Julie Anna Infantry Wife

2011-10-29T01:08:00.000-07:00

I am still here at Fort Lewis! STILL. My husband is still going through the Med Board process. I really think he will be done soon but I have been saying that for almost two years now, so I honestly have no clue how much longer we will be here.

Things have changed so much since my husband joined the army 10 years ago. Change is just an ongoing process in the army and we all change with it without realizing it. We are both still receiving therapy and are on antidepressants, as is the rest of the army population...okay maybe not everyone. Just the ones that have been in for several years now, the ones who will actually admit when things are really screwed up. I guess the trial for the sergeant who killed the civilians in Afghanistan started today. Don't know what to think about that. He definately needs help and should get it before anyone judges him...but the army doesn't usually work that way.

I had a job last summer until I broke my foot and couldn't walk for almost four months and I haven't worked since. I recently cracked a different toe on the same foot, but at least I can kind of walk this time. I think it's because I have very little peripheral vision. It's always been this way since I was a teen and my optometrist correctly predicted that I hated video games and then told me that video games was my new homework- to try and improve my vision. My brothers were jealous. You can imagine what my husband thought when I walked into a doorframe while we were dating, and later a tree branch, and so on and so forth.

I have lost all desire to work, finish college, become a nurse. Sad, I know. I've found it's easier to just hide in my house. Not the right answer, I know but I have lived and learned and understand why so many armywives do just that. I did get a phone number from the library for a class to become a tutor for adult illiteracy here in Tacoma. I really like that idea- to help others learn how to read. I couldn't imagine not being able to read. To help make up for the lack of income I've become one of those couponers you see on TV. I get several hundred dollars a month in food and household goods with coupons. It's really fun. In a sense, I'm beating the system- in a pathetic housewife sort of way....Filling up our pantry til it's overflowing and hardly paying a penny for it. Getting ready for the Zombie Apocolypse. My daughters friend calls it the panic room. I thought that was interesting...panic room? I guess so.

The army has hired companies to come in and cut down all our precious trees on post. My girls are not happy. Why would they want to take away something so beautiful, such as these Evergreens? I don't know. I can see the helicopters as they fly overhead better now though, which is nice. Try to find the positive things in a situation, right?

Once in awhile I wish I never changed the template of this Army wife blog. I lost alot of good links to fellow bloggers and can't find them now. I still wonder what ever happened to the Unlikely Soldier. And now I know. I just looked him up online and it appears he still has a blog. Hope he keeps writing.

It appears there are many cases at Madigan of soldiers who have stacks of paperwork with diagnosis of PTSD who are going through the Med board. When they reach Forensics Psychology as part of the Medboard evaluation, the not so lovely doctors there change the PTSD diagnosis into a noncompensational diagnosis (such as 'adjustment disorder and possible malingering') to save Uncle Sam some money by not medically retiring the soldiers who should be medically retired. This has become so big that some very ImPoRtAnT people in the army world have gotten involved...finally! I wonder how many soldiers have been put out on the street without benefits they rightfully deserved and desperately needed only to end up, oh I don't know...maybe becoming homeless or committing suicide or killing thier family- all because Uncle wanted to save some money. Nevermind that without these soldiers, Uncle would have nothing.

March 4, 2011

2011-03-04T13:45:00.000-08:00

Let's see...Pilot program, 1 year so far going through med board, at least four more months to go, possibly longer.

My husband isn't thrilled with how long this is taking but I see it as a chance to save some money. We are pretty sure it will be a medical retirement, though nothing is ever set in stone. I could sit here and complain about alot of things pertaining to this whole mess, but I don't want to.

It gets harder for me to describe life on a military post. I'm so used to it I no longer know the difference between this world and the other. I feel as though I have talked about everything over the last five or six years. I've seen it all. Hmmm...I do see alot of soldiers who haven't deployed. I can tell from thier patches. At one time, not to long ago, there was nothing but soldiers who had deployed around here. Now there are alot of young faces of infantry boys who haven't gone anywhere yet. I just want to pinch thier cute little cheeks and say, "Start praying now...cuz you're gonna need it."

2010-12-29T23:17:00.000-08:00

Has it really been five months? We are still here at Fort Lewis. My husband is going through the MED board- the new pilot program, actually. He started it last February and we are still waiting. I think the last of his medical appoinments was a few weeks ago. He is now receiving Social Security disability as well.

Life has been good, for as good as our situation can be. I am more or less his secretary in most things. His memory is shot to the point if I try to have him write his appointments in a scheduler, he ends up losing the scheduler within a day or so. I keep track of everything on a giant calender in the hallway so we both can know whats going on each day.
I call him an hour before his appoinment because he won't remember he has one. I still get the phone calls from him asking me to come get him for lunch or after work, only for me to remind him that he has the car that day. I still get the occasional panicky phone call from him because he can't remember where he parked in the giant Madigan parking lot. I will calm him down, talk him through it and we usually find out he has actually parked on the oppositte side of the hospital. I usually just go with him to his appointments so I can know for myself whats going on with him medically and so we rarely 'lose' the car that way. His body, as well as his mind, is really tore up and worn down and we have been learning to live this way. I was working up until a few months ago. We honestly thought we would be out of the Army by now, but I guess the longer he's in, the more money we can save. I try to look on the brighter side of things now.

My husband and I both still get therapy. It does help, as does various medications. He takes nine pills a day for multiple reasons, I just take two. He's in constant pain, even while on the pain meds he takes, but he is learning to live with that as well. He technically should be in the Wounded Warrior Battalion, but his infantry unit is taking decent care of him so he hasn't moved over yet. I don't think he will at all, if possible, because someone told him that the Wounded Warrior unit can keep him in the Army past his Med board if they think he needs more treatment and he does not want that. He wants to be treated outside the Army because sometimes just getting away from all this is the best treatment of all.

I am in the process of sending out nursing school applications, hopefully for next fall. I was working as a CNA until I broke my foot a few months back. Now I just hobble around, only dreaming of the day when I can wear a normal shoe on my right foot again. All my left shoes are getting worn out, while my right shoes are still new looking. The zipper on my left Harley Davidson boot busted and the leather is all worn. The right boot? Perfect condition. I can now drive using my left foot on the brake and the gas. My mind is so wired that way now that I don't think I can go back to using my right foot to drive again.

I keep my mind busy. I pray alot, which helps. Alot. I am so grateful I chose to stay with my husband despite everything because now his number one priority is me, our marriage, and our children. We are best friends again, something we hadn't been for five years. Now that we understand PTSD, TBI, and the other injuries he has, we can better deal with it all. There are still days that are not good, but at least they aren't a living hellish nightmare that we endured for so long. We both lost who we were. Life was beyond Hell.

There is still a very small part of me that is constantly screaming in anger and pain. No longer fear, thank God, but the pain and anger that is there is still very real. After hurting my foot and I literally couldn't get around for a couple of months, I rediscovered my passion for books. I read so much now. Some people deal with thier pain through drugs or alcohol. I deal with mine through books. The escape is beyond heavenly. I have ten library books on my shelf, about twenty I bought recently through ebay, and ten more on hold at the Pierce county and Lewis-McChord libraries. I go through goodreads.com and find the titles of books I want to read and just go at it. Mostly paranormal romances, or the occasional ballet story. I can't get enough, and I love every minute of it. I'm going to let my foot heal completely so I can take ballet classes again. I even thought about going back to Thai kickboxing. I did that when I was younger and loved every minute of it.

One thing I know-I'm a different person now. I'm a stronger, better version of who I was before I lost myself to a very sick, wounded infantryman who went to war one person and came back someone...or something, very different. He was a monster. I would wake up in a panic in the middle of the night, not knowing who or what was lying next to me.... I'm sad that a part of me is dead after all that. I have shields that shoot straight up around me over topics such as alcohol, Iraq, war, women. I can get cold and numb in an instant, with no feeling in me other than self preservation for me and my girls. Nobody. Will. Ever. Hurt. Us. Again.

Life on post is interesting as usual. Soldiers came home, the population has exploded, life is as crazy as ever here. There are things about this life I have always loved. I have so much to tell- the little stories of daily living on an army post. The things I used to write about before Hell hit home. I can't wait to write more. For now, there is a great book waiting for me by my bed. I must go to it.

2010-07-08T18:46:00.000-07:00

The 4th of July was fun. The public was welcome on post for the Freedom Fest and fireworks. My brother and his family came over for a BBQ and we watched fireworks that night. Instead of getting stuck in the middle of the crowds, we found a newly cleared, grassy spot on the hill overlooking the track/fair area and were able to have an upclose view of the fireworks. We were the only ones there, besides a soldier and his little kids on the other side. Instead of getting caught in the traffic, it was a simple walk home. We actually hung up the flag outside our house earlier that day, where it stills waves proudly in the wind.

Soldiers are returning home. Alot of them. I don't think I'll even be able to drive my car on post- it's already so crowded and it's just going to be even more so as summer creeps on. I dont mind. It's my playground but more importantly, it's thier training ground.

2010-06-20T11:11:00.000-07:00

The other day I saw a helicopter chasing a smaller one all around post. They were obviously having alot of fun. The thing I liked most was the giant JAWS teeth painted on the larger helicopter, like a mouth. I had to look twice to make sure I was seeing correctly. It's been awhile since there's been some lighthearted fun around here.

My husband is still receiving the help he should have gotten along time ago. So far so good. Even I have been getting help for awhile now and feel like I am seeing things through new eyes. The fog has diminished quite a bit. Though I will never let my guard fully down again, I do smile alot more and have a better outlook on life. I can't look at female soldiers without getting sick to my stomach so I avoid most places on post. The male soldiers aren't as bad, never have been. Marriage therapy has helped tremendously and I can honestly say my husband and I are friends again for the first time in years. He has gone out of his way to prove his devotion to me and our children and though he is still learning to fully feel again, he told me he sees me as his safe place. I'm happy about that. I hope I can truly say the same about him again someday. PTSD is so real. I know alot of wives out there know what I am talking about.

Summertime is here according to the calendar. The clouds and rain still think they belong, and I still wear sweaters, coats, and boots. I wonder if it's because I lived in the hot South for two years. I just can't seem to warm up. I still make beef stroganoff in the crock pot as though it were the dead of winter and sip on hot cocoa.

The 4th of July is just around the corner. I have always loved the fireworks show the army puts on for us. We'll have a BBQ...maybe even get a little sun. I don't see very many flags on the houses here on post, not even on flag day. We haven't put ours up since the day my husband got back from war. I love my freedom, as we all do. I think we are all just tired. Imagine that.

I can tell alot of soldiers have returned. I don't dare drive on post or just outside of the gates in the morning, lunchtime, or after work. SO CROWDED. I hope I start to write again. I'd like to have a little more of my memories recorded here because I'm not sure how much longer my husband will be in the army. I'm turning in applications to nursing schools now and where I go is where we will go, for a change. Unless Uncle Sam has other plans, but I don't think so.

2010-02-27T21:24:00.001-08:00

The PX was crowded today. As I walked throught the lines of young and middle aged women anxiously waiting, I remembered that today was the day Mario Lopez from SAVED BY THE BELL would be visiting. I passed through the food court and sure enough, there he was, hunched over a table, signing autographs. All I got a glimpse of was his curly dark hair, some brown skin, and just a peek of his famous dimpled smile. Honestly, not that big of a deal.

I do think it's fun to occasionally see a famous person sitting right there at a table at the PX. My PX. The same PX where the woman's clothes are temporarily hidden by a wall of cardboard, a meek little table and chair set out for some big-name who just happens to be lucky enough to step foot onto Fort Lewis. Wait, maybe it's the other way around. Maybe WE are the lucky ones. Anyway, I have seen a few famous faces here over the years. The ones I really remember are President George W. Bush, Thomas Kinkade, Cutie-pie #81 Burleson from the Seattle Seahawks...um...that's all I remember. I do wish I had been here when Dr. Cullen graced us with his presence a year ago or so. He came all the way from Forks to say Hi to the military and I was all the way in Fort Stewart, Georgia at the time. I have wondered if Edward might tire of Bella one day and join the army and get it in his contract to be sent here to Fort Lewis...ah...never mind.

Let's see...any other excitement going on? I was at the commissary tonight buying ingredients for my precious homemade pico de gallo, when I snagged the Army Times newspaper and paid a whole $2.64 for it- something I rarely do. The front cover caught my attention. It seems the very kind $6000 tuition grant that Uncle Sam was offering to military spouses was just snagged away. No warnings, no explanation, no worries. Oh, except for the thousands of spouses who were counting on all that money to go to school next semester. I think they are all very worried now.

I'm just glad I used $900 of that grant this term to finish up my last two nursing prereq's. One more week and I will be all done. Micro and Stats almost done? Check. Associate degree in pre-nursing? Check. Washington state nursing assistant certificate? Check. The remaining $5100 I was counting on to help pay for nursing school? ....?....?

Oh that's right. Uncle Sam took it back.

2010-02-14T21:11:00.000-08:00

I want to thank everyone who has ever commented. It means alot to me.

My husband has been home for about four months now and he has literally everyday gone out of his way to show our girls and I how much he loves us. It took alot of ptsd therapy through the vet center (which he is still receiving) and continous marriage therapy. He absolutely refused to go through the army services and somehow was allowed to get help throught the vet center, as long as they worked with the active army.

The other thing that really made a difference was when I finally let him go. I finally woke up and realized that as much as he blamed me for everything, it wasn't my fault and I couldn't help him. I had no other choice than to take care of myself and our girls and that is finally what I did. I told him I would let him go if that is what he really wanted. He could go party, play, meet women, drink himself to death...I would no longer allow the kids and I to live the hell he was putting us through. I had a strong support group with my family and our church and my Heavenly Father. And I would let my husband go for good and take our girls and get the hell out of his way.

He said no, he didn't want that. He wanted us. He started going to his ptsd therapy appointments, stopped drinking, stopped hanging around certain people, he took his numerous meds daily, attended anger management classes and ptsd studies, he took our marriage therapy seriously. He moved back home and even began to participate in family prayers everyday. Once I let go, he held on.

I have such hope for us. We both are very careful now to show each other love and appreciation everyday. I know that I cannot control him, nor would I ever want to try again. I deserve a man who will fight for our marriage and family and that is what he must do to keep us. And that is what he is doing. I stand by his side because I want to now, not because I am afraid or feel that there are no other options. I believe in him and in us, and best of all- I believe in myself. I help my husband alot with all his appointments, and health and memory issues. I don't mind.

I have seen the wonderful man I met and married change after war and I have literally watched the demons dance around him through it all. The hell we, as a family, have gone through has been the worst nightmare I have ever endured. I can't let myself think to much about it yet, as the pain is to tremendous to bare. I start crying in the middle of the day for absolutely no reason, but I know there are reasons, very real ones.

The man I knew and loved so much is coming back to life a little more everyday. I am so grateful. He is still in the army and we still live on post. He has years to go in his enlistment and I don't know if the army will let him out or not. If not, then he will be so close to retirement then that is what he will do. If they let him out soon, then we will take on a whole new life in the civilian world. I really wouldn't mind going back to it. I really wouldn't mind if he and I just took our girls and moved to Alaska and hid away from the world in a cabin for a very, very long time.

I suffer from my own ptsd, or so the therapists say. I walked on the edge for so long that I still find myself doing it once in awhile... But I can now look around and smile. I still believe in hope and I think this time, hope believes in me.

I think I may really be able to go back to chronicalling daily armywife life now. Through the eyes of a wiser, albeit very cautious armywife now. That's okay. Maybe I can help some newer military wives out there through the hell they will quite possibly endure, if they are not already there.

Hang in there ladies. Be strong and take care of yourselves. You deserve to be loved and to be happy. War, ptsd, tramatic brain injury...it's all very real so keep in mind that your husband probably still does love you very much. But while he is trapped in his own hellacious world and has to decide for himself when to get help, you need to back off, be strong, and look out for yourselves.

2009-10-21T22:13:00.000-07:00

The army helicopter keeps flying overhead, spotlight streaming through the trees. They're obviously looking for someone up here. I told the girls to help me make sure all the doors and windows are locked, which was a good idea- two windows and the back door have been unlocked for who knows how long. I'm up tonight playing with the idea of writing again. I feel as though I've left part of myself unfinished, the way I left this blog.

I often think about the time eight years ago when my husband and I were in Utah and he was getting ready to make the enlistment into the active duty infantry official. I made him promise he would never let any of those army horror stories happen to us. He said he would do his best. I felt as though we would be okay. I still feel that way, despite everything. Maybe I'm crazy. Wait...yes, that's right, I am.

He spends a good half the time with me and our girls and spends the rest of the time with his army buddy off post. It's a very difficult way for me to live, but he says he is almost ready to come home for good. I have seen a difference in the last couple months with the various appointments he goes to, along with our marriage therapy and my personal therapy. He still has his moments, but we are both learning about triggers and how to just walk away when things get intense. It can escalate without a moments notice. We are also relearning how to communicate with each other. Sometimes I hold him so close to me and I can almost pretend that my husband is really there with me. My real husband- the one from the past, before all hell broke loose. For so long it a was as though my husband was gone...just gone. His body was there but a totally different person was inside of it. It was so hard to comprehend. Very painful. He couldn't understand...he couldn't even care.

My husband is doing one thing that many soldiers won't do. He is getting help. He has even asked me to drive with him to his PTSD appointments because the one time I didn't, he drove to his other place and got drunk instead. Some might say, let him do this himself, but he has been my husband for so long. I promised him in sickness and in health, and I am keeping my promise, even if he didn't. If we end up walking away from each other, at least I know I fought my damndest to save this marriage. Things are better but we still have a long way to go, I understand that.

We had such a great week together and yesterday he decided to go to the other house. I thought things were okay until a phone call woke me up at one in the morning. He was drunk off his ass, walking home from a bar. He spilled his guts saying he was tired of death and of bullets flying past his head, and he is mad at God (to put it kindly), and my dad is a mother fucker because he's a Vietnam vet and should understand. Strange thing is, he had to be up by five to go to work.

My husband went to war for our country and came home with a different war for our little family to fight alone, in silent fear for so long. The army says they are trying to help. What a joke. We are getting majority of the real help through the vet center. When my dad says FTA I know exactly what he means now.

The helicopter is gone. They either found who they were looking for, or they didn't. It's okay, the doors are locked and this army wife can handle just about anything now.

2009-08-13T19:20:00.000-07:00

My heart is broken. My husband was diagnosed with PTSD and TBI and life has been hell for more than two years because instead of getting the help he needs, he was shit on even more. We all were. Now we are back at Fort Lewis and my girls and I are living alone. He can barely function with out freaking out, and for safety sake has moved out. We are all getting counseling of all kinds but I can still barely breathe. I thought an army wife was supposed to be strong, just like her warrior husband... now we are all broken.

I love my husband and I am still here for him, despite the things he's done which I can't even begin to mention. He says his biggest fear is to lose me and the kids, then why can't he see that I'M STILL HERE?!

i'm still here...

2008-10-30T18:34:00.000-07:00

We live on post. Housing is roomy enough, and I have set up our 'home' even though we don't really know where home is anymore. Things are better. Neither I nor my husband are as crazy in the head as we used to be. I no longer have to worry about him bringing home soldiers who sit around and get drunk with him and make sexual hints to me behind his back. At one time I thought that was how army life had to be, but now I realize that is no kind of life.

With a little help I have been able to see the viscious trap many families in the military fall into: alcoholism, lies, hurt, a feeling of no escape. He hasn't drank in over half a year. And I told him straight up that I can no longer live with his lies. What is a relationship, really, if there's no trust or honesty? It's certainly not a healthy one, nor is it one I want myself or my daughters subjected to anymore. He has reached out for all sorts of help and programs and has shown me in every way possible that he is serious about getting help. He has been through alot and I know that. I've been there for him. I wait. And hope. And pray. I also save my money and have my back up plans... just in case. He is who he is and I no longer try to change him. Either he continues to be someone worth living with, or he doesn't.

The truth is we do care deeply for each other, but I can no longer be the coward I have hated so much, who accepted so much...so we'll see what happens.

Yes, I am a huge Twilight fan, though I keep it fairly quiet. Stephanie Meyer created a timeless story than can take even a fifty year old back to the age of seventeen- a time when love really was true, and when it was all that seemed to matter. She created an amazing man who can only be found through paper and pen. (And to think I lived that close to Edward in Forks, Washington when we were stationed at Fort Lewis.) November 21st, the book comes to life in the movie theaters. Being who I am, I will not go see the movie for the first week or two. I truly live in my books and movies and if there is a person's head in front of me at the theater, then I will most likely smack it... so I will wait till the hype calms down a bit and the crowds become sparse.

The reason I even bother to mention Twilight is because the first four books were my dearest companions as I journeyed from Texas through Louisiana, through Mississippi, through Alabama, through Georgia, up to South Carolina to pick up my husband, and back to Georgia to a new army post. I mostly read them at night, after my girls were tucked into the hotel beds and the lights were dimmed. Out came the flashlight and alive came Edward and Bella. I would stay up reading til I couldn't see anymore or until the book and flashlight would fall to the floor, my eyes closing. Of course I read Breaking Dawn, but that was after we arrived at Fort Stewart and I had to wait until August for its release. I can only say that Stephenie Meyer has a mind I would love to visit.

