Care packages make my day...

Day 2112: I love making care packages! It is quite possibly the only silver lining that I can find in deployment, other than maybe the tax free pay! Care packages are great because I feel like I am still taking care of my darling dear even though we are not around each other!

Months before his first deployment, I began researching and choosing themes and ideas that seemed the most interesting. From there I set out making a schedule of boxes (yes, I enjoy being crazy, over-organized). I planned a "happy birthday box" and a "I love you more than all the stars in the sky box," both of which were a hit!

My most recent design is the "fish in the sea" box! I packed it full of gummy fish, and octopuses as well as goldfish crackers and a go-fish game. Corny, I know, but I assumed he would probably throw away most of the toy like stuff anyways, since he can't bring it all home!

When I miss him madly, I add extra boxes to the list. I should supplement the gaps in packages with smaller ones, but sometimes I just can't help myself and I stumble upon so amazingly perfect things to compliment the themes! At least I feel helpful!!

It's an economy size chocolate donut kind of day...

Day 2064: Darling Dear and I have an agreement. Every time that time of the month rolls around for negative pregnancy tests and crime scenes in pants, he buys me a pack of chocolate donuts. This pack of delicious, chocolate covered, buttermilk donuts has become a monthly staple in our home since we started our, what seems to be, tricky battle of producing an offspring.

Months have come and gone and boxes of donuts have been consumed to mask my feelings of disappointment and fulfill my hunger for something more. Try as the little donuts might, it just can't completely mask my void.

And now with Darling Dear gone until who knows when, I see months and months stretched out in front of me, littered with empty donut boxes and an empty uterus. A friend once told me that if the Navy wanted you to have children, they would have issued them, and I am starting to understand.

Military Wife Poem...

Day 2049: A few weeks ago, a friend of mine posted this poem and tagged me in it. As I read it, I shed a tear, knowing that I am not alone in the struggles that come with the military life.

Military Wife Poem
Lots of moving...
Moving...
Moving...
Moving far from home...
Moving two cars, three kids and one dog...all riding with HER of course.
Moving sofas to basements because they won't go in THIS house;
Moving curtains that won't fit;
Moving jobs and certifications and professional development hours.
Moving away from friends;
Moving toward new friends;
Moving her most important luggage: her trunk full of memories.

Often waiting...
Waiting...
Waiting...
Waiting for housing.
Waiting for orders.
Waiting for deployments.
Waiting for phone calls.
Waiting for reunions.
Waiting for the new curtains to arrive.
Waiting for him to come home,
For dinner...AGAIN!

They call her 'Military Dependent', but she knows better:
She is fiercely In-Dependent.

She can balance a check book;
Handle the yard work;
Fix a noisy toilet;
Bury the family pet...

She is intimately familiar with drywall anchors and toggle bolts.
She can file the taxes;
Sell a house;
Buy a car;
Or set up a move...
.....all with ONE Power of Attorney.

She welcomes neighbors that don't welcome her.
She reinvents her career with every PCS;
Locates a house in the desert, The Arctic, Or the deep south.
And learns to call them all 'home'.
She MAKES them all home.

Military Wives are somewhat hasty...
They leap into:
Decorating,
Leadership,
Volunteering,
Career alternatives,
Churches,
And friendships.
They don't have 15 years to get to know people.
Their roots are short but flexible.
They plant annuals for themselves and perennials for those who come
after them.

Military Wives quickly learn to value each other:
They connect over coffee,
Rely on the spouse network,
Accept offers of friendship and favors.
Record addresses in pencil...

Military Wives have a common bond:
The Military Wife has a husband unlike other husbands; his commitment is
unique.
He doesn't have a 'JOB'
He has a 'MISSION' that he can't just decide to quit...
He's on-call for his country 24/7.
But for her, he's the most unreliable guy in town!
His language is foreign
TDY
PCS
EPR
SOS
ACC
BDU
ACU
BAR
CIB
TAD
ABU
And so, a Military Wife is a translator for her family and his.
She is the long-distance link to keep them informed;
The glue that holds them together.

A Military Wife has her moments:
She wants to wring his neck;
Dye his uniform pink;
Refuse to move to Siberia;
But she pulls herself together.
Give her a few days,
A travel brochure,
A long hot bath,
A pledge to the flag,
A wedding picture,
And she goes.
She packs.
She moves.
She follows.

Why?
What for?
How come?
You may think it is because she has lost her mind.
But actually it is because she has lost her heart.
It was stolen from her by a man,
Who puts duty first,
Who longs to deploy,
Who salutes the flag,
And whose boots in the doorway remind her that as long as he is her
Military Husband,
She will remain his Military Wife.
And would have it no other way.

--Author Unknown

Have I gone Crazy!?!

