Day 201

The younger me would have never—ever, imagined myself married to someone in the military.  I didn’t know anyone actively serving or grow up in a military community, so my only views of those in uniform were shaped by, well, movies.   But, I suppose life takes us places we never anticipated all the time.  So, 12 or so years ago, when a co-worker wanted to introduce me to her single neighbor who was incidentally, a fighter pilot, I told her that wasn’t my type.

I mean, I knew all about those fighter pilots.  I had seen Top Gun, twice.

You know the end of the story.   We did meet and I found that my perceptions do not always mesh with reality. This is a lesson I have learned about many things over the course of my life.  For instance, fighter pilots are usually just really smart determined guys (and a handful of gals) that got good grades and managed to have enough focus to get themselves to a service academy or through ROTC and subsequently work really hard all the way through pilot training. And, there is a liberal dose of timing, luck and desire sprinkled into the equation.   Also, I have never ONCE seen my husband nor his co-workers playing beach volleyball.*

Although they do give themselves call signs and run around calling each other cutesy names like, Trigger, Finch, Grynch, and Modo.

Did I say cutesy?  I meant fierce.

So, now a decade later, one of my identities (other than working mom, accidental minimalist and daughter) is military spouse.  Although unanticipated, it is an identity of which I am proud.  We are a tough crowd spending many holidays and milestones either alone or as a single parent.  We live life with the constant hum of fear nattering at our brain that this is the call or doorbell that will bring bad news.  I could go on, but any more seems like whining and that is not my intent.

We do our own “soldiering on”.

This time when Trigger left we weren’t sure if he was going to be gone six months or a year.   For those of you that aren’t military, you are probably wondering how in the world that works.  The military folks reading this are nodding in complete understanding.   So, we figured we would just plan for the worst case scenario and adjust downward.

And as you know, I moved the kids back to Colorado and started The Simple Year project.

And then, YEAH! He got to come home in six months.

DADDY, DADDY, DADDY

He will be with us for a week and then head back down to Texas to his assigned base.  We decided not to move the kids out of their schools, so he is going solo for now. It is the type of decision military families make frequently.   On the up side, no one will be firing rocket propelled grenades in his general direction.

He insists he is “on board” with The Simple Year and will comply even in his quasi-bachelor situation.  However, he has been home for three days and has already inquired about his options for acquiring, new sunglasses, running shoes and a laptop.

See, this is where I do my best not to appear to be a controlling she-devil and just smile nicely and suggest that if we REALLY need those things perhaps we can search for them on EBay. I am still trying to be extra nice to him since he’s only been home a couple of days, so I said this doing my best kindergarten teacher impersonation, speaking in a high pitched slow voice.

So, it might be a bit of an uphill battle.  But in all honesty he has never personally purchased many things unless you can get it at a liquor store and only occasionally radio shack (yes, they are still doing a brisk business in West Texas).

I think we can do it…

*For those of you that have never seen it, I give you the beach volleyball scene from Top Gun.