We were walking through Wal Mart the other day, the only major store around Hinesville for about 45 miles, when a soldier commented on how bad ass my husbands Sea Hawks jersey was. We found out he was from Seattle too, and was just recently stationed here in Georgia. His english was so crisp and clear. For once I finally heard my own North Western accent. I hear alot of odd slang and accents around here. Black, South, slurred....you name it, the accent is here. I had a best friend from Alabama who was stationed in Washington with us and she tried to tell me we sounded as though we spoke more proper or something. I thought it was odd but now I know what she was trying to say.

It's good to write again. I've missed me.

2008-02-02T18:46:00.000-08:00

I believe my armywife blog days may be over. I have nothing to write about and when I sit down to write, I draw a blank. My husband has been active duty for almost six years and though I was told the other day that I am still just a baby to this armylife, I feel as though this is all I know- to the point that I can no longer distinguish the difference between before and after life inside the gates enough to write my observations or opinions anymore. I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired and don't care anymore. But let me give it one more try.

I took my daughter to ballet class the other day and sat on the steps of the empty hallway next to the open door of her classroom, classical music floating through the background and the occasional ballerina walking by. I tried to study medical terminology but couldn't focus as I realized despite moving and all things brand new, including the scary turns life can sometimes take me on, the one bit of familiarity I could cling to was simply being in a ballet studio.

When I was in high school and my heart needed healing, I could dance and drift away to another place. I could hide in the dance studio where I was an assistant ballet teacher and smile as I taught the sometimes plump little girls with thier pink leotards and frilly tu-tu's, the kind that only little girls can wear. Or I could hold onto that barre and focus on nothing else but bettering myself as a dancer and lifting my leg higher than before, or turning faster than ever, or balancing with perfection and listen to the click click click of my beautiful brand new pointe shoes on the hard wood floors and the only competiton I felt was with absolutely no one else but myself... those were the days when I could truly breathe and when I knew who I was and where I was going and what I could become.

I always thought I had to get out of that dirty, rainy little nothing of a town but I had no idea how much I would miss it once I was gone. I married my husband as a teenager and had a baby soon after and had kissed ballet and all my dreams goodbye. I had breathed my last breath of true youth and young freedom. We fought together to survive those early years, just me and him and that baby. We barely had enough food for dinner some nights but we had more than enough love to feed the whole damn world. We truly knew what love was. He was my knight in shining armor, the only boy I could EVER want. I was his queen of all queens.

As time passed, the boy turned into a young man and somehow gathered enough strength to leave for a little while and train in the army as a means to try and better himself, but most importantly, to provide for his young family- now with not one, but two precious daughters to care for. It was torture, the time apart, but as time proves over and over again, it surely passed. So grateful to be back together, we moved to an army post in Washington, a place where he learned how to become a true blue infantryman and how to become one with the Strykers. War took him away again, not for to long, but long enough to see and do things that he would never forget, as much as he wished he could. He lost friends to death and he himself was injured. His countenence grew darker and darker with each passing day after his return. Nobody cared about him. He no longer cared about anyone either, much less of what his God wanted for him. Something was under his skin and wouldn't ever let him rest. He could no longer look at his family the same. He saw them as a burden, they were in the way... of what though? He had no answers. In moments of sanity, he didn't want to feel this way.

I, on the other hand, lost my mind as well. How could the only boy I ever loved and who ever loved me change so much? He now had an empty soul, eyes so dark, and a hatred so deeply inbeded that not even death itself mattered to him anymore. He was now something so opposite of what he used to be.

Our love was there...somewhere. It had to be. If I just dug deep enough maybe I could bring it to the surface and let it renew itself. If I prayed hard enough maybe the God that was there for me as a child would show himself when I needed him more than ever before. Maybe, if I could somehow look inside myself and reach into a part of me that didn't think could possibly exist and hold onto that woman who has to be strong no matter what happens, maybe she'll be strong for me. Because I'm losing ground. I can't find reality. The baths I take everyday aren't to spoil or pamper myself, they are to help me find myself, and maybe to help me hide from this dark world that I live in inside these gates. When I turn out the lights and light a tiny candle and hide my face deep in the water with thoughts of never coming up for air, it's to protect myself from the world that nobody warned me about when we were young and desperate and we joined the army at war time.

I can look around and see the families who have been where we are. I can pick them out pretty easily. We try to smile. We are supposed to have pride. So why don't we fly the American flag outside anymore? It's not there. Not anymore. We can't go to the grave sites of the men who died in war because it hurts to much. We can't go get help because that would be the end of us for sure. We are experts at hiding what this has done to us. I applaud the soldiers and families who can endure all of this and come out shining. Maybe you are stronger than us. Maybe you are better than us, or maybe it's just how it is. I do applaud you though.

Maybe someday while I am at my dance studio, pirouetting, or leaping through the air, or just simply breathing, I can get myself together and be as strong as you are, as strong as I should be.

Maybe.

2007-12-15T13:04:00.000-08:00

We get a tiny bit of clouds and drizzle and everyone here throws on thier coats, hats, umbrellas even, and call it rain. I call it a little bit of home as I wear a short sleeve t-shirt and stand out in the chilly air soaking it up. Who'd have ever thought I'd miss the rain so much?

I am ready to begin work at the hospital. I've been asked more than once if I have been there yet and seen what there is to see? I knew they meant the burned, tore up soldiers from Iraq. The soldiers who are missing parts of thier bodies, skin, face. The guys in wheelchairs without arms and legs, or with bandages around thier burned faces, or what is left of a once beautiful face. Of course I have seen it. And I am going there to do what ever I can to help out.

Home life is okay. Fine, even. I rarely walk on eggshells anymore, ever since I found this excellant article on co-dependency, and it woke me up a bit. While self-medication through alcohol and 'shutting down' are still regular occurances for my soldier, he understands that I don't like them very much. We have somehow managed a twisted compromise involving alcohol and family and army and religion. To try and prioritize that list just isn't possible right now. It depends on the moment, really. I'd like to say that Iraq was the only cause of PTSD and a messed up life, but I believe the infantry unit he was in began the hell years before he ever deployed. He was low-crawling and 'killing the enemy' in his sleep way before he ever left for war.

Fortunately I am relearning that I must take care of me, and not just by going to ballet or school or work. My children are becoming more of my focus-as they should be, as well as myself, and not just him. I am beginning to remember that my opinions matter, and they matter alot. I am also learning to be fair and patient, less judgemental, more compassionate. Everyday seems to be a learning experience around here, for some reason. If I dare to hope for a better place, it's okay. I'm not disillusioned. Hope, kind words, and willpower really do make a difference. I've witnessed it many times over.

There is still hope here.

2007-12-04T08:35:00.000-08:00

The other day my neighbor and I were visiting and the conversation turned to the all the disrespectful, uncontrollable children in the neighborhood who run around and cause trouble. She said it was never like this until about last year when the army started moving all the wounded soldiers and thier families into housing. She commented how it's all those infantry families that are causing the problems. Then she stopped in mid-sentence and suddenly looked trapped, and very apologetic. I just laughed and told her it's probably very true. I wasn't offended in the least.

2007-11-30T06:12:00.000-08:00

I believe I have finally pulled my head out from under the covers and can take a good look around. You'd think I'd been in depression the past few months and maybe I have. It's probably not to uncommon for a situation like mine, especially with a surprise move just before the holidays. I miss my family and thought I would be celebrating one last holiday season with them, but we have always known we could leave anytime and always made the most of each Thanksgiving and Christmas, knowing it could be our last with them for awhile. We have some good memories.

Back at Lewis I was within four hours driving time from my family so I never quite knew how other army families felt, being so far away from home. I wondered why many wives hid inside thier homes so much. Now I know. We really can't afford to fly us all out there and back this Christmas, and neither my husband nor I are from wealthy families so they can't help us out either. Oh well. At least I will be with my husband and my kids will be with thier daddy this Christmas, which is a miracle in itself at wartime for an active duty family.

Fort Sam is a slight disappointment, but I have to remind myself it's not the typical army post I am used to living on. This is more of a training/medical post and I rarely even see an army vehicle, rarely see army helicopters fly around, though I DO see alot of military funerals. I see plenty of AIT students, doctors and nurses, and wounded soldiers from Iraq.

The attitude is different here as well. The feeling in the air is of newbies who have yet to have a clue of what lies ahead of them-war. So many of them are focused on drinking, playing, and trying new sex partners every weekend, when they should be learning how to save lives and become real soldiers. My husband had some friends over once and they happened to bring along a female soldier and she spent the whole evening snuggling up to two different guys. Come to find out both guys were married, but not to her. I was disgusted that it was brought into my own home.

I know people will do what they want in this world, and I almost feel it was a curse to be brought up with the morals the way I was. It makes it difficult for me to be around this environment. I really believe seeing all the shit that goes on around here is what set me off into a depression. The reality of it all, and knowing my husband has to work right in the middle of it, and all I can do is trust.

Of course it's rampant all through out the army, but for some reason it is right in my face here, as much as I try to look the other way. I know single soldiers have a right to do what they want, but when a trusting wife is waiting back at home and female soldiers are trying to lay thier dirty claws into the married men just for the hell of it, I get sick. I've just seen way to much of it here.

Onto the lighter side of life, I found a ballet studio with a wonderful instructor and I look forward to my classes each week. They keep me alive really. Pirouette's and pointed toes and a dancer's demeanor. I just drink it all in. I have even picked up a yoga class, as odd as that class is to me. I have heard the health benefits are tremendous so I just had to try it. Hell, I may even start eating blueberries and oatmeal everyday. But I refuse to hug a tree- unless it's one of the Evergreens back home. I miss them that much.

I really want to post some positive, uplifting words but I have very little good to write. That is why it's been a month since I last posted. But life goes on just as it always does, so keeping busy with school, working, volunteering, and dancing just as I always have is what currently keeps me going.

Thanks to those who still come back here and read. I see there are still a few people left!

2007-10-29T06:51:00.000-07:00

Every now and then I ask my husband if he's ready to get out of the Army, move to Alaska, build a cabin, and live the real life yet? He was willing after he came home from Iraq, but I wasn't ready. Now I'm ready but he wants to stay in the Army. We clearly are on different pages.

It's not just that I want to live in Alaska. I'm more after simplicity. I want to get back to the basics of life. Just to be able to peek outside and not have to worry about the fast-paced, false world we live in now. To see a wild animal or a wildflower. To see a sunset or watch the stars and breathe fresh, clean air. I long for all that.

No more soldiering. No more war. No more news. No more lies and tears and lonliness. No more putting my life on hold so he can do it all. Of course I'm proud of him, but I'm tired. And he is too.

Sometimes one can feel trapped to stay in this life. What will we do out there? How will we give the kids health insurance and a decent home, with food, toys, a future? Infantry skills are great for the Army, but I can't exactly kill people out there in America...

That's why I'm going to college my love, to become a nurse and make some money and help people all the while. So we can get out and look around and breathe again. See what life is really about. I have forgotten that world to the point that I am afraid of it, and you have forgotten it even more so than I. Here, on the inside, it get's so cold and lonely. The outside looks brand new and adventurous.

I miss my sister. She needs her big sister when that first little baby comes. I miss my parents. I want to know them again before they get to old and don't remember who I am. I know you miss your family, though you don't even seem to know who you are anymore.

I especially miss you, my love. There are so many divorces in this world. Everyone you and I know have been divorced or are unfaithful to each other. The rings on our fingers mean nothing to them, but it has always meant so much to us. Let's hold on to each other and get away while we still can...

So he has at least a couple more years on his contract. One can have a daydream moment, can't she?

2007-10-12T22:19:00.000-07:00

I drive to the barracks to collect his green bag full of dirty ACU's and give him a quick kiss on the lips. He looks thinner in the face and very, very tired. If I am lucky he will get to come home soon. In the mean time half an hour here and there will have to get us by. At least he is not in Iraq again, I tell myself.

I text him tonight, telling him I wish he were here because I miss him. I want to see him again. He texts back and says soon enough, be patient. He sends me a text picture of a waterfall in Washington that he named after me. The memory soothes my lonliness for awhile. I miss the Washington coast I tell him. We'll have to make new memories here, won't we?

Yes.

He asks for a sexy picture of me which I text to him, no longer caring if his friends see it or not. He likes my pictures and it helps him get by.

Good night, my love.

Good night.

I know better than to harrass him to much while he trains. He can't control all things so there is no point in getting upset with him.

Awake. Kids off to school. I run my errands early, before the heat picks up and before traffic gets to busy.

Looking for work is not always fun, especially when I don't know my way around this enormous city. If I take one of the interstates West, then I would take it East to get back home. Deep breath. I can do that. Not bad for a shy, skinny girl who was raised in the country with orchards, fields, and combines being my only entertainment. I would ride my bike two miles on empty country roads just to meet my best friend halfway for a picnic in a field of wildflowers. Quite a difference from driving in the seventh largest city in the U.S.

I set my purse down and check my cell phone. Yeah, the ringer is on just like the last time I checked it. No phone calls. I hate feeling so dependent on someone who can't help me when I need it the most. Moving here has been limiting to say the least. I am completely on my own, which in some ways has been liberating, but when it comes to simple things such as finding a new store or looking for a job, I feel helpless.

I throw the cell phone on the couch as I walk out the door and head across the street to the neighbors house. She is out front for a smoke as usual, and I smile at her. She is barely familiar, yet the only thing closest to familiarity I have here. Another neighbor is with her and they are chatting away as armywives do so well, with an occasional bout of laughter one could probably hear up the street.

I swore at one point in my life that I would never be a lawn chair armywife, that I had better things to do than waste time by hanging out front, chatting with other desperate housewives, no matter how good the gossip may get. But things are different here and if some much needed socialization means sitting out front, then by all means.

The conversation is good and I join in easily, no longer that shy girl from the country. We all agree that eventually even the sweetest girls have to learn some bitchiness in order to survive this life. The eighteen year old across the street has yet to gain confidence as an armywife. She keeps to herself, hides in her house, and shakes when spoken too. I introduced myself to her once and she could barely utter two words. I remember before my husband was in the army, I lived in awe and fear of wives who were married to active duty soldiers. I was afraid they might swallow me whole if I looked at them wrong.

The conversation progressed from the local neighbors, to Tricare, to planning a trip to the range, to our husbands and female soldiers. Ouch. Touchy subject. It's unfortunate some of the situations we have witnessed involving infidelity. I have often wondered why Uncle Sam doesn't just throw all of the soldiers, male and female, into one big bed and just get the giant orgy overwith. Hell, throw in a bunch of wives to make it more realistic.

We have all wondered about odd situations involving our husbands and female soldiers, all in the name of 'army business.' We have seen to much shit go down and what can you do about it? Worry till you can't see straight? Get even? Trust blindly? How about trust and be the best person you can be, so you can at least know you did your part in the marriage, and hope your spouse will show you the same respect and decency you show him. If he doesn't, then bravely move on.

And then get even.

2007-10-10T21:16:00.000-07:00

My husband finally got a moment to breathe and we were able to go the the infamous San Antonio Riverwalk. What a peaceful walk with hotels and shrubbery, restaurants and flowers surrounding the water; people relaxing as they enjoyed a delicious meal outdoors, pretending they really could feel cool air from the water take away the humid heat of the sun.

We had a selection of eateries and unanimously decided to give Dick's a try. The waitors there were known for their rude behavior and bold comments and while I knew my husband would have fun with that, I secretly prayed they would look the other way and just let me enjoy my bourbon glazed salmon in peace.

The guys working that day clearly didn't see a need to pick a fight with my husband and they focused thier attention on the older, fatter crowds and made it clear to them that was why they were getting picked on. One guy even told a family to keep thier kids the hell away from him. I was easily entertained and tried not to laugh to loud. I think my husband was slightly disappointed no one said anything rude to us, but he didn't feel the need to start anything either. Of course I was relieved. There were a few military guys there and one of the waitors interupted thier conversation to ask a simple question,"What are you guys talking about? Blowing up shit and stuff? Yeah, I like that shit too."

I am slowly learning the post and it frustrates me more than anything else. There are very few outlets for family members and soldiers alike, very little entertainment. I understand that is what we have San Antonio for, but damn. Of course Burger King owns the lunch crowd just like on any other post and it appears the PX or bowling alley is the only hang out around here besides a couple of bars for the nightlife. Yes, I did find the library and yes, it is where I go to clear my mind.

I am amazed at the cemetary here. Not a day goes by when there's not a military funeral or two in session. Literally everytime I have driven by on the main road, I have seen a funeral. I have watched the widows dressed in black and saw the 21 gun salutes. I felt as though I had no right to invade thier privacy by looking, yet I couldn't help but wonder about that soldier's life. Was he old and retired? Did he fight recently in Iraq or Afghanistan and just couldn't hold on to this life anymore? Was his wife and children, mother, father, family or friends in the most severe pain I couldn't ever imagine feeling? How in the world does that pain get better? I have decided it is best not to dwell on it. As a military wife I could go insane wondering about all the what-ifs this life holds.

2007-10-02T13:29:00.000-07:00

The house that Uncle Sam built is beginning to feel a little more like home now. Majority of the unpacking is done and I have set up house pretty close to the way I had it set up back at Fort Lewis. Only this house feels more Southern in just about every way, right down to the front porch almost being an extended room.

I have come to understand that geckos are actually our friends because they will eat our enemies, and killing cockroaches has become a sport I share with my kitten. She notifies me if one is under the couch late at night, and I take all my frustrations out on the nasty critter until it is dead. Really, not only do we talk 'normal' in the Pacific Northwest, but we don't have to deal with even half of the insect issues the South deals with.

I have such kind neighbors who will bend over backwards just to help someone out. Whether it be a listening ear or helping me find the dance studio somewhere deep in the heart of San Antonio, or bringing over Pepsi chicken and key lime pie, just because. They have been there for me. I am finding out kindness can be contagious.

Contrary to what I thought for a little while, armywives are still an asset to soldiers. My house is often a hangout for soldiers and I have passed out a blanket and warm dinner more than once in the past few days. I hate not seeing my husband regularly, but I do see him from time to time which helps prevent the insanity from seeping in. He always brings a few buddies with him and of course I don't mind, but when there isn't someone tagging along, I cherish the rare moments alone with him.

I have made an ongoing list of things to do when my husband is away (whether it be training, tdy, war, what the hell ever) because if I don't keep busy, I become that crazy armywife who needs to seriously get herself together...

*Exercise (my faves: walking, jogging, weights)
*Make chocolate chip cookies (remember to halve the recipe and double the chocolate chips to your liking)
*take the kids to the park, the one with giant sprinklers...we have never experienced such magic
*work or school or both, of course
*re-evaluate goals and write them down often
*eat green olives stuffed with feta cheese while typing on your milblog
*look for that other ice skate until you realize there are no ice skating rinks nearby
*give some of those cookies to the soldier who took apart your AR-15 rifle and cleaned it for you because he just couldn't help himself
*get pictures of all your husbands tattoos because you can't stare at them when he's away (especially the skulls that glow in the black light)
*continue the ongoing debate of getting one yourself
* pat yourself on the back for withstanding the peer pressure of your husband and all his buddies who tried to convince you to get that spur-of-the-moment tattoo just because they did. God bless the milky skin that hasn't been inked
*download music from itunes (a few faves: Where'd you go by Fort Minor, Dante's prayer by Loreena Mckennitt, Season of Love by Jaci Valasquez, Holiday by Britt Nicole, Flower of Scotland by Brora)
*apply to nursing school and hope that you will still be here next spring when school starts
*take bubble baths often
*send lots of pictures and a weekly email letter to friends and family back home because they really do appreciate it
*get a kitten, the entertainment alone will keep you smiling
*go on giant southern cockroach hunting sprees, no hunting license required
*read this woman's blog
*walk up the street about midnight. Enjoy the 88 degree weather and marvel at the night lights of San Antonio
*grab that map and try not to get lost upon leaving those gates when heading out into the real world
*sing lullabyes to your kids at night because it tends to soothe you just as much as it does them
*let your youngest crawl into bed with you at night once in awhile...the world suddenly doesn't feel so lonely
*don't shop to much...just a little bit now
*do buy sexy lingerie. You'll get to wear it someday when he gets back
* do buy sexy bras- you can wear those even when he is gone
*Ok, buy those cute shoes while you're at it, they will help keep a smile on your face just by looking down
*plan some really fun Halloween crafts and decorations to do with the kids...gotta love Halloween!
*take lots of pictures with your digital camera
*learn to make a quilt
*paint a dresser and make it adorable for the kids bedroom
*count how many drill sgt's you can see at the PX in a week. If they don't have the hat on, just look for that black badge...not to many, huh? They rarely stop working
*take a peek at Craigslist.com. It's unbelievable what good deals you might find
*watch your daughter pick her nose with her own tongue. It's highly impressive
*take up salsa dancing. What could be sexier? I miss, miss, miss the latino dance club back at Fort Lewis
* dig through the cupboards and return all the neighbors tupperware and dishes, as well as the neighbor kids clothes left behind from the last sleep over
*buy a leapard print broom because you really will sweep around the house more often
*more ideas to come

2007-09-24T05:36:00.001-07:00

I read this from the Seattlepi.com and had a good cry. I don't know how families manage to go on after thier soldier is killed. There was a camp at Fort Lewis to help some of the families deal with the pain. Some excerpts from the article:

Kaylee wadded the clay into a ball.