Day 2047: Ever since I was a kid, when I asked my dad where we were going, he always replied, "crazy," regardless if he actually knew where we were going or not. This, in fact, drove me crazy! As an ultra nosey child, I hated not being in the know. 

I remember, when I was in high school, he most often used this term in regards to what restaurant we were going to. My brothers and I relentlessly argued about who should get to decide where we ate, and my father, probably worn to the brink of insanity, always replied, "crazy." It was at this time that I had formed the grant and somewhat unrealistic idea that I would like to someday open a restaurant, named Crazy.

My idea was brilliant. This restaurant would served cuisines from all around the world, so there would be no arguing or bickering about who won out the choice of restaurants. Everyone could have what they wanted, be it Mexican or Japanese, American or Italian. Everyone would come happy, leave happy at Crazy.

Now, years down the road, as I sit at my dinner table describing my fantastic idea to my husband, he has but three words for me: Old Country Buffet. Ok, ok. This is probably a realistically response to my description, but I my mind, I was thinking a little less buffet, a little more gourmet. But lucky for me he didn't entirely dismiss my idea, because it has advanced so much since I was a child. 

Enter: Crazy Cupcakes and Cuisines! Yes, I too, have fallen into the baking and cupcake faze that seems to be sweeping the nation. I just can help it. They are so darn cute. And nothing relaxes me more than the baking and artistic-ness that goes into a cupcake! Yum!

And maybe, this time it's not to unrealistic! Darling Dear loves to cook and he is GOOD at it!! I'm not too bad myself, but I would be more than happy to leave that side of my dream to him as I head up the bakery! I'm picturing a little, classy hole in the wall spot. Two front entrance with large glass windows. And every day, working along side my best friend, who I feel like I have already lost so much time with. 

It might sound insane, unrealistic, CRAZY! But maybe if we all just went Crazy a bit more, we would have more fun!

I've been everything...

Day 2039: I've been everything. Or at least I feel that way. In the last two year's I've relocated four times. Two different states, four different cities, thousands of miles apart. It's not uncommon with a military life. And it seems as if it's also not uncommon to be a chameleon as a military spouse! 

I've been in sales, in marketing, in customer service. Done technology, phonebooks, internet. I've been a caretaker of the elderly and a substitute mother type caregiver for more than enough children. I've worked in graphic design, insurance, and food service. And, really! I promise I'm not even that old! 

As the years have started to pass on since my grand departure from my life at school, I have learned that the world can be a tricky place, but if you are adaptable, you can be anything. You just can't be afraid to try. And believe me, there is very little I am afraid to try!

Sometimes I think it's a little crazy that I have tried so many things. My poor resume looks like a mishmash of experiences from every place that we've been. But those who have been willing to take me on know that I love to learn and that makes all the difference. I am willing to adapt and be what they need. I am a chameleon! And I'm proud.

Try not to care so much...

Day 2035: In the uphill battling of trying to conceive that my poor husband and I have been enduring for the last months of no success, I have to say, nothing frustrates me more than when people say “It will happen when you stop trying,” or “Try not to care so much…” Can you see me staring with horror, jaw dropped to the ground? 

I expected that baby making would be fun and easy. Why wouldn’t it be? Our parent’s never had any trouble. And, yes, while I will admit that the actual baby dancing action is fun, everything else that comes with it is not. People give opinions on if you are trying to soon or not soon enough, if you are trying too hard or not hard enough among the onslaught of the two week waits and visits from Aunt Flow. But my question remains, how do you care less, try less, or think less about it? If only I knew, my gosh, this would be so much easier.

And to make things worse, Pinterest and Facebook are crawling with pictures and ideas for the beautiful spawn of the world. Photo sessions with teeny flower headbands, tiny classy suits, my imagination has an endless stream of hopes and dreams for something that doesn’t even exist. And my gosh! Don’t even get me started on all the shopping! 

It seems that since we have walked the aisle of marriage every banner advertisement I’ve seen has something that I can’t help but picture using on or with our child. And the saver in me wants to start stocking up when I see a good deal, or even WORSE, when that beautiful convertible nursery set that I have been eyeing for months, each time hoping that this will be it, this will be the month that I need a place for our beautiful baby to sleep and grow, goes on sale, I feel like I cry a little inside. Because I can’t buy it now, knowing that I will have to look at it every day, reminding myself what we don’t have, but want so desperately bad.

I wish I could care less sometimes. It would make it easier as each month passes unsuccessfully, brought up with the tears and sadness that dashes away any hope that this time will be our chance. But we have been waiting our whole lives for this, and I have to remember that in the end, all the tears and chocolate donuts will be worth. And we probably won’t be able to care less, try less, or think about it less, just like you wouldn’t expect a child to care less and think less and just sleep the night before Christmas. And I can bet, that once our time does come, once we get to witness those two beautiful pink lines, all the waiting won’t matter anymore.

