third year in a row. Everyone says "well, you should get used to it." or "you knew what was going to happen when you got married to a guy in the military"....well fuck you guys. I think I have every right to be irritated and pissed off that he is missing my birthday. I'm not mad at HIM -- so lets make that clear. I'm mad at the SITUATION. I'm mad that I had to turn 23, 24 and 25 all without a kiss or a hug from my husband. I'm mad that what was once the most important day in the year (with a couple of exceptions of course), has now managed to dwindle its way down to say...I dunno...Presidents Day. But I digress. I was pissed. I'm over it now.
Saturday after he left, my mom came over to watch Ri and Jax so I could go run some errands by myself -- and I don't mind taking Ri with me to run errands...but Jax needs a babysitter...so, whatever.
Sunday. Should have been a normal Sunday right? Promises of eggs and bacon for breakfast, only to discover that I forgot eggs at the fucking store the day before and all the bacon was frozen -- I sat down, uncomfortably adjusted myself, I held the piece of plastic in my fingers. I placed it on the counter and stood up, getting myself comfortable again. I stayed locked in there for what seemed like forever.
one line....*no..are you fucking kidding me?! wait...just wait...somethings wrong...I know it...*
two lines....*oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck -- Brad is STILL on an airplane flying to fucking Thailand!! OH FUCK!*
Lets pause right here shall we? I have to explain something. We've been trying to get pregnant since...May 2009. I have thought I was pregnant about 5 times since then. I've been stressed out at the fact that it seemed I was unable to get pregnant. I just ended up putting it out of my head for the holidays because we had a lot going on...a trip to Ohio to see our family, and all the Christmases we had to do before we left. Before Brad left, I told him...I TOLD HIM -- watch this. I'm gonna have a positive pregnancy test AS SOON AS YOU LEAVE.
What happened?! That's EXACTLY what happened.
I had to wait THREE HOURS. Do you know how long three hours is? 180 minutes. A long, fucking time. Especially when the first person you HAVE to tell is your husband...aside from Reilly, who asked why mommy was crying.
I sent him a text message saying "Call me ASAP" and I waited. He would get the text a little while after he got off the plane...I sat down at the dining room table and stared at the computer screen. Google - how to tell your husband you are pregnant. First off....fuck all that stuff. It doesn't tell you a cute way to tell your husband who is HALF WAY ACROSS THE WORLD that you are pregnant. So, I worked with what I had.
"Hey baby! Whats so important..why did I need to call ASAP?"
"Oh...no reason really...I just wanted to see how your flight was.." (fyi, I am HORRIBLE at lying.)
"Oh...uhh..well, you said ASAP...so I figured it was something important"
"No...not really....but I mean, I've been thinking....I don't think we can go to see your parents in September like we were thinking"
"What? Why not?"
"Well...I might be in the hospital" (by this point I'm crying...I'm trying to keep my composure, but I failed)
"Uhh okay...why?"
"Why do you think?! To have a baby!!" (full on tears streaming down the face)
"Oh god are you serious?!...Are you gonna keep it?!" (thank you dear husband for that.)
The last part of the conversation was kind of a blur...he had to go get on a shuttle...I was a total mess. BUT the most important person had been told, so now I could go down the list of other important people to call...my parents, my inlaws, my best friend, my grandma. I've told a couple of very close friends...but for the most part I've kept my mouth shut. Just because I want to wait until I went to the doctor to see how far along I am. I'm skeptical about telling people before I know how far along I am...I also have this completely irrational fear that something is going to happen, and I'm going to move the wrong way, or something, and I'm going to miscarry. What else is up on my list of worries? Twins. Fuck me if I'm pregnant with twins.
Right. So. Thats how my week has been.
We are completely elated. I'm sure he's a little bummed that he has to basically enjoy the first trimester of my pregnancy half way across the world...but, whatever.
We're gonna have a baby!!!
<3
what could possibly be that important, other than the mundane drones of everyday stay at home mommy-hood?
well, we'll start from the beginning.