"This is the Iraqi that killed my dad," she said, her voice rising as her fists pummeled the clay into a flat pancake. "I hate you, I hate you. I hate you."

And this...

"After lunch, the kids trooped back to their rooms for one more task -- writing letters to the ones they had lost. The adrenalin charge from playing with the soldiers evaporated, and the mood turned quiet.

"I love you," wrote Chrizchele Bunda, 9, whose father died while patrolling the Tigris River in Iraq in January 2004. "I wish I could see you one more time..."

As painful a reality it is to read this, I'm very glad to see the government reaching out to these families and offering something, anything to help honor and remember thier soldier, as well as keeping them a part of the larger military family, for they always will be.

2007-09-23T19:05:00.000-07:00

The geckos that hang out on my front porch late at night seem to be my only source of companionship, although I tend to run and hide from them more often than I actually talk to them. (Are they even geckos?!) I think the few words I've ever spoken to them went something like, "Get off my porch, please." I said please to the geckos but called the giant cockroach on my wall a motherfucker and tried to kill it. It kept on running even after I heard a crunch and it quickly disappeared under my couch. So the Texas bugs and I aren't getting along very well, I don't think we ever will, and I have been so busy unpacking, running normal just-moved-in errands, soothing my "I miss home, mommy" kids, and all the while hoping to catch a glimpse of my husband here and there if I drive past the right location at just the right time. There are no arrows down the commissary isles of Fort Sam, the first time I feel like I really need them the most.

In between everything I have managed to come across a magical find: ballet classes during the day, so I don't have to try and find a babysitter. I can't even fathom the bliss I will be in an hour and a half per day, three days a week. When I put on a pair of toe shoes or ballet slippers, life as I know it vanishes and nothing else matters. I can't wait to get started.

I'm beginning to feel the pains of a PCS move concerning school and work. Not so easy for an armywife to just pick up where she left off in another state. Damn. I can always volunteer at the army hospital with my CNA training until I take a Texas state test and get a job, but then will it be a waste of my time if we end up moving to Georgia this spring? And how much longer will I have to keep putting off nursing school? I have no idea why, but I called a recruiter and asked him again about getting my LPN through the military. I have an appointment this week with him but really should cancel it. I want to join the military but know I can't when there is no family care plan. I keep running around in circles and I'm not quite sure where the staight-away is for me.

I sure hope husbands out there realize how much thier wives sacrifice for thier miltary careers. It's all out of love, but damn, this is crazy.

Okay, one positive thing out of all this: I know my husband is safe.

2007-08-25T23:18:00.000-07:00

Is this real?

My head is spinning, my mouth is dry.

I am both excited and sad.

Is this what it's like when your husband receives orders for our first real life PCS move?

Let me back up a bit...

After months of commitment and anticipation, my husband was more than ready to receive new training as a medic in TX and had planned to return to Fort Lewis so he could join his unit in Iraq. As hard as it had been for me to accept, I think I was finally there- able to kiss him goodbye for a year and a half, carry on with tears in my eyes, and even wear a half smile half the time.

One morning, not very long ago, he came home after PT and began hitting his head against the wall.

"What?" I asked, "What is it?"

He was silent, walked to the computer and began to type.

"You can't just come home from work, hit your head against the wall, and say NOTHING at all," I informed him. He turned the computer screen my way.

"Welcome to our new home," he said with slight dismay. I looked at the website and gasped. Looks like my haunted-city-Savannah and fireflies-in-a-jar curiousity will finally be quenched. Very soon. And to top it all off, we get to PCS to Texas while he trains. Who said the Big Man upstairs isn't listening?

My head is spinning and my heart is breaking because this is my home, and I will certainly miss home. I have almost six years of memories made here. Many good, some not so good.

But the house is empty, the gas tank is filled, and the gates of Fort lewis are closing behind me. Just like that.

I started out here as a clueless junior enlisted infantry wife with a young husband thrown into a world of strykers and soldiers and war and death.

I am leaving with a clue. And a smile.

No worries... this is my journal and I will still write.

2007-08-14T01:11:00.000-07:00

I took my girls out after eleven-pm-twenty-three-hundred to try and catch the meteors that are supposed to be falling. We missed them last night thanks to the cloud coverage but tonight, being fairly clear, I called out the beloved mommy sing-song of "Pajama Run!" and watched the girls, dressed in thier pajamas, run to the car screaming with delight the whole way.

I circled around post for a little while, as dark and lonely as it sometimes gets on a late weekday night, with the moon roof down and Seattle's smooth jazz playing as a lullabye. We drove out one of the gates and head towards McDonalds, hoping to find thier drive through window still open. It was, and of course thier ice cream machine was shut down, so we each got a dollar chicken burger and a cup of water before taking the short drive over the railroad tracks back on post.

The late night gate guards were all smiles and even waved to my girls as we drove on through in our pajamas, after showing my military ID. It occured to me that I probably shouldn't be in pj's, especially if they decided to do a car search or if I got a flat tire thus revealing to the world that I do wear my pajamas in public (under a long sweater coat, of course) but how could I possibly call out 'pajama run' and not play the part?

We drove past buildings and bright lights before turning off onto a dark lonely road that head straight into nowhere, and after going just far enough into the night so I felt comfortably spooked, we pulled off onto a gravel side and dimmed the lights.

With the moonroof down, windows cracked, and doors locked, we searched the skies for falling fireworks. Stars littered the night and I felt like we were at a planetarium, only with the bragging rights of a live view. I pointed out several constellations to my daughters who each took a turn clawing thier way to the top of the seats hoping to peek thier head outside for a closer view. Eventually I couldn't handle the jazz anymore and began endless channel surfing, wishing I had grabbed my favorite Loreena Mckennitt cd or even the celtic lullabyes cd, bypassing even AM talk tonight.

Getting dizzy. Don't fall into space. Finally, a shooting star.

I excitedly pointed it out to my girls and soon they began to point out meteors themselves, every two seconds or so. I wish I had that vivid of an imagination.

Soon enough another vehicle drove slowly past, turned around and drove by again. Then a third time before parking down the road, hidden behind some bushes. I rolled my eyes and knew I probably shouldn't be sitting on a secluded road with my dimmers on, most likely parked to close to some mighty fortress compound.

I suppose I should have been scared to death. Off post, I would have never left my house that late at night to begin with, but as I have come to know this post as my backyard, I didn't feel the urgency I probably should have felt to run. I understood this person was probably just checking up on any unusual activity, but I also knew I wasn't the only one roaming around here trying to find a good view of the meteor showers. Oh well, at least he didn't call the MP's.

2007-08-11T21:06:00.000-07:00

After I closed my eyes the other night, I awoke to find myself in a dark, burned out, barren area. Little patches of smoke drifted around me, obvious remnants of smoldering debree. Several soldiers around me were crouched, weapons aimed ahead, with a look of sternness piercing thier eyes as they moved forward toward a dangerous source I couldn't see. I felt a sense of peace as I sat amongst them, no weapons in my hands, no desert uniform on my back, just civilian clothes that sorely set me apart, though no one seemed to mind. Thier eyes softened for a brief moment as they glanced my way before passing by.

For some reason I was with our soldiers in the enemy's land. I knew I was safe with these men, despite the obvious war torn surroundings, and I could feel myself smile a bit as I knew my husband was also there, and I was with him. My smile widened as he approached me and crouching beside me, he held me for a moment. I would forever be content in his arms and as long as he never let go, I could care less where we were.

Though I didn't recognize the soldier's stern face as he approached us, I could feel panic inside as he firmly pointed to my husband. I could tell by the way he carried himself that he was my husband's leadership.

"No..." I cried out even before he could reach us. My face was wet with tears and I was suddenly aware of the cold ground as my husband swiftly stood up, rifle in hand, tan boots standing at attention next to my faltering body.

"No," I repeated, shaking my head, not letting go of his hand. He kissed me quickly, fervently.

"It's time for me to go," was all he said as he let go and walked away with the others. I was crying, though I didn't want to. I wanted to be strong for him, so he would know I'd be alright. His eyes held mine until he couldn't anymore and he continued on.

I was left alone, grasping in the dark, trying to find something to hold on to.

I opened my eyes quickly and looked around the dark room. Only dim light from the moon was peeking through the window blinds, telling me it was just a dream. No, a nightmare...one that I won't be able to wake from very soon.

I pushed up close to my husband as he lay with his back to me, breathing softly, asleep. I reached my arm across his back and rested my hand on the curve of his bare shoulderblade, drawing nervous circles into his skin. Maybe I would accidentally wake him up and he would hold me again.

I closed my eyes and waited for sleep to take over. No more dreams, please.

2007-08-05T16:22:00.000-07:00

Life is a mixture of emotions as we prepare for him to leave, although most of my time is spent trying to remind myself this is okay, good even, for our future... I tell myself that he will be home again and life will continue on until then. We both act as though nothing big is coming up just so we don't accidentally fight, and we purposefully add more heartfelt "I love you's" while we are still face to face. Extra snippets of kindness are included in our daily conversation, and longer glances at each other are taken advantage of. Experience has told me before that now is the time I have to hold him and tell him in person how much I truly care about him, so I make sure I do.

I'll use this next year and a half as my time to get myself together and maybe even find my new and improved self. I've been wanting to do alot of things that get put on hold all to often and now is my chance to do them. The only problem with that approach to separation and deployment is the fact that no matter how much I do to keep busy, or how many enjoyable activities I have been wanting to catch up on, there is always a literal pain in my heart and an empty feeling that just won't subside until he is safely back home again.

My kids are old enough to have a clue that Daddy will be gone again. They don't like the whole war issue and this time not only do they know alot of kids whose fathers are deployed, but they know a couple whose fathers have died in war, and they are scared. I do my best to tell them that we have prayed and feel this is the right thing to do. I make sure they understand thier daddy, as well as all the other soldiers, are doing a very honorable job.

Of course, deep in my heart, I believe no one hates war more than an armywife. I no longer obsess with politics. I have come to accept this is my husband's job, and though I will never be blind to politics (armywives are keenly aware of the faults of the government), I do accept that no matter what, this is still a great country and I am proud my husband chooses to be a Soldier for her.

2007-07-26T14:43:00.000-07:00

I saw the Armywives tv show the other night. Actually, I have watched it faithfully since it aired on Lifetime several weeks ago. It's the wierdest thing to get so enthralled in that show and after an hour shut off the tv, look around, and realize that I'm still living the life.

The episode the other night involved one of the little kids bringing home a neighbor boy who said his father had died in war. Just days before that episode, my daughter befriended a little kid visiting the new neighbors next door and when my daughter came home she told me that her new friend's dad had been blown up in Iraq and that they no longer live on post because he died. I think my jaw dropped or something. I know it happens, as much as I don't want to think about it, but we are meeting more and more wives and children who have lost thier precious husbands and fathers. My heart sinks each time.

So my turn has come up again to truly experience this thing called armywife life. My husband has successfully switched his MOS to become a combat medic and will be away for training, only to turn around and join his unit who by then will be in Iraq. He will be gone for almost eighteen months total. I have it easier than many wives because I will visit him a couple days every month for the next few months until he deploys, so at least I have that much. I switch from moments of anger and despair, to pride and happiness knowing that he will be doing what he wants to do again. Ironically, my good friend's husband is searching for a unit to deploy with because though she doesn't quite understand why, he wants to go back to Iraq. Maybe we will be in this together.

2007-07-21T21:59:00.000-07:00

I watched Breakfast at Tiffany's today... cried a little at the ending because Holly Golightly got back out of that taxi and ran in the rain to find her cat. Of course I was happy that she also went back for the guy, but the cat. She went back for the cat. Now that was a good story.

I made some savory stuffed mushrooms and very tall cheeseburgers as well. I didn't even flinch as I ate all of it. Every last bite. All the tomatoes, pickles, onions and sharp cheddar cheese I could possibly fit onto that poor little burger, topped with a round little bun. It was quite a treat. What else was I to do? The rain has been pouring so heavy lately that I can barely even see if I drive and the surrounding grayness is like a permeating fog. This state is literally the color gray everywhere I look. So I took full advantage of the rain and watched a dvd that has been sitting, unopened, on my shelf of dvd's just waiting for days like this one. Up next: A BBC Jane Austen movie. Or two.

2007-07-16T15:09:00.000-07:00

The other day I witnessed the Rally for the Troops as a few thousand or so motorcyclists rode in a long line up the freeway in support of our soldiers. It was more accidental, really. I drove right onto I-5, mixing in with the bikers as they rode past the post. After I realized it was the biker Rally for the Troops, I came back and stood up on Freedom bridge for a few minutes with the infamous bridge people, as they cheered and waved flags, to watch the rare sight of so many bikes being rode together.

I've always appreciated the people who stand out on that bridge every Saturday morning, rain or shine, waving flags and encouraging excitement . I wanted to participate with them someday- at least once I've hoped, before we get stationed elsewhere. Though it has crossed my mind before to grab some girlfriends and throw on red, white, and blue bikinis while we waved from the bridge, I knew that wouldn't be very appropriate behavior for armywives (should probably just leave that one for the USO.) Instead, I threw on my black Harley Davidson boots in support of the bikers, and watched as they supported our soldiers.

It was a rush, I admit, with all the motorcyclists reving thier engines and the riders waving as they rode beneath the bridge. Many bikers had on patriotic attire, complimenting thier regular black leather, while others wore regular everyday clothes, and some proudly flew flags from the back of thier bikes.

Numerous cars on the freeway honked and the drivers cheered once they realized what the commotion was all about. One driver of a big rig proudly held his Vietnam Veteran hat out the window and smiled wide, as though he were finally getting the recognition he has always deserved.

Many soldiers participated as well, riding thier beloved bikes and dressed in thier ACU's, or wearing cool leather jackets with the word ARMY sprawled across thier backs. I was thrilled to see the support poured out by so many people as they drove past. While some drivers waved meekly from thier steering wheel, others were loud and proud. Many children had fun, smiling as they realized they now had an excuse to stick thier hands out of the moving car windows.

I waved back to the cars and motorcyclists, switching arms as necessary. I always thought it was mostly army families who waved and honked from thier cars to the supporters on the bridge but surprisingly, the majority of honks came from civilian cars just passing through, showing thier support for the troops.

There were many dual-fingered peace symbols tossed our way, and one car drove by as the driver yelled, "Down with Bush, Down with Bush!" But we ignored him. We weren't there to worry about politics, just the beautiful fact that many people do indeed still support our soldiers. It was rejuvenating for me knowing that maybe people are still aware of, and care even, that our soldiers are at war.

2007-07-11T18:19:00.000-07:00

I took the my girls swimming, trying to beat the mini heat wave we've been having the past couple of days. 90 degrees is a very big deal around here. The family swimming pool on post is not typically crowded, but it sure was today. This time I decided against swimming myself and sat up on the benches like many mommies do, out of fear of getting hit in the head by some kid doing a belly flop, or possibly swimming into a potty filled warm spot. Just never know what could happen with so many kids. At least the pool isn't shut down for the whole summer like it was a couple years ago. Some kid had pooped in it and the rest of us were just shit out of luck.

Despite all my friends who have moved away, new ones always manage to move in. My husband became friends with a soldier during a temporary job months ago and I met his wife soon after. She has the widest smile and a laugh to match, and we can talk about anything for hours. Last night we went for a long walk in the dark, ran through sprinklers, and talked about everything from the constellations in the sky, to our current goals, to strip poker. We dodged the misquitos and ran past the shadowed fields. It felt nice to be a kid again. I miss the carefree days when best friends and long hot summers were all that mattered.

My newest neighbor gives me hope as well. Her husband was wounded in Iraq and came home early. Though they have alot to deal with right now, his recovery and readjustment, she seems to be very friendly. She has never dealt with any of this before and it is something I can talk with her about since we were in thier position awhile back. This is the part I like about this life, the sharing and the friendships. Leave these gates and it's hard to find someone else who has been in these shoes, but here most everyone has experienced war and the effects of it. If they haven't, they soon will.

2007-07-09T17:22:00.000-07:00

There is nothing more frustrating than knowing a free pre-viewing of the new Harry Potter movie will be showing here on post in two hours and I do not have tickets. I was told there would be a separate line for people who don't have tickets, if there is any room left. That's a big if. Two hours ago the line of ticket holders reached clear around the building.

Summer is driving me crazy, but I do love the weather. We are actually getting sunshine and heat in the high 80's (for a few days anyway) but with children running around bored and cranky, and with my life on hold until the fall, I have started counting the days down until September.

Excuse me as I wipe down this keyboard. Sticky fingers were all over it.

The other day I watched the fireworks here on post. Beautiful as usual. Fort Lewis always goes all out for the fourth of July. Big celebration all day with civilians coming in by the bus loads, booths and entertainment abound, even a carnival for the kids. Every year I stop by the enlisted spouses booth to buy something to show my support, even if I did just spend two bucks on some ice cream this time.

Later my husband and I had some friends over for a BBQ and they brought fireworks for after the show. We had the neighbors watching with us until midnight and with every explosion in the sky, I knew it was like a personal invitation for the MPs to show up. Eventually they drove past and I know they saw us, but they never stopped to spoil the fun. Good boys.

During the fireworks show at the stadium, we sat on the crowded track, lounging on an old quilt and lawn chairs, along with half of Washington's population. After wasting money on deep fat fried twinkies and sour lemonade, the show began. I tried to listen to the familiar tunes of Toby Keith in the background as he sang of America kicking ass, and to Lee Greenwood's pledge to never forget the men who have died for our country. I tried to feel the excitement so many others felt as they cheered with each thunderous burst in the sky, or ooohed and ahhhed with every cannon shot off by the soldiers up front.

I tried.

Instead I found myself thinking about the soldiers in Iraq. The true Americans who wear the uniform and who swore to do thier job, no matter what it may entail. My mind drifted to them and to that very moment in time that I knew we shared, me and the whole Fort Lewis population sitting there underneath the darkened skies, and the soldiers who left us to go to that God forsaken country.

I wondered what they were experiencing at that moment so far away, as I sat safely on this army post here on American soil. I said a quiet prayer for them, that no more would die, as far fetched as that may have been.

I felt the tears in my eyes and knew that this year it wasn't for the pride I have for my country, or for the gratitude I typically feel for my freedom. Instead, it was for the soldiers over there, missing the peace and safety offered in this country that I and so many others take for granted. It was for the ones who have died and for the ones who may still. It was for the soldiers, just people like me and you, who are doing what they have to do to come home to thier families.

It was my plea to God to just be with each one of them until he brings them safely home to us, where they belong.

2007-06-29T23:29:00.000-07:00

Without going into much detail, I poked my first victim today. It involved three soldiers, four needles, and several attempts to hook up an IV. The minute they found out I am pre-nursing, they insisted on teaching me how to give one.

I did actually get the vein every time, I just didn't really know what to do after that. I suppose mixed directions given to me all at once by one guy who does everything 'by the book' and another who 'does it his own way' was part of the problem. As bad as I felt for drawing blood several times and causing my victim to slightly squirm with each...well, I also loved every minute of it. I always wondered if I'd be able to handle poking a needle into someone elses skin.

True, this guy had what he called thick skin which he said would make it more difficult, but his veins were also nice and plump, so poking the hole was a breeze for me. What made me feel bad was the fact that he already had a good ten needle holes in him from earlier and I added four more. When I first saw him, he was experimenting with what they called a kool aid IV on himself. Yes, that meant a bloody one. On purpose. Some of these guys are really into thier jobs. And they are good. My husband said not to worry, my victim has been through much worse.

They informed me we will keep at it until I get it perfect.

Ahh, the perks of being a military wife, surrounded by soldiers who do things that are sometimes unorthodox and that would rarely be allowed in the civilian world, who decide once in awhile to bring you along for the ride.

2007-06-20T15:46:00.000-07:00

Things are changing quickly around here. Trees are chopped down. New buildings built. Even the lodging is just about finished now. New faces abound and I have figured out many of them belong to the latest Stryker brigade soldiers, as well as trainers from Warrior Forge (ROTC). I see them at the PX food court on thier lunch hour, but I've yet to see any cadets there. I'm sure they will find thier way to a few momets of freedom and fresh air, as soon as they are finished getting thier asses kicked by thier instructors and the enlisted soldiers who help train.

I recently saw a group of cadets at the ranges learning how to throw grenades. It still strikes me as odd that I can have two little girls in the back seat of the car with me and we drive on through the middle of soldiers training like no big deal. Just part of this miltary life, I guess. At least we aren't like the Iraqi families- real war all around us. If anything, I feel extremely safe here.

Empty cars are still parked in giant parking lots enclosed in wire fences and I wait for the day when thier owners come home from Iraq to pick them up. They've been sitting out there to damn long. A sign outside one of the post grade schools thank the MP's for protecting the school kids over the past year. Boots hang on wires, even in this neighborhood. So many memorials at the post chapel this month for soldiers who have died in Iraq and there's a grave feeling of anger, frustration, sadness in the air. Or maybe it's just me...I see the widows with thier faces crumpled in unbearable pain and it scares me.

There are celebrities lining up to visit the post in hopes of cheering up soldiers and families, and to possibly help thier own image out a bit. Seattle Seahawks for the football fans, half dressed no-name women for the lonely guys, a few singers like Fall Out Boy and Paul Wall. Montel Williams is supposed to have a show at the post theater soon. Pirates of the Carribean AND Shrek 3 showing at the same theater all in the same weekend for only 99 cents? I'll buy the child size soda and popcorn with extra salt and butter for three bucks, share it with my girls and still not be able to finish all of it.