I broke my mason-jar cup...

Day 2027: Today I broke my Mason-Jar Cup that I got at a co-worker’s birthday party. I cried for half-an-hour. Now I realized this is very strange, and no, I am not pregnant or PMSing (I don’t think). This cup was my everyday reminder of Pensacola, Florida. And my life at the time.

To the everyday person, Pensacola may not seem like something to cry about, but for me it brought many tears, both happy and sad. Pensacola was the first time that I lived more than 30 miles away from my parents, and that in itself says a lot. I went to college just a few cities away from my hometown. It was during this time that I met and dated my husband. When he relocated to Pensacola, I followed when I could. I packed everything I owned in a tiny U-Haul that pulled my car behind it. The morning of my departure I sobbed uncontrollably as we drove away from my mother (I was lucky enough that my Dad volunteered to drive me down). Pensacola-sad tears, one. Pensacola-happy tears, zero. The same thing happened when I left my Dad at the airport to fly home.

Now, don’t get me wrong, I was so happy to finally be with my Darling Dear again, and while I had moved out of my parent’s house five years before, nothing quite hits you like the knowledge that you can’t just hop in a car and drive the 35 minute trip, when you need them. I was now more than 3,000 miles away. How’s that for having to put on the big girl pants!

For me, this was huge! I had never planned on moving out of state. Never! I loved hanging out with my parents so much that, on any given Friday night, that’s where I could be found, until Monday morning rolled around (And, yes, we all considered this moved out! I had my own apartment and everything!) Pensacola was proof that I could be an adult without them, and while I missed them every day, I knew I could hack it on my own (Sort of! My Husband was there, too.) As a young woman, entering into the military life, this was one of the greatest test, second only to distance from my husband (which we had experienced already as well).

In addition to the “coming of age away from my parents” thing, Pensacola was also the place that I had my first “grown-up” job. One month fresh from college and plastered by rumors of brand new graduates failing to find work, I was selected for a position in Sales and Marketing! This job entailed the coveted all-expense paid training in good ole’ Tallahassee and many long hours of hard work every day. If this wasn’t being a grown-up, I’m not sure what is! I finally had co-workers that were working for families and “real-life”, rather than just getting by in school, and I loved them! And then, we end up back at the cup. The cup that I got from a co-worker friend’s birthday party. My first grown-up, co-worker, real-life event. And now it’s broken. 

And in my mind, I know this is a stupid thing to be sad about, but it was my daily, visual reminder that I’m a big girl, in the real world, and I can do it!

To those raising the parents of the future...

Day 2022: As I wait in the parking lot to pick up the girl that I nanny, the last school bell rings. I dodge the speedy minivans racing off to the umpteenth activity their children have schedule for the day and I wonder to myself if this will be our life in ten years. Carpool, dance, hockey, play-dates! All I’ve got to do now is get myself a baby! Which is much harder than it looks, although, who am I to complain about it. This is just the easy part, right?

When I think back on my many nanny adventures, the long nights with a sick kid or taking two kids to two activates that start at the same time all by myself, I can’t express the amount of respect and admiration I have for the parents out there. For the people who are there unconditionally, rain or shine, to entertain, drive, work, love their children. And unlike myself, they can’t give them back! The selflessness that every parent has is not measureable, and I hope that one day, we can be those kinds of parents. 

Even more than that, are the military spouses who have to learn how to function as a single parent for some of the time and a parental team for the rest of the time. And I imagine that single parenting is hard enough without having to worry about the safety of your spouse! So here is to all the parents out there! Single or not, military or not! Though Mother’s day is just about a week away and Father’s day about a month, I think it’s never too soon to shout out to those raising the parents of the future!

My husband's dog crapped everywhere!

Day 2019: My husband's dog crapped everywhere! In her kennel, on her blanket, on her brother. Everywhere. And it's days like these that I sigh and think how much it sucks that my husband isn't here to help me clean this kind of thing up. But unlike the normal nine to fiver, my Darling Dear is in the Navy. Unexpected late nights and long days gone, are just part of the job description.

As I drag the two of them outside into the barely sunny, spring evening air, and spray them down, they look at me like they are being punished. I feel so bad as they shiver that I have to give them extra snacks to make them feel better, after they are clean, warm and dry inside. I fix myself some dinner and eat, standing at the kitchen counter. The only ones there to keep me company are my furry children. Like many nights before.

This is my life. And I choose it, I know, because it won't always be like this. I won't be alone every night. I won't have to spend every moment missing him. And because I'm lucky. Lucky to have someone to love, and lucky to be loved by someone. Lucky to know that our love is worth fighting for, and worth being lonely. And when I see him, I know that the sacrifices are always worth being a Saylor Turned Sailor's Wife.