Bradford left last Friday. No, not for a deployment. Not really for training either. Just as...support I guess, would be the best way to describe it. Which..ya know, its fine. I was pretty pissed off at first because he was missing my birthday. AGAIN. For the third year in a row. Everyone says "well, you should get used to it." or "you knew what was going to happen when you got married to a guy in the military"....well fuck you guys. I think I have every right to be irritated and pissed off that he is missing my birthday. I'm not mad at HIM -- so lets make that clear. I'm mad at the SITUATION. I'm mad that I had to turn 23, 24 and 25 all without a kiss or a hug from my husband. I'm mad that what was once the most important day in the year (with a couple of exceptions of course), has now managed to dwindle its way down to say...I dunno...Presidents Day. But I digress. I was pissed. I'm over it now.
Saturday after he left, my mom came over to watch Ri and Jax so I could go run some errands by myself -- and I don't mind taking Ri with me to run errands...but Jax needs a babysitter...so, whatever.
Sunday. Should have been a normal Sunday right? Promises of eggs and bacon for breakfast, only to discover that I forgot eggs at the fucking store the day before and all the bacon was frozen -- I sat down, uncomfortably adjusted myself, I held the piece of plastic in my fingers. I placed it on the counter and stood up, getting myself comfortable again. I stayed locked in there for what seemed like forever.
one line....*no..are you fucking kidding me?! wait...just wait...somethings wrong...I know it...*
two lines....*oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck -- Brad is STILL on an airplane flying to fucking Thailand!! OH FUCK!*
Lets pause right here shall we? I have to explain something. We've been trying to get pregnant since...May 2009. I have thought I was pregnant about 5 times since then. I've been stressed out at the fact that it seemed I was unable to get pregnant. I just ended up putting it out of my head for the holidays because we had a lot going on...a trip to Ohio to see our family, and all the Christmases we had to do before we left. Before Brad left, I told him...I TOLD HIM -- watch this. I'm gonna have a positive pregnancy test AS SOON AS YOU LEAVE.
What happened?! That's EXACTLY what happened.
I had to wait THREE HOURS. Do you know how long three hours is? 180 minutes. A long, fucking time. Especially when the first person you HAVE to tell is your husband...aside from Reilly, who asked why mommy was crying.
I sent him a text message saying "Call me ASAP" and I waited. He would get the text a little while after he got off the plane...I sat down at the dining room table and stared at the computer screen. Google - how to tell your husband you are pregnant. First off....fuck all that stuff. It doesn't tell you a cute way to tell your husband who is HALF WAY ACROSS THE WORLD that you are pregnant. So, I worked with what I had.
"Hey baby! Whats so important..why did I need to call ASAP?"
"Oh...no reason really...I just wanted to see how your flight was.." (fyi, I am HORRIBLE at lying.)
"Oh...uhh..well, you said ASAP...so I figured it was something important"
"No...not really....but I mean, I've been thinking....I don't think we can go to see your parents in September like we were thinking"
"What? Why not?"
"Well...I might be in the hospital" (by this point I'm crying...I'm trying to keep my composure, but I failed)
"Uhh okay...why?"
"Why do you think?! To have a baby!!" (full on tears streaming down the face)
"Oh god are you serious?!...Are you gonna keep it?!" (thank you dear husband for that.)
The last part of the conversation was kind of a blur...he had to go get on a shuttle...I was a total mess. BUT the most important person had been told, so now I could go down the list of other important people to call...my parents, my inlaws, my best friend, my grandma. I've told a couple of very close friends...but for the most part I've kept my mouth shut. Just because I want to wait until I went to the doctor to see how far along I am. I'm skeptical about telling people before I know how far along I am...I also have this completely irrational fear that something is going to happen, and I'm going to move the wrong way, or something, and I'm going to miscarry. What else is up on my list of worries? Twins. Fuck me if I'm pregnant with twins.
Right. So. Thats how my week has been.
We are completely elated. I'm sure he's a little bummed that he has to basically enjoy the first trimester of my pregnancy half way across the world...but, whatever.
We're gonna have a baby!!!
<3
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