A carnival recently drove into town, all six rides and toothless grinning workers, trying to steal our money. We didn't look twice at them, but I did fall victim to the Commissary's version of a farmers market, where I bought mangos, cherries, peaches and so much more fruit and vegetables that we couldn't possibly eat all of the produce in time before it rotted away. We were very healthy for a few days there.

My husband attended my graduation potluck and since he snuck away from work, he wore his ACU's, which always makes me proud. A little boy of about five or six was in such awe of my husband that his mother explained to us that he was always playing soldier and war. I personally knew this mother to be a strong liberal as well as anti-war, but she let her son sit next to my husband for lunch, and after he visited with the little boy, he gave him the patch from the right sleeve of his ACU's. It was the lightning patch from when my husband served in Iraq as part of the Stryker brigade. The little boy's eyes lit up and though I don't know how the mother felt, my husband later told me he was planting the seeds for that little boy to grow up and join the military someday. I just laughed and hoped his mother didn't mind.

But the truth is, if everybody is anti-war and won't join the military, how will this country stay free and protected? Some people just don't think about that.

2007-06-15T02:53:00.000-07:00

Come on, sleep...kick in. Knock me out. Take me anywhere but here. Finals tomorrow and I'm wide awake. My husband has his friend over because tomorrow is a day off and though they are trying to be quiet, I'm still alone in bed. Might be why I'm wide awake. Can never sleep when he's not next to me. I swear I was awake his whole deployment. I think tomorrow is a day off because of the Army's birthday? Who knows. Tonight was the Army ball and I didn't get to go because of...finals. (I think I aced that test though.)

My husband claimed he got us tickets but I never saw them so I don't think he really did. He was never big on any of that. We went to one infantry ball a few years ago and that was interesting. My husbands platoon sgt ate a ball of butter thinking it was a sugar cube. Of course he was drunk off his ass by then. I'm pretty sure everyone was. At first everything was so formal and lame, then the officers got off the stage and the night kicked in.

My friend went with her husband to the Army Birthday Ball tonight. She borrowed a pair of sexy black heels and some nailpolish from me. I bet she looked gorgeous. I'm sure I'll hear all about it this week end.

2007-06-12T18:03:00.000-07:00

I drove my daughter's little friends home after some playtime at our house. Some neighborhoods around here shine while others look a little run down. Clothes out on the line, trash here and there. Bricks from hell, broken windows and torn screen doors. Of course the lawns are mowed, but even with a free maintanence service here on post, people don't always jump at the chance for immediate repairs. One things for sure though, nice cars and big, expensive trucks abound. Most kids do walk around in decent clothes and have the latest toys, so clearly Uncle Sam is still giving our husbands a paycheck.

My husband and I went to the civilian range here on post the other day. I really enjoy shooting. Who would have ever guessed? He bought a rifle for me awhile back from a local company that makes weapons for the Army and got it at a discount price as well. I always thought women who enjoyed that sort of thing were tomboys, but I think I'm the furthest thing from it. Toss me some ballet shoes or an AR-15 rifle and see me smile anyday.

2007-06-08T23:14:00.000-07:00

I rarely drink or party or play much. I'm always responsible and careful and punctual and I go to class and do what I know I should to keep life on one smooth course of smiles and peace and accomplishments and achievements and goal reaching and God fearing and 'Hey Mom look, I'm still a good girl' and 'Yes, my love, stay in the Army, of course my love, go to Iraq'.

I believe the sweet taste of some delicious Washington Apple will be on my lips in the near future...

2007-06-03T23:49:00.000-07:00

My husband recently reenlisted. They gave ME a certificate for his reenlistment. Again. I suppose that entitles me the right to ask this question: Are we crazy? Or are we just crazy?

I watched the new TV series Army Wives on Lifetime tonight. I think it might do okay. Some of the story lines were a bit unrealistic and the enlisted wives were portrayed trashier than they should have been. (I know some very NON trashy, highly educated enlisted wives, and have met some officer wives that begged one to wonder which rock her husband found her under.) I guess the general public expects all officer wives to be well behaved, classy, and perfectly groomed. That's okay. Maybe that means we enlisted wives can get away with a bit more- I'll try walking around in my thongs at the next ball, too, and see what happens.

One of the characters from the show, Roxy, is spunky and fits the image of many women I know. She'll be fun to watch as she learns the ropes. In one scene, some wives took Roxy to a bar offpost and mentioned something about the guys being better looking offpost. To that I'll say, "Since when?!" How about telling guys off post to get a haircut and learn some discipline? That was actually insultive- the writer forgot it's OUR husbands who are on post.

There was a scene where a wife is trying to learn some army acronyms. We learn them, we know them all.

There was a tea party. I have never heard of a tea party in the past five years so that was a bit absurd, although I suppose some old fashioned wife may have thrown one in the real world...somewhere. (Yeah right.)

Abuse? Sure. Separation? Constant. Gossip? Yes, unfortunately some wives truly have no life so they like to invent lives for others, as if we don't have enough drama going on as it is!

Multiple children from multiple men? Better believe it. I know women who tell me that Joey's daddy is stationed in Korea, Suzie's daddy is in Iraq, and the unborn baby's daddy is named Jodie. Okay, maybe they don't go around bragging about it, but sometimes the truth does get out. I wonder if a future story line will include the squad 'sharing' wives that you hear about every now and then?

What I do hope the show remembers to portray are the many, many women who are not only armywives, but normal, good women living life with honest smiles and caring hearts. We do not all cheat. We are not all lazy or slutty or psychotic. We work, volunteer, go to college, raise our children and support eachother. We are just average everyday women, far away from home and family, terribly in love with a soldier, and thrown into a military lifestyle at wartime. We cope the best we can.

And now there is a television show about us for all of America to watch.

2007-05-26T23:31:00.000-07:00

I saw the advertisement in the post newspaper days ago about a BBQ for the enlisted spouses and children. There would be free hot dogs, activities and a big blow up bouncy toy. Hmmm. Questionable, but with little else to do around here, I thought I would take my girls and give it a try. We arrived a bit late and I gave them a warning that we'd stay only for a little while.

The kids quickly found the hot dog stand and as they loaded up thier paper plates with what food was left, a hefty woman with a tired smile rushed up to them. I didn't expect her booming voice, which also startled my kids. Frustrated, she told them they'd had plenty of hot dogs already and there were other people here who hadn't had any. I bit my tongue as she glanced my way and stopped for a moment.

"Have you guys had any yet?" She thought to ask.

"Not at all, " I tried to smile, "We just got here."

"Oh! Um.. go ahead and eat," she said and turned away. I felt uneasy as it was and didn't bother with the food after that but told the kids to dig in. I brushed off the welcome as nothing personal and told myself she's probably just overworked. I glanced around briefly.

I have driven by this little building entitled 'Enlisted Spouses Club' for years and have often wondered what it holds. It's one of the buildings my dad may have seen while he was here for basic training during the Vietnam war. A building that is tangible proof officer wives and enlisted wives are still very separated, despite the cries of equality amongst wives. A little old building that when standing in the middle of its lawn, I can see the helicopters in the airfield, the glare off the PX windows, and a small hill full of trees and family housing.

Before me, small groups of women and thier children sat around several tables in the sunshine and breeze, snacking on cake, chips and pasta salad. A midsize blow up bouncy house was crowded with older kids jumping on each other while a young mother stood holding her toddler by the door, commenting how her youngster wouldn't get a turn because of all the older children. She walked away, irritated that no one acknowledged her comments. A table was set up with armywife crafts all spread out. Little thimbles and armywife T shirts were readily for sale in hopes of adding to the spouses financial fund.

I noticed with just the thirty or so wives gathered nearby, what a large variety we had. Some were overweight, some were thin. Various colored skin. Most wore jeans or pants and a few felt the urge to dress skimpy despite the windy weather and lack of soldiers present. Most of the facial expressions were the same. Slightly tired, slightly bored. Could this really be the grand enlisted army spouses club? A worn little building and not enough hot dogs?

Is this really all we're worth even though we send our husbands off to war and pray that we will see them safe again, as we do our part in taking care of the kids and the bills and the loneliness, or when we send our soldiers care packages and smile during the day only to cry in our pillows at night, so people in this country may continue to shop in safety, attend the churches of thier choice, or vote for the politicians of thier liking?

Does the American majority even really care? And then I noticed something else, something I see in myself as well as in many faces of the other wives: we don't do it for them. We do it because we are proud of our husbands and the unique lifestyle we live. We do it because there is nothing like pulling on those dogtags late at night to bring our soldiers lips to our own, and listening to thier humorous or devastating stories after a long day at work or a long year in Iraq. We do it for the homecomings, and so our children may have a future. We do it because despite its overflowing flaws, we still value this God given country. And we do it because despite the petty small stuff, we are all sisters in this trying, rewarding army life both inside the gates and around the world.

2007-05-08T20:25:00.000-07:00

Another friend has moved away. I didn't let myself get to attached to this one. She needed a shoulder to cry on and of course I was there, but I knew she would be leaving soon and left it at that. I hate how I can convince myself to feel very little inside when the truth is, I just want to cry. Another good friend and I have decided that when our husbands deploy or get sent to Korea at the same time, we will meet up and share a place in Hawaii for awhile, near one of the bases there. It almost eases the fear and stress just a bit. Almost.

My husband's unit was in the DFAC bombing in Mosul two years ago where six of his Stryker brothers died. A friend of mine whose husband's unit is in Iraq now has been waiting anxiously after hearing about six Stryker soldiers who got killed the other day. It's been unbearable for her. And what do you do when you find out it isn't him? Be relieved that it was someone else? This is all screwed up. I can only pray for the families and hope they believe they will see thier Soldier again someday.

Fort Dix. I'm not the least bit surprised a plot like that was in the works. At least America has been protected since September 11, 2001. Certainly have to give that much to President Bush.

2007-05-05T18:21:00.000-07:00

My husband believes Barack Obama is going to become the next president. He also says he's the Anti-Christ. I might vote for him for that reason alone.

My husband is also a Constitutionist. I think he has finally won me over. No more Republican-Democrap-Conservative-Liberal-Let's-Make-a-Mess-of-America-Fuck-Fuck. Either you believe in and fully support the Constitution or you don't. I finally see the light.

The other night my friend stopped by in her cute little red sports car and after taking the top down, we went for a drive. (Another friend owns a Humvee but that thing is so big she can barely drive it. Her husband insisted they buy it, even though he deployed almost immediately afterwards and it is now thier only family vehicle. Go figure. Guys and thier toys.)

There really isn't a whole lot to do on this post. It's kind of empty now that so many soldiers are deployed and many families have gone home. But my friend in her little red sports car and I decided to go for a drive anyway. We let the wind blow through our hair and cruised around the airfield. We drove to the shoppette and back. Stopped at Burger King. Drove past the commissary...really, this place sucks and unfortunately we didn't leave post. I think the highlight of the evening was at the bowling alley, when I snuck in a Rob Zombie song (Living Dead Girl) on the electronic juke box and people actually thought I might be a stripper or something because why else would a girl be playing that song?

Nope, not a stripper, just know a good song when I hear one.

2007-04-28T13:35:00.000-07:00

A soldier in a silver Mustang pulled up along side me as I walked and informed me of a BBQ near the Ranger barracks, emphasizing the fact that depending on how 'hungry' I was, he could certainly take care of my needs.

No, they are not shy around here, never have been.

So when an armywife smiles, says thank you, and promptly walks away, she really doesn't mean to be rude- she's just running from temptation.

2007-04-27T15:39:00.000-07:00

I think I am going to love nursing. I know there will be moments that suck big time, but the opportunity to help others in time of need outweighs the suck by far. Really. I never knew how many people out there desperately need help and simply can't do it themselves. I'm thrilled to be there for them. In (pre-nursing) clinicals today, about ten of us girls doned our scrubs and went to 'work.' I loved every minute of it. I take classes with some really sweet people who are every bit as excited as I am to do this and after a fulfilling morning in clinicals, before heading to lab, we all went out to lunch together. Talk about causing a commotion.

I still think about joining the military, if I can come up with a good care plan. Crazy, I know. My views concerning the war are a bit weary but the bottom line is, this is the life I know and the people here are good. They are the only ones brave enough to volunteer to fight for this country and that says so much to me. If I can help sew up Joe or take care of a sick baby whose Daddy is at war, then that's what I want to do. If not, I'll happily be a civilian nurse at Madigan or the VA hospital. My friend is an RN there and connections are always a good thing.

I am looking forward to Armed Forces Day next month. Our sixth Armed Forces Day celebration on this post. (Sixth!) Pull out all the army toys and let the kiddies crawl all over them. Pretty fun. I'm still playing my game, the one called 'Where's my SF cousin?' He's still on this post and maybe I'll spot him at the Armed Forces celebration.

2007-04-14T13:00:00.000-07:00

Okay, so I know I don't have any say in the whole deployment extension department.

Damn it.

I'll do the best I can with all this.

2007-04-11T12:18:00.000-07:00

Dear Pentagon,

15 guarateed months is bullshit.

Didn't you see my memo about reinstating the draft? You can count this family out of the whole 15 month thing, if I have any say about it.

Time to try and salvage this family while we still have a fighting chance.

Fuck you,

Julie Anna Infantry Wife

The Lovely Shoppette / Combat Vet

2007-04-07T21:27:00.000-07:00

I waited in line at the shoppette, glancing at magazine covers, debating on whether I should buy the hot gum that burns the back of my throat and brings me to tears, or just settle on the mild spearmint. Before I could fully decide, my attention was caught by the thick accent of a large woman behind the checkout stand. She rang up the beer an eager soldier was buying and was teasing him all the while. I couldn't tell where she came from, which country she had left behind after hitching a ride with some lonely Soldier back to the States, but I didn't really care either. The shoppette hires so many foreign women anymore that it's certainly nothing new to hear a different accent with each visit there.

The next guy in line tossed a pack of cigarettes onto the counter and briefly held up his wallet to show his ID. She smiled at him, and I watched her eyes narrow as she drank in his youthful face and broad shoulders, clearly the blessings of p.t. and push ups. I vaguely wondered what she could possibly be thinking, she must have been about forty-five herself, hair dyed to dark, a few grays spitefully peeking out anyway. He must have been half her age as it was, but she didn't seem to mind and made no attempt to keep it a secret.

"I.D please," she whispered, her accent even more noticeable now, her voice low and sensual. The soldier sighed. Clearly he didn't have time for this.

"I just showed it to you," he complained.

The woman behind the counter pouted, her lower lip drawn low and exaggerated. "Please do not be mad at me, Soldier," she said flirtatiously. She then smiled coyly as she jutted out her ample chest, which had been cruelly shoved into a sparkling, low cut V neck, a size or two to small. The soldier held up his hands in quick defense and said he wasn't mad, not mad at all. She winked at him and grinned. He looked as though he just wanted to get his cigarettes and get out of there, which he did.

I was next in line. She barely glanced at me as she said in perfectly clear English and with slight annoyance, "How are you?"

She didn't flinch as I didn't answer. I knew she didn't care.

*******************************

My husband had a good friend over recently. They were in the same brigade in Iraq a couple of years ago and this guy had come home early from a gunshot wound. He got out of the army almost a year ago and we hadn't seen or heard from him in months. I was the first to realize who it was when my husband handed me his cell phone to see if I might know who had called. He left a brief message, calling my husband by his army nickname and telling him, "This is your fuckin' Daddy. Fuck. Give me a call back."

My husband couldn't quite place the voice. He left no name. I was the one who recognized the vaguely familiar hint of playfulness and sadness all rolled into one. The voice that was sloppy, young, too tired.

"I think it's ____, " I said after a few moments of silence as my husband unsuccessfully racked his brain. To many people from work call his cell phone. He looked at me as though I were a genious and called the number back. Within hours his friend was sitting in our living room.

I kept a low profile like I usually do when guys show up at our house to hang out. I managed a few glances and was scared at what I saw. His face was sunken, almost dirty. His eyes usually bright blue were now an empty grey, and his once tall, proud body seemed bent over and crumpled. Maybe it was just the way he walked now, the new way he carried himself.

This man, this soldier, who had bravely gone to Iraq in service for his country, who had been wounded there and brought back home, who had always been respectable and kind and who had a good heart ...now reminded me of a wounded child, a beaten dog thrown to the curb.

His hair was understandably longer now and he didn't bother to shave, which would have been no big deal because my husband does the same thing every damn weekend, except that I knew this was permanent. He never once looked me in the eyes, barely talked to me. He couldn't find a job or keep a girlfriend, he lost his car because he couldn't afford the payments. He has been living wherever he could find a place to sleep and was lucky enough to have found another friend willing to let him sleep in his garage for free. After almost a year he was just now finally getting a disability check from the Army.

I was glad to see them talk with each other like they used to, though they rarely mentioned anything about Iraq or the past. No mention of other guys from the company. Little talk of war or army, although my husband joked with him once by asking him when was he going to get back in?

"Never!"

He had answered to forcefully. Then, as an after thought, added it wasn't that he didn't want to join, but because he now had a hole in his leg and couldn't... I wondered how he even felt being back on post. He had looked around with an empty stare as we drove through the gates, maybe he felt something, maybe he didn't. I'm not even about to act as though I know.

My husband told me later they played HALO through out the night in a partial drunken state and that it released alot of stress for him, but no mention of his friend's feelings. I had gone to bed early that night, doing my own thing as usual.

He slept on the futon my husband had carelessly thrown onto the floor for him with some blankets from the closet. I always have extra blankets and clean pillows for this very reason. I thought about leaving out one of my favorite blankets for him to use that night, wondering if it might make him feel better, the way it makes me feel better when I bury my face in it or wrap my bare leg around its cold cotton late at night. It's what I do when the Army takes my husband away and I feel so alone. But I suddenly felt embarrassed at how childish it would appear and set the folded blanket back onto my bed. Besides, my husband knows it's my favorite and may have wondered why.

The truth is, I was afraid for him go back to that little corner of the nothingness he calls home, and he has no family other than a crazy ex girlfriend who lies to much. I wanted to tell him everything would be alright, but I knew that he would only call me a liar at any feeble attempt for me to open my mouth in pity. He already knew it wasn't really going to be alright. Since the war, he's looked as though he lost something essential inside that used to be there, something necessary for the simple act of living.

My daughters called him Uncle whenever he came over in the past. As we drove him home, they called him Uncle again and asked if we could keep him longer. I said we could adopt him. That he could be the son my husband and I never had, though we aren't more than a year or two older than him. I think that may have been the only time I made him laugh. My husband even laughed and I could tell he was playing with the idea in his head.

I watched as he slowly walked away, back to his cave.

I'm sure we'll see him again. After all, we're the ones who made him a double-frosted Zinger cake for his birthday a couple years ago. We're the ones who had him over with some other single soldiers for Thanksgiving, despite the fact that they broke my dining room chairs just days before the holidays during a crazy, drunken poker match. We're the ones he wants to have stay over when he someday gets that house and property he'd always talked about... We're the ones he calls every now and then when he needs to know someone still cares.

I hope someone still cares.

2007-03-31T21:23:00.000-07:00

I've been busy trying to keep busy. Life is constantly up in the air and I am finding out that I'm not the only one who has finally gone crazy. It's amazing. Once I open up and reach out to other wives, I realize there are so many others in my shoes, if not worse, so I don't feel so bad.

I have new neighbors. Oh yes, I have new neighbors. He has already cheated on her once since he got here a few weeks ago and she has informed me that he recently went to a swingers meeting without her. I think she might have gone with him, to be honest. Oh Lord. This wasn't what I had in mind when I said I would make my future new neighbor my new best friend!

One of my friends husbands is deployed again. For the third time. He's been home two years out of four, soon to be five. She is nearly at her breaking point, poor thing. We agreed today that if this war is going to keep on going then the draft needs to be put in effect. Let the rest of lazy ass America fight the good fight for our protection and our freedom. Do you hear me Bush? It's for a good cause so line 'em up and let 'em help out. Sounds good to some of the wives way up here on the West Coast. Why don't we really kick the shit out of the terrorists (because you know we can!) and then call it a day.

I'm bitter right now and really, it's okay. I also have my happy, proud moments like every good little Army wife should.

By the way, I no longer claim Oregon as my home state. I know there are still some good people there...but not very many.

2007-03-07T09:44:00.000-08:00

I know it's not Christmas, but here are a few of my favorite things...

My freedom.

My husband, of course.

Love me some ballet.

This toy. My husband bought it for me and is teaching me everything he knows.

Being a mommy.

Nursing.

This fat cat.

All things beautiful, poetic, and deep.

My future summer cottage in Europe.

2007-03-06T19:04:00.000-08:00

A new round of deployments. I hear some women say, "Well... this drama is going on in our lives so maybe he won't deploy..." Yeah right, you know he's going. Suck it up, start praying, and try not to cry to much in front of the kids. And you sure as hell better be faithful to him.

I took a much needed trip back to the tanning salon. The bubbly little blonde who always works there was there just the same. To be honest, she half scared me when I walked in. She was darker than last fall. Her face was an uneven brown and she actually had sun spots on it. I swear she's not over twenty. Unbelievable. Don't these women know when to stop? I get a light, even base tan and leave it at that. Just enough to look healthy and be able to wear something skimpy without blinding others. Even then I feel like I've committed a sin and will be punished by the skin cancer Goddess, for I assume she would be a woman.

The whole Walter Reed thing is interesting. I can't believe the Soldiers were being treated in such poor conditions. Wait, yes I can. Now Madigan is under an investigation as well to see what kind of conditions the Soldiers and families are being treated in. I'm curious to see what the results will be. I have very little complaints except for the extremely long waits and some of the wacky doctors. Although my husband's hospital gown was ripped the last time he was there... and the E.R. forgot about him and left him in a back room of the E.R. all night when he was supposed to be checked in as an inpatient and given a room in the Nurses Tower. ( I had gone home at midnight after they told me they were getting ready to move him.) He was so sick at the time that he ended up staying for a week and having surgery. Damn, maybe I'm just used to this place and think it's the norm.

The other night I was at a friends house offpost and they were all complaining about thier gynecologists in the civilian world. I have to admit some of the stories were pretty insane. One of the women said her OBGYN actually asked her out on a date after the exam. *gag* When all eyes turned to me to see what my story was, I really couldn't come up with anything. So when I said that my gynecologists are often male Soldiers (which really can be awkward) their countenances changed as they thought about it. I heard the comment, "Well that certainly wouldn't be bad..."

2007-03-03T10:56:00.000-08:00

For weeks now the guards at the gates have been reminding us that the post stickers on our car have expired and that we need to renew them. We knew that we had two months after the expiration date before we would be denied access to our home inside, so for some reason neither my husband nor I were in a rush to go to Waller Hall. Finally, on the last day of February, we got new stickers for the car. I even drove to the DMV and renewed the damn tags. What a feeling, knowing that I wouldn't be harrassed every time I drove throught the gates. As soon as I drove up to the guard, he didn't say a word about it. Instead, he smiled and reminded me that my ID expires next week.

Okay, maybe I need to be responsible and just get this stuff done. I used to be right on top of it, never even coming close to the expiration dates, but lately I just really don't care. We'll get to it when we get to it.

Well the sun is actually shining and I think I just might get off my ass to play a little baseball and double dutch with my girls.

2007-02-26T20:32:00.000-08:00

My husband is going to get another tattoo. One in rememberance of his fallen brothers from his old unit. I walked into a tattoo shop with him and we were instantly greeted by a lesbian woman with short moused hair and a greasy face. She sat on a leather couch, enjoying a movie with two women in it making out.

My husband talked to her a little but wasn't impressed with her artwork or her attitude. She seemed unsure about what he wanted or if she could even do it right. I tried not to notice her man-hands as she attempted to revise a picture to his liking. She clearly didn't use lotion or nail files very often. My husband got bored with her and turned to watch another artist finish a tattoo on a guy with a shaggy ponytail and faded tattoos across his hairy shoulders. The artist did surprisingly well for having to draw what looked like a picture of Jesus on his forearm. He was so impressed with his own work that he grabbed a camera and snapped some pictures to add to his collection.

I noticed behind the counter sat a boy who was about twelve. He looked rougher than a boy his age should look: piercings, dirty hair, and sharp cheek bones. On occasion he would glance over to see what we were doing. I tried to ignore his stare. I guess the mother-in-me felt sorry for him as I vaguely wondered, 'Why isn't he at home doing homework and getting ready for bed?'

My husband talked to the guys as I looked around. Constantine wire had been hung up like decorative border around the room, red 'blood' had been painted over the light fixtures, and posters of Marilyn and Betty and various other vintage pictures hung in the corner. I gaped at a graphic drawing of a giant blue dragon about to penetrate a human woman. Hmph. Typically I might have been offended but tonight I was more curious than anything. Could that really happen? I suppose if dragons were real...

The lesbian, aware that she wouldn't be needed anymore, turned to the computer and looked up some cheerleader's My Space website. The boy with dirty hair bragged to her that he was going to leave this hole and head to California. The man with the new tattoo and worn out tank top was still grinning, clearly impressed with his newest inked addition, as was the young rebellious artist.

My husband, looking more like a crisp cookie cutter Soldier than anything else, seemed very comfortable in these surroundings. Before the Army, he would have been one of these guys- crazy and carefree and aching to cause some trouble. I felt out of place as I glanced at my pale flowered tunic with the crocheted lace trim, jeans, and a matching sweater that modestly hung to my hips. My hair is straight and to-neat and even my manner can be prudish, or so my husband has mentioned before. He swears he's going to get me drunk off my ass before he deploys, just because it's long over due and it's just what I need. Maybe he's right.

My husband took thier card, but I could tell as I followed him out the door that he would check out other tattoo shops before choosing the right one. This isn't just any tattoo. This is one that has tremendous meaning. It will somehow honor his friends from work. The brothers he trained with, lived with, and fought with in Iraq. It is especially for the ones who didn't make it back. I am glad he's doing it.

2007-02-07T21:34:00.000-08:00

Sean Penn was outside of the post gates? There are protesters here? Watada's trial is right up the road? What? There's alot going on around here and I've been so clueless about it all. I always miss the excitement.

So I decided to drive to the scene of the crime and witness it myself. My husband was with me and I convinced him to take a different exit to get back on post just to see what the commotion was all about. Sure enough, a group of anti war protesters were gathered around the freeway exit right next to the post gates. I read their signs and watched them for a moment before I realized my husband gave a wave to the lone man standing to the side, carrying a big sign that read 'Jail Weasel Watada!'

I laughed as the man nodded back. I don't know how others around here feel about the whole situation (besides being to busy to really care) and I think Watada has a right to disagree with the war, but he also had an obligation to look aside from the politics and go to war with his troops like the other soldiers here do.

2007-01-13T10:03:00.000-08:00

My husband took this day to head to the mountains and go snowboarding with some friends. I'm jealous. Not that I've ever had the opportunity to do such a thing but I'd love to try it sometime. He warned me that I'd have to get stronger first so it wouldn't be so hard for me. I grabbed that moment to tease, "Are you saying I'm fat?"

Our neighbors moved a few weeks ago, which means we will be getting new ones soon. I hope we get along with each other. I'll do my best to befriend this woman because if and when my husband deploys, it's nice to have a good neighbor nearby. Hopefully she'll feel the same way.

I've had all types of neighbors since we moved to this duty station. Before we lived on post, we lived in a little apartment complex right outside the post gates where hookers, child molesters, and druggies prevailed. The apartment complex knew what a golden opportunity it was to snag military families brand new to the area (still clueless about the surrounding dangers) and trap them into a year long contract. The apartment manager seemed to clump alot of the military families together, each door and living room window only five steps away from the next, all lined up along a very long and dirty, covered cement porch.

An MP and his wife lived right next door to us with thier two children. I was a brand new armywife (completely naive and even a little stupid) and they had moved from a duty station out East. They only had a few months left before housing became available for them on post. The lady never once spoke to me or even smiled back. She had an evil eye and didn't like me much. I thought it was rude but figured she had her reasons and left it at that.

Soon after they moved out, two Infantry guys immediately moved in. As are many guys in the Infantry, they were both fresh-faced, lanky and laidback, always sucking on cigarettes and beer, and often talking with my husband. They all had terrible language but I was able to forgive them when my husband explained to me that the word Fuck really is a key word in the Infantry language- no harm intended.

One of the guys had a live-in girlfriend who was seventeen but looked about ten. The thing I remember about her, besides the fact that she was very quiet like me, was the time she asked to borrow our toilet plunger. I thought it was such an unusual request. Smiling as politely as I could, I told her to go ahead and keep it... I sure as hell didn't want it back. She always ran around in little clothes that had the pink Playboy bunny symbols on them. I don't think she realized how much of a young child she resembled. It seemed so contradictive.

The other guy, recently back from a year in Korea, was always finding a reason to knock on my door whenever he knew my husband was at work or out training (he was in the same Infantry brigade as my husband but in different companies). I was friendly to a point, but the fact that he had a pregnant fiance in Texas and would have various women over to his apartment at all hours was disturbing.

One night at about ten or so, I took the garbage out to the dumpster and they both came out to smoke a cigarette. Since they were friends with my husband, I wasn't to worried. I remember the one with a fiance in Texas asked me why in the hell wasn't my husband taking the trash out for me this late at night? He was trying to act concerned and said he would be more than willing to help me with anything at any time. He told me he would take out the trash, do whatever I wanted him to do... just come knock on his door at anytime, even in the middle of the night.

"Thanks..." I mumbled, then asked honestly, "But why?"

I remember the air seemed dark and chilly, choking in around me as he smiled and leaned in to close, until his friend stopped him.

"Come on, man..."his friend said nervously,"Just don't." Then glancing at me in disbelief, said a little to forcefully, "He's up to no good."

I felt a little embarrassed that he had to spell it out for me. Part of me believed this guy was just nice, but suddenly I knew better. I quickly nodded and said goodnight to them before walking the few steps back to my front door. That incident left me on the cautious side after that. How could he pretend to be my husbands 'brother' all the while not giving a true fuck about him?

I've had several other neighbors since. A military couple who lived together out of convenience. Well, he was getting what he wanted, she was paying ALL the bills as well as childcare for her one year-old son from a previous relationship with some Soldier in Korea. I remember she finally kicked that bum out. I always admired her for her strength and independence, and the fact that she sported that uniform around, even if she did have poor taste in men. She never dated just a man, always a Soldier, and I coudn't blame her for that. Eventually her enlistment ended and she took her son to New York to live near her Mom. Sometimes I wonder how she's doing.

I've had other neighbors, some who ended up being my closest friends. My best friend from Alabama whom I've written about here was the one girl I could trust with my life. Her husband was in the same company as mine so we had alot to talk about, often helping each other fill in the missing gaps as wives do when you only get partial information about your husbands job or schedule. At nighttime, I'd knock on the bedroom wall of our duplexes and we'd meet at the front steps to talk or just watch the stars above. Once in awhile we'd watch in awe as the helicopters flew close overhead. So close in fact, you'd catch yourself ducking just to stay safe and have to laugh about it afterwards.

And then there is my more recent neighbor whom I've written about here as well. I've had some memorable moments with that girl. I'd never met such a screwed up party girl in my life and her Infantry husband was just as bad. But they were also so kind and friendly and welcoming to everyone, as long as you were on thier good side.

I think she had done just about everything horrible an Infantrywife could ever imagine doing...and amazingly her husband was still right there by her side. Except, sadly, at one point he'd been injured in Iraq and she was to shitfaced and 'busy' with other Soldiers to even know what the phone call was about. That pissed me off when I found out about it later, but I was still torn when she moved, and very relieved. She said she wanted to stay in touch and get together once in awhile, but again I knew better. Besides, I'm so tired of goodbyes that I didn't even say it this time. It was easier to just look the other way.

So when yet another one of my friends recently moved to Ft Bragg and she never said goodbye, I completely knew why. It's always goodbye in this world, and yet we know that it's never really goodbye. It's 'see you around some time' and if not, well, thanks for the memories.

2007-01-07T16:58:00.000-08:00

I need to cover up that hole in the wall. I have no idea what kind of picture to hang there, or what furniture to move, right at chest level in the kitchen. Nothing would look quite right. Something set off my husband the other day and there was really no stopping him. No fully understanding him. Just nervously waiting for the time to tick by. Again. I told him today that a hole in the wall just doesn't look very nice and besides, how in the world am I going to explain that one to housing? He bluntly commented that he would take care of it. I said nothing else after that. What is there to say anyway?

The kids and I actually went to church today. Well, part of it. I try to go once in awhile for a little peace of mind and I like that I am surrounded by other Army wives. It's nice to listen to them talk and laugh, and share lessons of hope and faith. Many of thier stories sound like my own. Sometimes I get so caught up in my own little world that I feel as though I am looking through glass, forgetting to talk to others and often forgetting that I am not the only one married to the military. It's refreshing to get together with other women who can smile and have faith even when thier husbands go to war.

I was asked awhile back to help with the FRG in my husbands unit. I would love to do it if I could run it the way it needs to be run. So many women could benefit from the support and friendship. It could be a tremendous source of strength to fall back on, if only everyone could see it as such. To many women use it as a social status, backstabbing, BS opportunity and I have never been interested in those games. I turned down the offer.

2007-01-05T23:04:00.000-08:00

My husband and I went to the Credit Union today to deposit a check and before we even reached the counter, the lady behind it said we were pre-aproved for a thousand dollar credit card. I quickly spoke my first thought, "But you don't even know who we are, how can we be pre-approved?" She just smiled and shrugged, obviously I had a point.

Within minutes we had a brand new credit card in our hands. It seems as though the minute a business finds out my husband is in the military, they are all over us, wanting to give us credit and take our money in the long run. Normally we wouldn't have accepted the card (because we both know how quickly we would max it out- those big screen TV's at the PX have been screaming at us for awhile now) but we took it this time to hang onto in case of an emergency. I think we will be responsible and not use it...much. We finally get to pay off that damn Star card this month. By the way, that 'wonderful' Star card is a crock of shit. They put the majority of each payment towards the interest-free military clothing side, meaning very little of your retail side (with all the interest) ever gets paid off. So pay extra each month!

I've become obsessed with the poem The Lady of Shalott and the way Loreena McKennitt turned it into a beautiful eleven minute song. I can't help but get lost in the gaelic music and the words that temporarily take me anywhere but here. Poor lady...in love with a knight she could never have, so desperate for just a glance of what should have been, followed by certain death. Somehow this armywife life is making me a hopeless romantic. I'm lucky enough to have my wartorn knight by my side each night...for now anyway.

2006-12-31T11:58:00.000-08:00

Happy New Year! I'd like to say I enjoyed Christmas and for the most part I did, but I'm exhausted. Besides, time flies by so fast that it's almost not worth it. I noticed alot of people went home for the Holidays so it's been kind of dead around here.

We got hit by a nasty windstorm last week and there were trees knocked down all over. I think seven cars and 15 houses had trees fall on them just here on post alone. A huge tree in our yard fell just a few feet from the bedrooms. We had slept in the living room with the kids that night because we knew the trees were so close to our house and come midnight, I heard the loud roar of the winds and eventually the crack of the tree as it fell. I remember the fear and adrenaline I felt as I realized what was happening and I couldn't do a damn thing to stop it if it fell on the house. Thank God it didn't. The trees are certainly big enough that it would have done some serious damage.

We called lodging to try and get a room because we knew there were high wind warnings for the rest of the night and they have no trees around them, but they were already full of people who actually had trees fall on thier houses. I love storms, especially the wind storms we had in Utah, but this state isn't used to that kind of abuse and was little prepared for it. The post was one of the first cities to have power turned back on though. Some people in surrounding areas went without power for a week.

Saddam has been hung and buried. I'm thrilled yet disturbed at the same time. I'm just not used to hangings I guess. I had watched a Clint Eastwood movie with my husband at the hotel the other night and of course some men were hung. My stomach turned a little at the idea and then I came home to the news that Saddam Hussein was hung. Thank God he's dead but...wow. My husband joked about throwing a party in celebration. I'm just trying not to get sick at the whole idea of death and war and all the hell that people endure in this world.

2006-12-09T19:54:00.000-08:00

Lately training has brought some of the Soldiers onto the outskirts of the housing areas, which is rare to see. My daughter asked me why they had thier weapons out and I reassured her they wouldn't use them on us. I told her this is an Army post we live on and though it's our home, it's also thier training grounds. At least they waited until after all the little army brats walked home from school before driving thier vehicles around. I picked my husband up early and accidentally got caught in the middle of a battle area. They set up a road block and questioned me. It was good practice for them and honestly, it added a little excitement to my day. I wasn't nearly as annoyed as when I have to pull over to get the car searched at the post gates, with drug sniffing dogs and all.

I know my husband was only gone for a week, but even after just a week they look so delicious when they come home. I couldn't take my eyes off him. Later on he told me the same thing and had asked himself who was this supermodel picking him up? Maybe he needs to go away more often if it's got him paying me compliments like that when he gets home! Okay, maybe not.

My husband loves his job and I'm excited for him. He's got alot going for him and the road ahead finally looks hopeful. It's about damn time. I feel better about everything too. I realized that sometimes I get to obsessive-compulsive with everything and maybe, just maybe, I could relax. (Being a control freak and an armywife doesn't mix very well.) It is nice to not care so much about the negative and it opens up a window for the positive in my life. I can even kind of grasp the idea that my husband wants to go back to Iraq. He has some personal reasons to go back and I know his friends deaths has something to do with it. Personally, all this death has caused me to hate the Army and this war. It wasn't a long-lived hatred, but I still listen to anti-war songs more often...the ones that sing of unrealistic world peace and love. But please shoot me before calling me a hippie.

I have forms to fill out. A small stack of papers handed to me by the recruiter I visited the other day. The recruiter who will take me up to MEPS because he said I can get my LPN in the reserves or active duty and get my school loans paid back. Straight up, no bullshit. My Army Nurse dream is sitting in my lap and I have a serious problem: There is no family-who-cares for the family care plan. I can' t believe I have a chance to grab this opportunity and make it mine, but I may not be able to do it.

2006-12-04T12:31:00.000-08:00

I couldn't help but wave to the Soldiers on the Strykers as they drove up the freeway the other day. Most everyone here is military related so we don't even blink anymore, but every now and then I like to remind them that they are appreciated. I'll wave like a crazy girl, acting as though I've never seen one before. They smile and wave back, so it's worth it.

I read later in the newspaper that some lady had flashed her boobs at them. Let me just say that WAS NOT ME.

The Past Few Days

2006-11-29T22:23:00.000-08:00

Such short hair under that beret.
And rare laughter.
Snow in the forecast.
A hot bath.
I put on something sexy.
You take off your combat boots.
The kids play
While we make dinner.
The tree is beautiful.
The cat is still to fat.
I called mom.
Your mom called.
Doesn't that crockpot stew smell so good?
Shh...close your eyes.
I want to kiss you.
Laundry is done.
The bills are paid.
CNN. Just to much.
Seahawks. Just to loud.
Commissary.
We need groceries
And more hot cocoa.
Finals next week.
More Army-issued ibuprofen 800
For the both of us.
Lipstick.
Red Door.
Lock the door.
Now go to sleep.
Oatmeal and orange juice.
Children's library books
And lunch money.
You shoot out orders.
While I learn about Rxn's.
Warm blankets
And a long talk.
Listen...it's Silver Bells.
Watch the snow fall.
Close your eyes again.
Doesn't God hear you?
Then where is he?
Gray Fort Lewis skies.
You take my hand.
I don't let go.

2006-11-12T17:34:00.000-08:00

Yesterday was Veterans Day and those with Military ID had free access to a few different museums in Tacoma. I took my daughters to the Art Museum and actually had a nice time. Alot of times spouses and family members aren't allowed free access to anything off-post, while the service member is, so it was nice to feel a little appreciated yesterday. I know we aren't the Veterans and I won't even try to compare with being one, but we do sacrifice alot. I got my husband a Veterans Day card that told him how cute he looks in his uniform...and out of it.

Afterwards I dropped the kids off at home and went to the annual Holiday Bizarre here on-post. It wasn't to bad. Alot of crafts, both military and holiday related, but some things were just to overpriced. I bought a patriotic Christmas tree ornament and a bag of homemade pumpkin muffins, disappointed that everything else I wanted either cost to much or was already sold. As I looked through the goodies, I overheard wives laughing about being bored and wishing they could go 'play' without it looking bad. They have to be careful about where they go and who they are with so thier husbands overseas won't worry. It was nice to hear them talk like that. I don't always meet women who feel that way.

I met a lady who has made over 60,000 military heartstones-the ones you rub when you're worried. I was given a couple when my husband deployed and I gave one to my mother-in-law. The lady was very friendly and gave me a heads up about going overseas. I felt guilty not buying anything from her table.

I always thought I would sew quilts and make cookies when I'm a little old Grandma, but lately I've been thinking about starting sooner than that. I already make cookies. Sadly though, I can't even thread the sewing machine my mother bought me a couple of years ago (much less sew anything) and she has tried to show me several times how to thread it. My sister bragged to me that she started a cross-stitch scarf, then later admitted that it looked more like a screwed up afghan than a scarf. I just don't think either of us got the sewing genes.

I witnessed a hit and run here on post. Just a vehicle that hit a parked truck and took off, though there was some pretty decent damage done to it. It was dark but I did get the license plates number and there just happened to be some MP's nearby so I told them what I saw. Little did I know it would involve extensive paperwork and multiple trips back to the PMO for me. I think it had to do with the fact that the MP's would forget something and call me back to fill out more paperwork. Oh well. The owners were certainly grateful. I know I would be too.

Another friend is moving. This one is going to Fort Bragg. Her husband has been here four years and has deployed three times so far and he's not even Infantry. Thier last baby was born during his last deployment. Nothing to uncommon around here.

Breezy...Hope all is well with you. Keep in touch, K?

Where Would You Like to Go?

2006-11-08T22:05:00.000-08:00

My husband is in the reenlisting process and has been fighting for a new duty station for weeks now. I went in with him the other day and the re-up Sergeant there said that he gets scared when the wives come in, so he asked us where we want to go. I didn't even say a word- just an occasional uncomfortable smile or two. I'd like to pat myself on the back, but I'm sure it had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the re-up guy being in a good mood and deciding to help Joe (and Joe's family) out at that particular moment by simply picking up the phone and talking to someone who has the power to make things happen. Of course nothing is definate in the Army until it is actually happening, but let's just say it looks like we could be moving in the next several months and quite possibly leaving this country. Fingers are crossed.

I don't understand how I could have gone from loving the Army and this post for five straight years to suddenly overnight being so tired of it all that I ripped off the Armywife-US Army license plate from my car and threw it away. I do regret doing that. Now I have to go buy another one...sometime. My husband thinks I have finally been baptized into this life and somewhat see things the way he does. Except he loves this life and doesn't want to leave it. He reminds me that we both have been personally affected by the death of a good friend and the reality of this war, though he's lost many more good friends from it. He feels the need to keep fighting for them, and for our country. I'm definately proud of him, I admire him. But God knows it's not easy at times. Maybe three years of overseas travel will reawaken my passion for this Army adventure.

Just Keep Busy...Just Keep Busy

2006-11-04T13:04:00.000-08:00

I lost three pounds over night after pilates class. You bet I'm sore and smiling.

With my husband so busy and school overtaking my life, I think I have fallen into a mild depression. I refuse to see a doctor about it. The last 'doctor' I went to didn't even have a decent degree and wanted to offer drugs after only five minutes of talking. I literally laughed and walked out of his office mid-sentence. There's got to be a better way to feel good on this monotonous post.

I've decided to convert to the Classic Army Wife Way of Life (it is tried and true) and attempt to keep busy with interests that I've had to set aside in the past. When I was young, my dad brought home an archery set and taught me how to shoot the arrows into bales of hay on our property. I loved it, but gradually let it go. I've always said I would go back to it. Maybe now is the time.

My husband said he will buy me a gun. I think I've finally harrassed him enough and he's really going to help me do it this time. I requested one with a silencer but I could tell by the look he gave me that probably won't happen. I can't believe I live on an army post and have never been out to the range for target practice. That is definately number two on my Army-Wife-Keep-Busy-List. I am also going to sign up for ballet again as soon as my classes end this term and what better way to get into the mode than to take pilates as well?

After pilates, I drove to the shoppette to rent a movie and grabbed Over the Hedge to watch with the kids. What was I thinking? Friday nights the lines are never-ending and full of drunk soldiers buying more beer. I quickly set the dvd down, knowing it wasn't worth waiting half an hour in a line that reeked of alcohol and horny 18 year olds.

Friday night...no friends nearby to play with...no movie to watch...just a slice of spinach pizza on my plate and a husband passed out on the couch.

Guess I'd better get back to that A & P book...the one that weighs a hundred pounds. I try not to complain to much. I know it's going to take me places.

2006-10-10T18:39:00.000-07:00

I wonder if military wives gravitate towards each other without realizing it. I sit by a girl in one of my off-post classes whom I have met before in a previous class. We didn't know much about each other, but it just kind of worked out that we would sit together this time. We started out by being terribly polite to eachother, and have recently begun to chat like old friends only to find out that both our husbands are in the Army. It was like an instant bonding, knowing that we both understand what life can be like for the other. We don't have to explain ourselves, or explain our unusual life, or why our husband is away, or how we don't really know where to call home, because we both already know. It can be nice accidentally bumping into a fellow Army wife.

There is the exception of course. I have come across wives who clearly enjoy this life for all the wrong reasons. I met a girl once who invited me over while her husband was deployed. She told me all about the bars she goes to and how she likes to participate in the string bikini contests with her friends in front of guys. She then looked at me with obvious hope that I would jump up and down in excitement and come along. I tried not to judge to harshly, but I also realized that if word got around to my husband that I was hanging out with women like this while he was deployed, it wouldn't go over well. I lost contact with her pretty quickly.

My neighbor is another case. She freely admits that she cheated regularly and so have all her other friends. I remember the days when her husband was deployed and Soldiers would come out of her house on thier lunch breaks. She claims not to do it anymore and has even asked her other friends to keep thier Secret Rendevous a little more secret. She says she wants no part of it anymore. That's one New Years Resolution I hope she can keep.

I know there are women who are faithful to thier husbands in the military. I know there are women who are true friends to each other. Sometimes they seem to come far and few in between, and that's why I still have the phone number of a sweet Southern girl, whose husband was in the Army with mine, hanging on my fridge. She was the kindest, truest friend I've ever had and she cherished her husband the same way I do mine.

We shared so many fun times together and we would often take turns watching her 'stories' or my GH on TV. I was there for her when she cried because she found out she was pregnant (even though it was planned) and I was there soon after she gave birth. We shared food and desserts- I loved her homemade greens and she adored my chocolate chip cookies- and we would sit outside together well into the late nights talking about everything. She was there for me when my husband deployed, and she took my kids when I went to the hospital to see him arrive after getting injured. She was, and still is, a rare find. When she moved back home to Alabama, part of me was left to try and figure out how to continue living on this post without her.

I met a new wife the other day. She seemed nice. Well, as nice as possible for just having a baby. Our husband's hang out together once in awhile and I met her while picking my husband up from thier house. The dog was running all over, the baby was crying, she was trying to sort laundry, the guys were oblivious to it all as the XBox blared, and I was ringing the doorbell while watching all this take place through the screen door. Poor thing. She forced a half smile, brushed her bangs from her eyes, and introduced herself to me, all the while looking as though she just wanted some more sleep.

We shook hands and I began the familiar small talk associated with meeting another Army wife, wondering if we'll have something in common besides the Army, and wondering if someday I might be able to call her Friend as well.

2006-10-04T21:29:00.000-07:00

College can be such a bitch. But with a degree finally coming this December, I'll try not to complain to much. I've learned quickly that there really aren't enough hours in a day and because of that, I often read my school textbooks late at night in bed with a flashlight in one hand and the other constantly pulling the down comforter up in between my husband and I, as not to wake him. I can only rotate between library desks, the Barnes and Noble coffee shop, and my kitchen table so many times before studying in bed becomes a welcomed change. I'm just excited for the real classes to begin.

Let's see... Life on the post. Well, I usually don't care what the hell Uncle Sam has going on around here, it's his place afterall, but I can honestly say I'm not thrilled that they dug up a batch of familiar trees near the commissary. Dug 'em up for what? A street? A building? Nope. I asked one of the workers today what they were going to put there and he pointed right across the street towards the giant recycling bins and said there's going to be a whole lot more of those. WHAT?!

Everyday my daughter is out front, jumping rope with the neighbor kids. I decided it was time to teach them how to double dutch and of course they were thrilled. Soon thier mothers were out front as well, wanting to learn. It really is addictive once you get the hang of it. Just picture a small group of Army wives shoving the kids out of the way and taking over the jump ropes. Yeah, we're bored.

Oh, Here I Am

2006-09-30T20:25:00.000-07:00

I'm not sure why I've lost interest in posting. Things are just different now. My husband has decided without a doubt to make the military his career and I have been supportive all these years, but these past few weeks I have found myself hating the Army with a passion. I've never been bitter before, not even while my husband was deployed. Not even when he was injured. I think after Sgt Henkes died, it finally hit me that the same thing really could happen to my husband too. Now he has more drive than ever to finish strong in the Army, he even talks of going back to Iraq with purpose, and I've been sitting back in the corner trying to deal with everything.

I think I'm finally peeking out from under the covers, looking around, realizing that things don't seem quite so bad anymore. I haven't lost faith in God. Life keeps on going, whether it should or not. Time has no sympathy, it keeps on ticking, making things of the past just that. And when I ask 'Why?' I am soothed by the answer, 'That is just how it is.'

My husband never even shed a tear because his Squad leader pounded it into him that he will always drive on- no matter what, and that is what he is doing. Maybe I can too.

An Afternoon at the PX

2006-09-17T17:52:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I braved the crowded PX to return a couple of school outfits that were to small for my daughter. As I walked by some booths, I recognized Topanga from Boy Meets World (Danielle Fischel) but I have no idea who the other lady was. I guess they were in a movie called Dorm Daze or something. I have to admit, I always admired Topanga's character, being the free spirited, strong 'woman' that she was, and to see her turn into some bimbo on a movie like that was disappointing.

I also noticed some NFL cheerleaders there as well. I'm not sure which team they were from and thier booth looked sadly empty compared to Topanga's and the other actress' booth. As I walked down an aisle, I saw one of the lone cheerleaders and she looked terrified as she tried to find her way to the others. Maybe she couldn't find the bathroom?

Before the PX we stopped at a bake sale near the entrance.

"Support our troops and thier families!" Smiled an enthusiastic woman. You mean support me? I thought to myself. I smiled back and let my daughter choose a brownie and I grabbed a homemade peanut butter cup. Delicious. I swear that must have been a Nestle recipe. On our way out, I handed her another dollar donation and told her it was so good I just had to buy another one. She gasped with excitement.

"Well, thank you!" she smiled. "You know, we are just finishing up so why don't you just take whatever you want..."

Happy day.

2006-09-08T18:26:00.000-07:00

I think I finally understand the dream I had the other day. It wasn't Ashlee Simpson who was upset, it was me. I do know one of the guys who died. I knew him well. He was the fourth soldier to be killed recently, from the current Stryker unit in Iraq. I saw on the news today that he was killed in Iraq on Sunday.

He was my husband's squad leader from years ago- the one who taught him all he knows- and he was our good friend. My husband had looked up to him for years. We used to go to his apartment for Squad BBQ's and he would play his guitar, while the guys would sing Green Day's 'Time of Your Life.' It was definately the squads theme song.

We saw him at the PX last spring, just before he was to deploy. Memories of the good old days flooded around as he and my husband talked. They shook hands as we parted ways, and I remember vaguely wondering if he would be okay over there, in Iraq.

Part of me truly believed he was invincible, but now he's gone.

I Can't Believe This Story

2006-09-04T06:07:00.000-07:00

A local National Guardsman was attacked and called babykiller after some thugs asked him if he served in the war. Don't these idiots know these Soldiers are just doing thier job? If they are so angry, they need to take it to the President, not beat up Soldiers. It's sickening. It should be mandatory for every young U.S. male to serve in the military for a two year stint. Not only would it teach some much needed discipline among todays little shits, but it would help fill empty military slots and give a deeper understanding of this life. After all, freedom isn't free, right? So let's let them gain a little respect and appreciation for the freedom they take for granted.

I saw Step Up the other day. Of course I couldn't let a dance movie slide by without seeing it. It was predictable, but enjoyable. I'm a succor for the good little rich girl/poor little bad boy stories, especially when it involves some delicious dancing.

After the movie, I felt as though I never left Baltimore (city where the movie was placed). I walked out the theater doors into the early Tacoma night and saw a bunch of wanna-be gangsta thugs in the parking lot and they graciously asked me if I wanted to score some drugs. None of it even fazed me. Either I have grown so cold and numb to everything that nothing can make me blink anymore, or I'm just stupid. Okay, maybe Tacoma doesn't even compare to Baltimore, but don't tell the little wanna-be fuckers that. Might hurt thier little feelings.

Dream I Had Last Night

2006-09-02T11:06:00.000-07:00

My husband and I saw Ashlee Simpson running out of a building, crying. She dropped a silver purse and as I picked it up, my husband went after her. I went through her purse and was disappointed that there was only 2 lipsticks, no wallet or ID. I did find a piece of paper with a blurry list of names of recent Soldiers who have died in Iraq. I tried to read off the names and got very sad, because I knew some of them were from the Stryker brigade that just went over there. When my husband brought her back, I handed her the purse and I found out that she was upset because she knew one of the guys who had been killed over there.

I woke myself up, as I kept repeating the names of the fallen Soldiers over and over again in my head.

Dream Analysis.

I have no idea why Ashlee Simpson was in my dream, except I did see a funny picture of her yesterday being compared to a horse. Usually I have 2 lipsticks in my own purse and have to search through my other purses to find my ID/wallet. I have been sad that the Stryker brigade that's currently over in Iraq lost three soldiers in the past week and a half, and even though I didn't recognize any of the guys, it still hits home. There is a memorial coming up this week and I have considered going.

Hey Harley

2006-08-16T21:52:00.000-07:00

My husband has decided to buy a motorcycle. We went to a Harley Davidson store the other day and looked at some. The bikes are beautiful, some more than others, black being a favorite color.

I've always been very cautious of motorcycles, knowing how dangerous they can be. We once had a neighbor hit a telephone post near our house and die, where the blood stains on the street haunted me for weeks afterwards. Though I'm the farthest thing from a biker chic, I rode on the back of one years ago under the moonlight, and loved the free feeling so much that it scared me. I more or less decided I would never get on one again.

I have to admit though, they still catch my eye. Whether it is an ACU-clad soldier riding in front of my car here on post, or an over-weight Vietnam vet, hair braided and gray, black leather jacket with a Screaming Eagle patch on the back riding a serious Hog down the freeway, they do demand attention.

My husband has always liked them. He rode his dad's motorcycle as a teenager and has many memorable experiences with it, mostly of sneaking off into the night, to go do God knows what. Only after his dad nearly died from a motorcycle accident did he abandon the idea of getting his own bike. I guess he really has wanted one all these years after all.

He has an upcoming appointment to go motorcycle shopping, about the only kind of shopping he will do. He already has an expensive pair of Harley Davidson leather boots, so I guess he needs a bike to go with them. The Soldier who lost those boots when they flew out the back of his speeding truck is still probably kicking himself to this day. My husband waited days for that guy to come back and claim them, and since he never showed, my husband has given them a good home. Perfect fit, after all. Of course, I couldn't leave the store empty handed. I got myself the cutest pair of black leather boots too. They remind me of tanker boots, only feminine. Who knew Harley could do it?

Cruel Summer

2006-08-09T07:15:00.000-07:00

Life on the old post is as slow as ever. It really is a cruel summer.

Highlights around here? Not much.

So far this summer I saw Carly Goodwin perform her country song 'Baby Come Back Home' and I got an autographed painting by Thomas Kinkade. Both came here to visit. I knew Jenny McCarthy was coming and I thought about meeting her just to see how goofy she really is, but I forgot.

We did watch an awesome 4th of July fireworks show here on post, also open to the public. It was certainly better than two summers ago when my husband and I got in a huge fight that night for all the visiting civilian world to see. He was literally weeks away from deploying and we weren't handling the stress very well. I think we terrified everyone, and they probably thought I was one of those abused armywives or something.

This summer my husband and I discovered Blue Max, a tiny family-run nearby meat market that makes the best homemade sausages. Garlic and pepper, or pineapple and mozzarella cheese mixed in a sausage always makes for a better BBQ. This is also the summer I have learned to make my Mom's delicious potato salad.

My kids, still waiting for that one week of hot weather to come back and turn itself into a real summer, run around daily in thier swimsuits with other armybrats, spraying eachother in the faces with a hose. I was not happy to find out that my youngest handed out five clean towels to the other kids. No wonder I never have any towels around here. They always take them home.

I still find myself laughing at the half-dressed girls who pile on makeup and look absolutely cheap, as they always find a way to get on post (more so in the summertime) and hunt down the closest set of barracks. They can sometimes be found walking on the side of the road heading towards the barracks, or if they are lucky they will have already found a date and can be seen waiting in the drunk line at the shoppette, hanging all over thier Infantryman-of-choice for the evening. Can't really blame them though, can you? Find a cute one, marry him, and the various benefits are great.

Of course, my kids and I still get a little excited when we see helicopters fly in formation, or watch fat C-17's as they barely crawl through the sky. Watching men in parachutes fall from them is always better though. Playing the game, I always assume my long lost SF cousin is one of them.

I never grow tired of stopping for Soldiers and waiting as they slowly cross the road that separates ranges. It is, afterall, the only country road that takes me off-post towards a Dairy Queen Triple Chocolate Utopia- hold the wax brownies, extra cocoa sauce, please.

When I go to the commissary, I really do notice when the front food display has been changed. It's almost delightful to see a change in scenery. Instead of spaghetti sauce and cereal, it's now a whole lot of dogfood.

Sadly, the post family pool has been closed the whole summer because they 'need a new part.' (Right...whose kid shat in it this time?) My kids are taking that one pretty hard. I don't bother going to the other pool. It's to deep for little kiddies who still need swim lessons.

The library, usually my only peaceful sanctuary full of new worlds and real-life adventures, has somehow become nothing more than a horribly familiar room that holds dusty old books on shelves. How could I EVER feel that way about a library?!

We've just been here to long. I don't mean to complain, my husband is safe and home with me afterall, but rumors have it even that is in jeopardy now.

I love this life, but God knows I don't have to like it at the moment.

Space A

2006-08-02T23:27:00.000-07:00

A space available C-17 flight leaves the local air force base Saturday and will fly to Las Vegas. I am so tempted to kidnap my husband, drop the kids off somewhere (anywhere), and just GET ON THAT FLIGHT. We'd get there, have a hell of a good time, and then try to hop a flight back by Sunday night... Unfortunately, I just don't see it happening. With our luck there would be no return flights and my husband would then be considered AWOL.

I bet it would be worth it.

2006-07-28T22:26:00.000-07:00

It's Friday night and I am home with sick kids while my husband is out with a buddy for the night. I know he needs a break. I'm trying to act like a good wife, all trusting and all. Of course, with sick kids I've had to pause my movie The Company over ten times and am still only halfway through it.

My girls love it when I sing them lullabyes at bedtime in the dark, snuggled together in bed. I sing a mix of songs I remember from girls camp I attended as a kid and childrens church songs, because after a wartorn day, singing those familiar words calm us down and puts the troubled world back into a better perspective. We are all healthy, safe, and together right now. In the end, that's all that matters.

Monique at Word Well tagged me. Tagged ME!

Five things in my purse /wallet:

1. Military ID (never leave home without it)
2. Lip Venom
3. an old shopping list
4. cash
5. Build a Bear 'Buy Stuff Club' card

Five things in my refrigerator:

1. Papa Murphy's leftover pepperoni pizza
2. 100% orange juice
3. sliced cantalope
4. Vlasic zesty banana pepper rings
5. 1% milk (only cost $1.62 at the commissary by the way)

Five things in my closet:

1. jeans
2. summer tops
3. dresses and skirts
4. jean jacket
5. my favorite babydoll nighties

Five things in my car:

1. about 30 cd's
2. 2 pairs of sunglasses (one brown, one rose colored)
3. there's always an empty water or pepsi bottle (thanks to my husband, who won't clean up after himself when in my car)
4. Gerber pocket knife with all sorts of things on it. My husband gave me his old one and told me to keep it in my purse. Now it sits in my car.
5. POW/MIA window decal

Gotta Love Oregon

2006-07-24T16:10:00.000-07:00

It hit 104 degrees in Oregon while we visited family. Now we are home cooling off in 95 degree weather. I love it.

While driving down I-5 in Oregon, a ratty old car pulled in front of us in the fast lane, boxed us in, and began flashing his middle finger at us as he slowed way down and yelled at us in his rearview mirror. My husband and I started laughing as we tried to figure out what the hell was wrong with this guy. We didn't do anything to him. I've said it before, we have no luck in Oregon. We always, always find the crazies, or they find us.

Eventually the car got over and as we passed him, he continued flipping us off and yelling at us. He struck me as a miserable, balding, middle-aged hippie who probably still lived at home with his abusive parents. I could tell my husband was looking for a little fun as he motioned for him to pull over and the other guy put his hands up as if to say bring it on. Of course I objected to the idea and was ignored as he took the exit ramp, other car following. I was getting nervous now as I thought that this guy was probably on drugs and could very well have a gun in his car (I am used to the Tacoma area). I more than voiced my concern to my husband and he informed me that we are in Oregon- where people are full of nothing but shit. He was right. As this guy saw we were serious, instead of following us, he took a right and sped away in the opposite direction. My husband just laughed and said, "See?" He seemed disappointed. I could tell he wanted to kick some ass and that bothered me even more, as our kids were in the car with us.

ROTC Memories

2006-07-18T23:32:00.000-07:00

I've incorporated regular military push ups into my workouts again. I can't do to many- yet. I was past 50 during ROTC when we lived in Utah. Actually, I didn't hit that mark until I started training with the Ranger Challenge. That kicked my ass. They were always dropping us just because they could. When I first started out, I remember they would grab the back of the belt on my BDU's and make me do push ups. I surprised myself (and them) at how fast I was soon doing 50 on my own.

One morning, while we were doing our push ups and sit ups, one of the cadets approached a new 18 year old girl and was 'helping' her with her push ups. She had fun acting helpless with him, and asked him why we even had to do those stupid things? He started saying how push ups would strengthen her chest muscles...how push ups would make her chest even BIGGER than it already was...how push ups would make her chest STICK OUT even more than it already did...his face was within inches of hers as he continued with the flirting. I think my mouth was gaping as I realized this girl was loving every minute of it. The cadet next to him took one look at my wide eyes and quickly ended that shit.

I remember running at five a.m. most mornings through the campus streets, chanting cadences about being an Airborne Ranger. Shoot to kill... I remember the cold dark air on my face and watching the sunrise. For some strange reason, I would often find myself smiling at those moments. In the beginning of Ranger Challenge training, there were guys who would take pity on me-and my weighted down pack- and push me from behind when running up the stairs, ramps, or hills. It amazed me that those guys were that strong. And eventually even I became a decent runner, because thier jog was my fast run and I had no other choice but to improve.

Sometimes, four other girls and I would break off into our own group to run up the lonely, early morning streets and on occasion we'd see car lights pull up behind us with students sticking thier heads out the window only to yell, "Hey, It's GIRL Cadets!" We'd just smile, or yell back that we weren't all cadets- YET. Once there a female student who was out jogging early too, and she cheered us on. That meant alot to us.

Other times we would have to run up and down the stands in the football stadium of the University. I usually got about halfway through the stands (well behind some of the guys) before they would send us to the middle of the field to do sprint relays, extra push ups, etc. Once a young, first year boy walked up to the small group of us girls after everyone had just finished working out at the stadium and sneered at us, "Girls shouldn't be in the Army." I remember just staring at him until he walked away. I didn't really know what to say to that.

Instead of learning the very basic things that first and second year students learn in ROTC, the guys in charge of Ranger Challenge would pull us away from the others and we'd get to do much funner, crash course training.

A chubby girl with short blonde hair and no make up was a pro at taking apart the rifle and putting it back together again. I grimaced as I watched her hands get all greasy as she showed us over and over again how to do it, but I admired her just the same. Soon I was in there too, getting just as dirty.

Crossing the makeshift rope bridge was an experience. I loved crossing that thing, trying to do it just right, as fast as I could. I'd get yelled at, a form of encouragement I suppose. One of the cadets took it upon himself to tie the rope around my hips and upper thighs to teach me how to do it, instead of just showing me. Talk about getting personal. (We noticed they didn't assist any of the new guys like that.) Then he almost jerked me off my feet as he pulled on the knot. I could tell he had a point to make. I learned how to do it myself very quickly after that.

Land navigation was fun. Sometimes while in the classroom, the instructor would leave and turn the lesson over to a cadet. It would then turn into a bunch of bullshitting amongst the older cadets, until they would remind each other that they were supposed to be teaching us how to do what they already knew. I learned more about thier twisted minds than I did about land navigation in that class.

Sometimes I felt out of place, like maybe I shouldn't be running around playing army because I'm a female and I know some of those guys felt the same way. Most were accepting and kind, but not all. I saw alot of harrassment. But I also knew it was just college and they had no real say, so I took the experience while I had the chance. There are many more memories I have of ROTC. I hate that the memories are getting dimmer now.

In the end, only two girls made the actual team to compete. I was chosen to come along as an alternative in case someone got injured. I regret not going, as much as I wanted to. I regret not grabbing hold of that opportunity. Of course, we moved soon after that.

That was really just a little, tiny moment in my life. ROTC pales in comparison with the real Army, but it made for some good memories none the less. I know some of those cadets are now officers in the Army and I can't help but wonder if I'll ever come across them again. Maybe when I'm an officer in the Nurse Corps...?

2006-07-16T23:52:00.000-07:00

There is a web site called Soldiers Angels. I recently signed up to be assigned a deployed soldier to write to weekly and send care packages to monthly (or more). I was given a Marine who is in Iraq and his name was put in by his 1st Sgt. His 1st Sgt left a message that said this Marine had no one writing to him, he's having a hard time and needs some TLC. So I am going to send letters and packages. I'll have my kids help out to. It's sad that many soldiers don't have anyone here at home to receive letters and support from. Hope I can make a difference for him, even if just a little bit.

It's time to send out nursing school applications. I have to figure out where to send them. It's kind of a difficult task when your husband's in the army. I don't know where we'll be going, or what we'll be doing. There's even still a chance that we could end up in Germany with the rest of the gang after all.

Once in awhile my husband talks about just getting out of the military and moving us to some far away place where he won't have to be around anyone anymore. His ETS date is fast approaching. The other day he mentioned that he could still smell the burning bodies on the Strykers and that he was done. Finished. FTA. I didn't really know what to say. I mean, he could still SMELL them.

Other times, he's just fine with everything. He gets like that. He's had a serious love-hate relationship with the army for a long time. He said there are guys that get addicted to the killing and want to go back. I can tell he still gets like that once in awhile. I can just see it in his eyes and the way he talks about certain things. But then there are times when I realize that he's growing tired of it all.

We know alot of soldiers who are getting out. One guy has fifteen freakin years in and his wife had an ETS yard sale the other day. She said her husband just wants outs. Even though she could see the end of the road, her husband couldn't and just plain wants out of the army. I hear the good old rumors about the army shortening the deployments. Even the Army Times wrote about it. The sad truth is the ones who make the ultimate decisions don't even know what combat is like and therefore don't realize how much shortening those tours really would help with retention, as well as recruitment.

My husband originally didn't want me to join as an armynurse but now says if I really want to be one, he won't try and stop me anymore. He said I'll see what he means once I'm over there.

2006-07-08T17:14:00.000-07:00

I took my girls to see Over the Hedge on post and throughout the whole movie I had to sit on my hand to protect myself from being cut by a metal spring that poked through the old theater seat. I would have moved except it was so crowded that there was no other place with a good view. The army has a new film clip they show during the national anthem that shows the flag, and soldiers doing thier job. It's very good. Fills me with some good old American military pride. We all stand during it and there is often cheering afterwards. Or an occasional 'Hooah!' I suppose some would call it a form of brainwashing to see it before every movie like that, but I like to think of it as a reminder of our freedom and how we need to hold on to this country's values. I don't understand why other theaters off post don't do the same thing.

On occasion my children and I still endure the effects of having a loved one who has been to war, as well as years in the active duty infantry. Sometimes I want to reach out to my husband and hold him but he's just not there. I mean, he is, but he's not. I've learned not to cry in front of him. I save that for after the fighting, when I'm alone. I believe he sees crying as weakness and I don't want him to think I'm weak. But I think it pisses him off even more because he can no longer make me cry in front of him. Or maybe he gets pissed off because he knows it's come to that, and it's not what he really wants.

We'll go weeks where everything is just fine, good even. Just the other day life was great. We took the kids for a hike near Mt Saint Helens and got within 5 miles of the steaming volcano, ate MRE's, and had such a nice time together. Majority of the time, he is fine. But then there are moments when he just has a different look and mood about him. I try not to push his buttons or say the wrong thing because when he snaps, there's really no getting him back.

I know other wives who deal with the same issues. Many have it much, much worse. Spouse abuse is rampant and sadly, there are still a couple houses boarded up from the latest 'armywife killings' here on post. I won't go into detail about any of that though... I just fight like hell to keep the alcohol out of our house. Alcohol only makes things worse. I may sound like I take alot of shit, but God knows I dish it out as well. I just recognize the situation is a little different now. I know he's been to war and has some demons. Who doesn't after being over there?
I want to help him, not hurt him more.

Have You Ever Tried the Super Bed?

2006-07-06T00:04:00.000-07:00

This is the first summer that I have really tried out tanning beds. I've avoided them for so long, out of fear of cancer, that I've always been the pasty one walking around, blinding everybody.

This summer I thought twice about it and decided that just maybe, I could get a tan and add some ooo to the la la when I put on those knickers for my husband. He's the kind of guy who gets tan just by standing outside for five minutes so he's never understood why I've been so milky white (milky white sounds better than pasty) all these years.

At first I was a little leery of all the people who hang out at the tanning salon. There are so many bleached blondes with seriously dark skin who live and breathe tanning- guys and girls alike- that I was afraid I might have to speak using only one syllable words. They actually surprised me by throwing in an occassional double-syllable word mid-sentence and would often giggle afterwards as they realized what they had just done. It's true. I shudder to think that I may have joined the bobblehead crowd for the summer.

I've gone years without sun in this state, so I really felt I had no other option. I'm not bleached, nor very blonde, or darkly tanned either, so I don't think I immediately pass as the bobblehead type.

Soldiers, as well as soldiers wives, frequent the local tanning salons that surround the post just miles outside of the gates. I have seen many female soldiers wearing BDU's come in to tan during army work hours. Go figure. I guess we all get a little desperate for some sunlight but it just doesn't seem right to be hanging out at a tanning salon in uniform. Kind of like complaining that you just broke a nail after pulling the trigger.

Just the other night I showed up for an appointment and had to wait a few minutes while the girls behind the counter flirted with a couple of guys, obviously soldiers, who had walked in just before me. Those guys weren't there to tan, just to flirt. It's amazing to watch as so many girls off post go ga-ga over these guys. Little do they know that they will most likely get pregnant at 17, have to get married, and become the next mean, bitter armywife that lives next door to me. (There really are a few of those!)

Unfortunately, tonight I got talked into another 'really super' deal. Buy five medium tans and I'd get to try out the SUPER tanning bed. Yes, the super bed. I lay on a foam mattress and was told to flip once, after 11 minutes. I was getting a little nervous, as the medium beds were already my friends and this super bed was huge and very machine like, with bars and angles and buttons. It was loud and rude and it just plain scared me. I was shown how to push the button that would squirt water to cool me down and, Oh boy, I would just have to try it out at least once! According to Blondie #3 who works there.

Once inside, baking, I fought the urge to run away screaming. The only way I could describe this 'super bed' experience to my husband was by telling him I felt as though a giant monster was trying to eat me. For 22 freakin minutes. I announced to him that I would stay away from the super beds. And that I'd try not to let my head hit my shoulders to hard this summer either.

Love those four days...

2006-06-27T06:35:00.000-07:00

Yesterday my husband had another four day weekend so we took advantage of the beautiful weather and took the kids to the zoo. Midway, we spread out the woobies, opened the ruck sac, and surprisingly ate deli sandwiches instead of MRE's- although that was another menu option. Everything is Army for us and we hardly even realize it.

Somewhere in the conversation we began talking about bugs and spiders and I commented that I'm the only one in our family who kills spiders and I assumed it was because I hate them so much. My husband was quick to say that he tries not to kill God's creatures. I joked that he'll go to war, but not kill God's creatures? He said, "They aren't God's creatures over there, they're fucking animals." He's said that a few times before and he gets so serious when he says it. I can tell he's seeing some distant memory when he thinks about it. I believe him whole heartedly.

My husband still talks about getting out of the army. He wants to go to school but he likes the security we have now and he wonders if he'll really be able to get along out there. After being enlisted this long and being so conditioned to the infantry, he knows he wouldn't get away with most of the shit out there in civilian land that he can get away with now. But anything is possible. We talk once in awhile and I know that if he gets out, I could easily join. The main reason I haven't joined yet is the whole family plan. We don't have one. Neither of us have family that is interested in taking care of our kids if we were both deployed. So we'll see what happens. Of course we have made the mistake of talking in front of our kids and my youngest voiced her opinion, "Daddy, I don't want you to get out of the army and Mommy, I don't want you to join!"

"But baby," I say inside," Mommy really wants to be an armynurse and has so much school debt already that it would be a good thing if she joined. Mommy's biggest fear is that she will let go of her dream because, of course, she will always put you first..."

Maybe that's not a bad thing. There is always ballet. It keeps calling to me. Maybe it's time to go back. Again. My toe shoes hang lifeless in my closet after all, and I wouldn't have to cut my hair for basic if I never go.

My Lovely Town

2006-06-22T00:02:00.000-07:00

Summer is definitely here and hormones must be running overtime. Seems as though the sun has turned up the heat. Maybe it's just that the boys are deploying and leaving town soon, and are looking for some last minute lovin'.

I say that because the soldiers here have been much more forward lately, and I'm sure I'm not the only one who's noticed. Just this evening as I drove home on the freeway, two soldiers driving behind me decided to pull up along side at 65 mph and signal that they wanted to call me. I sped up, and of course they turned it into a game of 'keep up'.

I realized that they must have known I was married because of the ARMYWIFE-US ARMY license plate on the back of my car. I showed them my ring to reinforce it and one of them mouthed, "Who cares?" as they again tried to get me to pull over. Persistent, aren't they? Why in the world would they be chasing an armywife when I know there are single girls around that would want them?

I mouthed "Sorry" and shook my head, and they finally fell behind as we neared the post gate. Maybe they realized I am one of those prude women who actually cares about her very own soldier. Oh well. If they're going to war, I hope they do get some lovin' before they go. Everyone needs it.

School is school. Not to bad. The other day we began a cat dissection and needed someone to skin it first. One of the rare male soldiers in the class jumped at the chance to do that. He looked a little to excited if you ask me, but even I was a little curious and watched whenever I could find the time. He did pet the dead cat before he began skinning it. Honestly, I think I'll be okay slicing into that thing.

I was thrilled to find someone who shares my passion for the helicopters and planes that fly around here. Just the other day one of the little neighbor girls was excitedly screaming at the top of her lungs. I peeked out to see what was going on, to find her pointing at a helicopter as it flew unbelievably low overhead.

"Look at it! Just look at it!" She yelled as she jumped up and down. I'd finally found someone else who doesn't act as if those things don't exist. Sure, we all get used to them to the point of rarely noticing (unless of course you are a visitor or brand new) but come on, we get airshows almost every day! Let's cheer them on once in awhile. Just the other night a new helicopter skimmed the tops of our trees as it flew by. It pissed my husband off, but I loved it. They were just letting us know they have arrived after all.

My little girl has a birthday coming up soon. I went to the PX for some toys and although I found a few good ones, I think I may have to take the off-post journey to Toys-R-Us. She wants a Bratz themed birthday and a Bratz comforter set, but hell, I'm not ready let my baby feed into the whole Pay-money-to-let-Bratz-teach-your-baby-how-to-be-a-slut thing. I'll be the first to admit the Bratz dolls have some damn cute clothes, but not for little girlz to imitate! Besides, she's already an official brat of the army.

MIA

2006-06-18T06:32:00.000-07:00

The news of the two missing soldiers is something that I just don't handle very well. I'm praying like crazy for thier protection and safe return.
Before my husband left for Iraq, I remember asking him through my tears, "....but what if they capture you?" He swore to me he would fight to the death and take a shitload of them with him before he would ever be captured. As painful as it was to hear that, I honestly felt a little better with that knowledge. I couldn't imagine the horror of the other option.

I know this doesn't sound like the hopeful, optimistic, goody-goody post that is expected of patriotic armywives. But honestly, that's not what this blog is about. It's about my life as an infantrywife, good and bad. Of course I know there is still hope that those two soldiers will be found alive. I know our troops are out there doing the best job that they are legally allowed to do, but let's just fuck the war rules, shall we? Let our soldiers fight like they are truly able and show the enemy who really rules the world because they would be hurting a hell of a lot more than they are now. Some claim that it's just not that simple, but I bet it could be.

2006-06-15T12:55:00.000-07:00

The kids are out of school. Thier excited screams were louder than the last bell that rang for the school year. I am ready to have some fun with them this summer. Last year we discovered the outdoor swimming pool at the nearby airforce base so that should help keep them busy. Between studying for my classes, playing, re-organizing this little house, and working out, I think I'll be busy enough. And just maybe, I 'll be able to enjoy a little sunshine during the occasional sun break.

It's no secret that another one of our Stryker Brigades is going bye-bye. When I see them I just want to wave to them and cheer them on because I am so proud of what they do, and yet at the same time I get tears in my eyes because I know what this means. My husband already lost alot of friends while he was in Iraq and I hate to think that he could lose more. After being here for so long, it's almost impossible not to get to know other infantry guys and thier families, whether they're in the same brigade or not. I almost wish we didn't know any of them because maybe it wouldn't hurt so bad if they get killed, but past experience tells me otherwise.

For various reasons, I have a bad feeling that my husband could be heading to Korea soon ...which means I could be sitting here yet another year.

tsk tsk

2006-06-13T23:30:00.000-07:00

I've been so busy with my classes that I barely have time to even look around my little world anymore. I love it though. Who would have thought Anatomy and Physiology could be so interesting? I get some sick thrill knowing that the bones I hold in my hand were actually part of a real person.

This evening my neighbor stopped by and asked to speak to my husband. She needed his help with something since her husband is away for awhile. Of course my husband helped her and I just happened to overhear her tell him how he is "Soooo strong...." She faltered midsentence as she realized I was standing right there. Wouldn't that be kind of like my husband overhearing some guy telling me how I am "Soooo flexible......?"

I really wouldn't have thought much about it except for the fact that this woman has soldiers over regularly whenever her husband is deployed or away training. I caught her making out with one last summer in her backyard.

I am a jealous woman, but luckily I am no longer an insecure woman. I have realized the horrible art of getting even instead of getting sad. Thank God my husband is a good boy. I really don't think I would make a very good bad girl.

Ding Dong, Zarqawi's Dead

2006-06-08T01:30:00.000-07:00

The wicked bitch is dead!

So much going on in the world, as usual. It's such a mess that I really don't care to comment on any more of it. But I will. The LT who is taking a stand- maybe he has a valid point or two, maybe not, but he's still a soldier who's backing out at the last minute instead of going to war with his men, and that's just wrong. So how much of it is him being afraid? Probably quite a bit.

I swear some of the stories that shoot out from this post make us all so damn proud. I know I'm just another armywife and I've never been to Iraq, Vietnam or any place of the sort, but I do pay close attention to the words of those who have. I never really know what to think about all these things. My own opinion would be a good one if I could just figure out what it is.

When my husband takes leave, I kind of do to. We sat outside late tonight, keeping warm with my husband's woobie, listening to all the thunderous noises coming from the airfield and ranges. It would get so loud at times that we could barely hear each other talk. It's 1:30 am and they're still at it. I don't mind though. It's soothing for my husband, or so he says until after awhile he keeps mentioning how it sounds alot like being in Iraq, and then he goes to bed slightly more stressed than he was.

He has a decent collection of knives around the house. I don't usually mind except sometimes he forgets where he's at or who is in the room with him just in that split second when he wakes up in the middle of the night if he senses movement. I've thought about taking that knife out from under the bed, the one with the handle sticking out for easy access, and just hiding it. But then I wonder what would happen if we really did need it sometime and it wasn't there?

I only debate hiding it when I think about the time we were sleeping and I woke up to suddenly find him low crawling over me in his sleep. He put one hand over my mouth and the other was getting ready to turn my head in an attempt to break my neck. I was frozen with fear and must have prayed without even realizing it because he suddenly stopped and layed back down on his side before snapping his eyes open. I asked him if he just had a dream. Yes, he had one about 'killing the enemy'.

That incident happened before he ever went to Iraq. It had been from all the intense training the infantry had been doing for months on end, preparing for the war. My husband felt so bad that he decided to sleep on the floor for days after that, until I got so lonely that I begged him to sleep in the bed like a normal person again. He said sleeping on the ground was normal, but I guess that's a whole other story.

Food Storage

2006-05-24T17:33:00.000-07:00

There once was a student. She was married to a soldier. One day, she suddenly found out that she would have to pay cash for her classes and books for the term, or not get to go to school at all.

So school was paid for, books were bought, and the whole family was just delighted to eat MRE's for dinner every night till payday.

Such is the life.

Thanks for the comments, by the way. I read and appreciate each one.

An Honest Day in My Life

2006-05-15T20:26:00.000-07:00

Every once in awhile I pick my husband up at lunchtime, and on rare occasions he invites me to go into his workplace. I usually don't.

"No, that's okay... " I found myself saying after he invited me to go in with him the other day. He looked at me oddly.

"Why not?" He asked in a confused manner. It's his second home afterall. Or maybe it's his first home and our house is his second home.

"Way to much testosterone," I remind him.

"What? Are you a man-hater now?" He had me there.

"Well, I don't hate YOU," I smiled. But I followed him in since he had a few minutes to spare and wanted me to tag along.

I inhaled the familiar scent of the building. They all smell the same. Same as the barracks, same as the BDU top he throws on the bed after work in the evenings. Is it cleaner? Is it sweat? Why the hell am I still able to recognize that smell ? It's both comforting and disturbing all at once.

He introduces me to his latest friends, gives me a mini tour. One of the guys wants to show me his newest tattoo that spreads colorfully across his shoulder. My husband just rolls his eyes. I do my best to act impressed. A different guy makes an immature comment to me, but that's just in his nature I realize. He has said something to me before in the past, only to get thumped on the back of the head both times by the nearest soldier. They try so hard to understand that a married woman is just that. Wait, who am I kidding? Since when do they care?

Trying to be polite to his first seargant comes easier to me, as I know this guy is a fairly important figure in my husband's life. I've seen him many times, yet can never quite remember what he looks like. He seems tougher than the rest, and much wiser. He has kind eyes, but always a serious look. My husband's CO seems nothing more than a smiling big kid. More power to him.

My husband doesn't bother introducing me to the new privates, yet I wonder about some of them. What's their story? Did they join because they love this country? For college money? Or to get away from something? I hold admiration for them just the same. They're here at wartime, when so many others in the world choose not to be. I just laugh when my husband often wonders how in the hell some of them even made it through basic. They'll learn the ropes just like he did. Like he is still doing.

After I make an early escape, I drive home with the sun roof open and look around this post. The trees, the buildings, all the new vehicles that young soldiers can afford only because they are in the military... I love to see the green or tan convoys as they drive by, or the sound of the helicopters that make thier home just up the street. And it's so common to see soldiers doing ruck marches or PT that life would be strange with out them. This has been my home for almost five years now and I can't remember life before. My kids know no other life.

I sometimes contemplate enlisting as an LPN, instead of waiting to become an officer when I get my RN. I will become an armynurse. I know I'm crazy, but the army is my home. Have I already lost it?

Jenny, the Military Spouse Comic Strip

2006-05-13T19:57:00.000-07:00

Here's a cute comic strip featured in Stars and Stripes and Military.com. It's about a military spouse and the joys of PCSing.

Where'd You Go? I Miss You So

2006-05-11T11:05:00.000-07:00

(video at bottom of page)

I love this song, despite all the talking at the beginning of the video. I suppose the song's a little harsh, but the fact is every soldier's girl has had at least a few minutes in her life when she's had to learn to deal with his career. After awhile she either leaves, or she grows proud of him and honors his position as America's Finest Son.

A friend of ours got sentenced to military prison. My heart is breaking for his family. I've never known anyone who's gone to prison before. I'd always been so judgemental and cold towards anyone like that, but I know this guy and he is one of the kindest men I have ever met who got caught up in something he shouldn't have. I agree with jail time if someone deserves it, but the army is turning it's back on his family and I don't agree with that. He got a purple heart in Iraq and she's been a good armywife for years. Now it's almost as though I can feel thier nightmare and know that they won't be able to wake up from it. It seems as though there's just nothing left...

Spouse College Money, With Love From Uncle Sam

2006-05-09T22:55:00.000-07:00

Stateside spouses (or widows/widowers) of active duty can now receive college assistance of up to $2500 a year. That is definately some good news for me. The requirements aren't to complicated, and this will definately help out some military families. Go HERE immediately because the deadline is (postmarked by) May 22!

Joe Diffy is coming to town. He will be giving a free concert here on post soon and although I'm not a big country fan, I will admit that he has a few good songs. I appreciate that he is doing this for the military community. It really does mean alot to everyone to get to go to a free concert, especially when it's to show support for the troops.

Brace Yourself

2006-05-07T22:25:00.000-07:00

Not to long ago I had to break up a fight between some unsupervised kids at the local park, all between the ages of six and ten. Several of them teamed up against a boy, one pinning him down as another picked up a big stick and beat him in the head with it. My kids are not allowed to go to the park without me, but they were peering around the corner and watched as this kid got beat up. They finally came running to me after they saw him get smacked, telling me that he was bleeding and throwing up.

I went to the park just as they let the crying boy run away. Unable to talk to him, I yelled at the other kids, asking them where were thier parents? Why weren't thier parents taking care of them? I didn't really expect an answer, but I did expect them to tell me where they lived so I could at least let thier moms know what had happened. Of course they wouldn't tell me. Disgusted, I gave up and went home.

The best part came next. A very large, very pissed woman came up the street looking for me. Her kids fed her who knows what kind of BS, led her to my house, and there she was standing at my doorstep wanting to know why I was telling her kids they had a poor upbringing. Not quite my words, but damn she was speaking the truth if I had ever heard it. I told her what I had really said and asked her if she knew that her son had just beat some kid in the head with a stick.

"Yeah, but don't you know what he did to deserve it?" she inquired of me. I could feel the blood drain from my face as I realized what this lady was saying. I did, in fact, know what the other kid had done and it was something ridiculous- certainly not worth getting a concussion over. I could feel my voice raise a notch as I told her that I could easily involve the MPs. The little boy went home and was bleeding and puking after all!

She just had to do it. She just had to call me a bitch. Now I always go out of my way to act extremely well behaved, hoping to downplay the stigma that infantrywives get due to the rough lives we live, and the even rougher soldiers we call husbands. But I think I lost it, because what came next surprised even me.

I said words only my husband and his friends would dare say, yelling to the point that my fellow-infantrywife-neighbor thought she was going to have to come over and help me kick some very large ass (she later told me), and eventually I got to the part where I told her to get the fuck off my lawn before I really did call the MP's. I may have even headed to the phone and begun dialing the MP's front desk, who knows. All I know is that I saw some serious red, and was thoroughly disgusted that I was getting harrassed for preventing a little boy from getting his head busted open. And that so-called mom thought I was the one who needed a reprimand. Yeah, she left pretty quickly.

The incident was just another harsh reminder of why some wives (like me) tend to hide out, playing keep away from a few of the bored and unbalanced wives that circle these neighborhoods like vultures, neverminding thier own kids but searching for any sort of trouble they can find with other wives.

I've said it before and it's so damn true, there are all types in this mix. Some of the best and brightest women I have ever met are Armywives, and some of the lowest, nastiest gutterwhores are Armywives as well.

I figure I must fit somewhere snuggly in the middle.

Honestly, It's Not Harsh

2006-05-04T08:39:00.000-07:00

This whole illegal immigration uproar is getting old. I'm sure it would be difficult to send them all back, but hell, do it anyway and tell them to come back the legal way. Secure the borders, and in the mean time give the remaining jobs to the Americans who need them because there are a hell of alot of unemployed out there. There are also legal immigrants in America who are trying to get thier families here who have to wait for years. Maybe then we could focus more on the legals and thier families, and less on the illegals.

After immigrants come to this country illegally, they not only wave thier countrys' flag in my face, but some actually REPLACE the American flag with it, and expect me to speak thier language. They need to take thier asses back to thier precious country while we welcome the legal immigrants who respect America enough to obey the laws and learn English. Or they could join the military and prove that they value this country. I will more than welcome them then, because HELLO there is a war going on.

I know America is a melting pot- I'm a mixture of Scottish and Norwegian and who knows what else, but my forefathers came here to help build up this country, not to break laws or to turn the American flag upside down. Again, it's really not that hard to figure out.

2006-05-02T17:56:00.000-07:00

This week has been post clean up week, meaning soldiers are all over the place picking up trash in the the woods, the streets, and even in our neighborhoods. That's really got to suck for them. The families have been spoiled because we no longer even mow our own lawns- the housing authority takes care of that. Some of the soldiers have clearly never been through family housing because they look bewildered as they walk around. Either that the heat is getting to them. Afterall, 70 degrees and sunshine is considered heat here.

My husband was out in the field (okay, the woods) for a little while. I thought I would be just fine having him away for such a short period of time, but I now know that no amount of time is a good time for us to be apart. He said he felt the same way and for a split second he even reconsidered his career in the military. Notice the 'for a split second' part.

I swear I'll update more often. Life gets kind of slow for me on this post and I can't find a whole lot to share- that I can share anyway. Of course alot more happens here that I don't talk about. We are at war after all, and from what I've heard loose lips sink ships. Or Strykers. So I'll just keep doing the kegals.

Red Cross

2006-04-26T11:41:00.000-07:00

I'm in the process of volunteering for the Red Cross. They said there is a good chance that I might be able to work in one of the local hospitals since I am heading that way with my career. I am also interested in the disaster assistance and/or being one of the Red Cross contacts for the military and thier families in an emergency. Wouldn't that be nice? Next time my husband is deployed, I would know just how to contact him in an 'emergency'. Hmm...I think loneliness counts as an 'emergency' for this armywife. I wonder what the Red Cross would say about that?

Eventually I will be one of the nurses that volunteer to go to disaster sites like Hurricane Katrina. I wish I had my nursing degree back then because I would have been there in a heartbeat.

My daughter seems to be baring the brunt of military life. Her best friend moved away last year. Now her two new best friends are moving away this summer. Poor kid. She was in tears about it this morning. Luckily her daddy got home from PT in time to give her a ride to school and walk her to class. That put a big smile on her face.

Don't Let the Night End

2006-04-16T07:32:00.000-07:00

Armywives come from all walks of life.

Who would have thought that a tough talking hispanic girl who regularly speaks of her homegirls back home, and a sweet little country girl from Kansas who tends to drink to much, or a friendly, bubbly cheerleading type who can turn any guys head with just a smile, and a very careful, thinks-to-much good girl could go out for the evening and have a hell of a good time?
'
Well it happens all the time around here. Women from all walks of life come together and share everything, most often getting together because thier husbands are in a tight infantry unit together. It's almost inevitable that the wives become friends as well.

The other night we tagged along with the guys (our husbands, and a few single soldiers who always find thier way to the married housing quarters whenever there is talk of a good party), and first went to a casino. They filled thier pockets with hundred dollar bills, easily earned just by tossing dice; we hung out, grateful for some girl time- no children attached. We took our car and they took thiers, all of them crammed into one because no one wanted to ride with the women. I heard a wife wonder out loud if they would be okay, crunched in like that. I said I thought that they would be just fine- after all they spoon together, don't they?

Following the casino, we all drove back on post and hit some of the hot spots that you always hear about but rarely go to. After some Washington Apple and Sex on the beach, the world became very tipsy and salsa dancing looked sexier than ever before. A room full of soldiers and thier women who really know how to dance is very inspiring. There's something very sexy about dressing for the occassion and just letting go. Every now and then, the MP's would walk through but there were no fights or problems. Well, except for one of the soldiers nearby who found a drunk girl and decided to take her top down. Someone yelled for them to get a room and his buddies quickly broke that up.

Eventually the evening stretched into early morning and the hot dance floor turned into a drunk chaotic mess and we all knew it was our cue to leave. It's usually about that point when the fun ends and the problems begin. So after finding our way home (the designated driver accidentally drove through stop signs and took the wrong roads toward home-and she was sober), I chugged a lot of water and somehow managed a quick shower because I absolutely hate waking up to the smell of smoke and alcohol.

Of course children wake up especially early on mornings like that and I think that's why married couples rarely go out after awhile. But when armywives and soldiers get together, it's always a hell of a good time. Just something about that tight knit unity that doesn't compare to anything else.

Armed Forces Night

2006-04-07T21:50:00.000-07:00

Last night was the Mariners Salute to the Armed Forces Night. The section reserved for military was pretty full and there were even a few nose bleeds due to the high altitude seating. But I guess at $10 a ticket, it's just part of the deal. Mariners won, of course, and we all screamed for Ichiro, of course.

The opening show had a nice tribute to the military, and service members representing each branch stood in the field for recognition. They even had some wives and children of deployed servicemen stand out there to represent the military families.

The moment of silence for the fallen was amazing. Pure silence. You could just feel the deep respect for each man and woman who has given the ultimate sacrifice. There was not a dry eye when TAPS was played. I know it hurts my husband every time he thinks of his fallen brothers.

In the picture you can just barely see the beautiful background of Seattle. I fall in love with that city more and more with each visit.

There was a female soldier sitting with four or five male soldiers in front of us and unfortunately, she was as confused as I was as to which one was her official boyfriend. She was all over all of them, each getting his own special turn with her. I usually have alot of respect for female soldiers (I want to be one soon) but damn girl, get some self respect already!

Old Glory

2006-04-06T00:13:00.000-07:00

This week my husband worked one of those lovely 24 hour shifts. I brought him some Swedish meatballs for dinner and parked outside the barracks. I really don't like to go inside the infantry buildings (way to much testosterone for me), so I sent my little girl in to get him instead. He came out and had dinner in the car and we visited for a little while.

I think I might hang the American flag outside of our house again. Other military families have thier flags out, I think we should to. It hasn't flown since my husband returned from Iraq because he promptly took it down when he came home. It was the neighbors idea, actually. I think they were both a little disgruntled after fighting in the war. I didn't get to alarmed, I recognized that they'd been through alot. Now my husband sees the war as necessary for the prevention of future terrorist attacks. And he gets so angry when he sees someone burning the flag.

Yeah, I think it's time to pull out the old flag again. I've missed it.

Spring Break

2006-04-03T22:25:00.000-07:00

on an army post often contain various activities to help keep the kiddies busy. This week will consist of: shopping for Easter dresses and new shoes for my little Miss La-dee-das, stopping at the post animal shelter to visit the lonely dogs and cats, swimming at the family pool, 99 cent post movies, craft projects for the kids, an afternoon full of fun at the Army sponsored Kids Fest, an evening at the Mariners baseball game (thanks to cheap military appreciation tickets), giving our cat Anna Nicole a.k.a. Large Marge a.k.a. Big Girl a much needed bath-an event that requires more than two people, a sleepover with friends, playground hopping, and any other activities I can find to help keep the rugrats busy. Because they will definately let me know when they are bored.

I'm exhausted just writing all that.

Personally, I just want to curl up on the couch with a well-worn quilt and some chocolate and watch a good Jane Austen movie.

Facing Reality

2006-03-29T22:31:00.000-08:00

Feels like everything is coming to an end. The brigade my husband has been a part of forever now- literally from its beginning to its end- will no longer be. I can't say I'm sad. Well, maybe just a little. There are alot of families with whom we have shared the past four plus years with and I don't know whether to cry bitter tears or get all giddy because we will finally be going our separate ways. Though my husband is getting ready to re-enlist again, everything is still up in the air for us right now. It's a little scary, but an unknown future is a familiarity with the army.

Over the past several years I held onto various bits of memorabilia from my husband's unit. I've collected magnets and decals, t shirts, army related crafts made by local armywives, pictures from unit parties and balls. I kept several post newspapers from when the brigade made headlines while in Iraq, and I still have newspaper clippings from when we wives got to smear our faces with our husbands make up, wear thier gear, and play in thier Strykers.

I found a couple of old rosters (outdated now) that I always kept on the fridge in case I needed to get a hold of somebody- anybody- at times. I also kept some of the papers and booklets that I was given when I was a 'point of contact' for the FRG. I think I was supposed to return all that but I never did. I even have the award I was given when my husband re-upped. They gave it to me to show appreciation for my support, but I really think it was to just try and make me feel better.

Somewhere I have a small picture, framed, of when my husband earned his EIB many years ago and was pinned (or should I say punched) by his squad leader. Both are in the picture and of course it brings back a flood of memories just by looking at it. Squad BBQ's and drunkfests being some fond memories for me. At the time, my husband was a brand new infantryman, which made me a brand new infantrywife. His first squad was definately the most memorable. The guys and families (the few of us that existed) were close for a long time until everything came tumbling down, which tends to happen every so often from what I've seen. It's to bad, really. I'll always remember them- the families, the soldiers, the good times...as will my husband even more so.

Now everybody is either getting out of the army (screaming F.T.A! the whole freakin way), moving thousands of miles away, or just PCSing to where ever the hell Uncle Sam says to go.

I don't really bother with trying to stay in touch. I'm just not like that. When I make a rare friend, she's a friend for life and if I run into her five years down the road, we'll pick up from where we left off. But until then, it's just easier if I let it all go. Time to move on and look for the new. Besides the phone calls and emails just dwindle down anyway, until there's nothing left but distant memories. So be it.

Just Another Sunday

2006-03-26T23:10:00.000-08:00

This morning I woke up with every intention of getting myself to church. I even considered trying to get my husband to go. After laying out my daughters dresses and making a simple breakfast, I asked him. Of course he gave me that mumbled answer- the kind of answer that is an awkward no. I don't get upset anymore. I have no right to, for I rarely go myself. I also know I haven't stood in his boots or been where he's been. But time and time again, it's been on my mind. My husband used to go more often- before he joined the army and even a little afterwards. But since he's come back from Iraq, I think he's yet to set foot in a church. Some say war will make a man suddenly begin to pray to God. I say war has tried to make my husband lose his religion. All he's done, all he's seen... He lost a lot of friends in Iraq. He also lost a leader in his unit that he looked up to and admired. One who was God fearing and went to church. That man got shot and left behind a wife and little children, and my husband just doesn't get that. He wonders why God allows such things. I know he worries that my faith may be in vain.

Despite all this, I'm not to concerned. I know he's earned a place in Heaven because as the saying goes, he's already been to hell.

2006-03-23T22:02:00.001-08:00

Another round of friends moving away. I'll deal. I always do.

Life on the old army post has been fairly consistent...catty wives, bratty kids, the occasional armywife murder, still paying only $1.80 for a gallon of milk at the commissary (add just 50 cents more for a gallon of chocolate milk), highly anticipated PCS yard sales are finally making appearances all over post, high-ranking officers wives are getting honors and awards for serving in the FRG while the enlisted wives are busy giving the true support to each other... Yeah, it's all pretty consistent around here.

The third anniversary of the war came and went without so much as a blink. For me, anyway. I think there were anti-war protests somewhere off post, but I didn't care. We can always count on our beloved pro-military supporters just outside of the gates to take care of them. I mean, I understand the war protesters want peace as well as to bring our troops home...wouldn't that be nice. But I just don't see it happening anytime soon.

The day the terrorists decide that they don't want to hurt others anymore is the day the anti-war protesters will finally get thier way. And more importantly, it will be the day that Army wives, Army moms, and Army brats will be able to rest thier heads peacefully at night, just knowing that thier soldier is finally safe.

I Felt Brave.

2006-03-20T22:31:00.000-08:00

I went to Oregon to visit my family for a few days. I even stayed at my sister's apartment and met her new roommate. Her roommate is 29, single, and likes Star Wars and Star Trek and all things slightly different. Surprisingly, we got along pretty well. She knew my husband is in the Army and at first acted a little strange about it, especially when she made a comment about the bumper stickers on her car- how she put them there just to give others a chance to read something while sitting in traffic.

I wasn't quite sure what she was talking about until the last day, as I was leaving and saw all the stickers. One had a comical picture of President Bush and under it read, "Daddy's Little War Criminal." Most of them were anti-war slogans. I was slightly taken back but was glad that I didn't know her political stance because I probably wouldn't have connected with her as well, had I known. There are alot of interesting people in Oregon. Alot of freaky people. A hell of alot of tree hugger types. I'm from Oregon. Shit.

Moments that Stick Out

2006-03-06T14:46:00.000-08:00

Countless times, my husband runs into old buddies from work. The most memorable being the other day, miles away from post, when he saw a guy he went to Iraq with and who has since left the Army. His memories must have still been very fresh in his mind because upon seeing my husband, he gave him a big bear hug. And for just one moment, the Infantry was all that mattered again.

An occasional visit to the old Officers Club for lunch with my husband, despite the dirty looks from the officers- just because we can.

A friend crosses her fingers, puts her head in her hands, and says, "My husband's unit has only lost two soldiers so far, and they are almost home. God willing, they won't lose anymore..."

I occasionally have to remind my husband that he is not at work and could he please say 'please' when spitting out an order at us. Or better yet, just try asking instead of ordering.

When driving by the freeway overpass outside of the post gates, we wave to the military supporters and well-wishers who gather there weekly to fly American flags and to cheer on everyone who is military related, especially the soldiers.

In a recent conversation, another friend casually tells me that one of her husbands' soldiers was shot in the face right in front of him during an ambush and that her husband needs a break from Iraq after everything he's been through, so he is going to become a recruiter or a drill sergeant for awhile. Don't we ladies realize that this kind of casual conversation just isn't quite normal?

My children often "Fall in" or "Move out"and always know what to do when they hear thier daddy say, "At ease," hence his way of getting them to quiet down.

Learning that the best way for us to do a countdown involves an erasable sign that says 'Daddy comes home in 24 paydays' instead of '365 days.'

Excitement is in the air, knowing that military appreciation day is just around the corner for free tickets to the Mariners game and a free weekend to Wild Waves.

It is now a habit for me to ask my husband if he has his beret as he walks out the door each morning. I've saved his ass a time or two.

A broken bottle of Jack, angrily thrown onto the driveway at 4:00 a.m. and not caring that my husband is pissed because I just wasted his twenty bucks.

Taking my daughters to the on-post theater and being proud that they (as well as all the other army kids) know to stand respectfully for the flag and American Anthem as it is played before each movie.

My husband knows that I may join the Army as a nurse. When I have my moments of discouragment or laziness, he is sure to give me his favorite line, "How are you going to become an Airborne Ranger ?!" He knows it puts a smile on my face and gives me a push to try harder.

I know I'm not alone when I cry everytime I hear the song, "God Bless the USA." I personally think of the men my husband worked with who have died so that I can have my rights and freedom.

We often stop at bake sales and various fundraisers whenever it involves supporting our troops or veterans, especially our Vietnam Vets.

The rare and very touching moments, when out to dinner at a restaurant, someone realizes that my husband is a soldier and anonymously pays for our dinner- no matter what the price.

Occasional phone calls in the middle of the night- my husband's fellow soldiers asking him for a ride home from the bar, always including an apology for me because they know it's so late.

The wallpaper on my computer is a picture of my husband while he was in Iraq, his kevlar on and weapon in hand. Sometimes I look at it and still can't let myself believe that he was really there.

Infantrymen and Alcohol

2006-03-01T13:28:00.000-08:00

The other night ended up being more than just a Friday night movie. Actually, there was no movie at all. After I miraculously found a babysitter for the night, my husband and his friend took it upon themselves to hit a few bars off-post and bring me along as the *designated driver*

It only reminded me why I rarely go to those places. Sitting by myself while they played pool, a guy with a shaved head (he was drunk off his ass) came over trying to get some interaction from me. It wouldn't have been such a big deal but as gone as he was, he had no idea what he was doing, even when my husband and his friend came over to help get rid of him. This guy didn't care that I had a husband and he was even getting a little physical. The only thing that saved his ass was the fact that he was a joe and my husband (knowing how drunk he was) went easy on him. It was a little intimidating for me though. I felt powerless and that's not a good feeling. Maybe it's time to go back to my beloved kickboxing classes and freshen up. A good kick to the cack... teach bad joe joe a lesson or two.

So on the occasion that I hang out with my husband while he buddies up to some whiskey and coke, well...it always turns out interesting. I recall having three dining room chairs broken not to long ago when my husband had some guys from work over. It never fails. It's no wonder they are all told to behave every Friday afternoon at formation (they are also told to stick together and don't get caught if they do get in trouble.)

Honestly, there are times my goody-goody life can get so monotonous and boring that I am desperate for some sort of entertainment. Maybe that's why I put up with the bullshit...maybe I was army-issued after all.