March 24, 2005

P.S.

Many have reminded me of my love of wifeing. Of course I want to wife my husband; that's why I'm upset. He's doing all the husbanding! I am the one working all day and he has to take care of the house and cheer me up when I get home. That's not what I wanted at all! I wanted to take care of him...

We're doing OK. We've been talking a lot about how we felt during the deployment, all the stuff that went unsaid when we only had the instant messenger to convey our thoughts. Puzzle pieces are falling into place, and we're working through the usch.

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March 23, 2005

USCH UPDATE

The husband has also been feeling a little usch, so we've been trying to joke about it and keep things light. We both are dealing with new feelings: he feels completely without purpose, since he's stopped cold after running himself ragged for a year. Now he has no platoon and no duties, and he's entirely unsure what to do with himself. He has no professional goals for the next 90 days, and it's driving him nuts. I, on the other hand, am trying to keep from constantly talking about how I want to choke some middle schoolers, and I'm having a hard time being cheerful at the end of a long day. So he's super bored, I'm super irritated, and we have a computer virus. We've got a lot of crap on our plates, and we're just trying hard to stay positive. We've been talking a lot lately about the puppies that are gestating now.

Last night I had a dream that my husband made the move to Finance and they deployed him to Spain for six weeks. Nevermind that this makes no sense; I was still devastated. In my dream I kept arguing that we were still under stop-move and he couldn't leave again. I guess even though it's rough reintegrating, I'd rather have him home than in Spain.

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March 22, 2005

NOT INTEGRATING

I am having a little trouble reintegrating. I debated whether I would even blog about it or not, but I thought that others whose soldiers have just returned (or just left) might be interested to hear how we're handling all of this. I think I'm having issues with sharing. For a whole year, I've had the entire house to myself. I did whatever I wanted and cleaned up only after myself, and so I feel myself getting irritated at stupid little things that I know are only bothering me because I haven't had to deal with them for a year, like my husband's ridiculously loud alarm clock. I actually think it's harder on me right now than it was when we first got married, because at least then I had two roommates in school. I've been completely selfish for a year, and it's making me grumpy that my lifestyle has changed. It also doesn't help that I'm working full time while my husband is not, so he's at home doing nothing and I'm wrestling with seventh graders all day long. Though I must say he's not really doing nothing, because he's being a great house-husband. He's vacuuming and taking care of our car insurance and being helpful. However, it feels weird to me to have him in charge of the household, since that's been my lane for our entire marriage. It's been my job for so long that it feels weird to let go of the responsibility, and I feel a little useless and not in control. My usch level is way up, and I find myself getting irritated with trivial things. I hope the feeling doesn't last for long.

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March 15, 2005

ALL REINTEGRATED

My husband is on his last day of reintegration. He's adjusting quite well, considering the tempo of his mission for the last year, and he's come away with minor woes, namely his back and feet. He's having trouble sleeping on our bed -- perhaps since he's used to sleeping on a cot or tank -- and he's waking up with a sore back. He also used to have the smoothest, nicest feet I'd seen, but this year in Iraq has just destroyed them. They're cracked and peeling and really awful. I just keep slathering him with Ben Gay and foot lotion, poor guy.

Also last night he and I were talking about all the myths that people throw around: all soldiers are poor, all Republicans are racists, etc. Today, thanks to RWN, I find a good article debunking the men-make-more-than-women myth.

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March 11, 2005

AWWW

My husband packed my lunch for me today before school, and he put one of those little "I love you" notes in like moms do for their kids. He also packed way too much food for me. He's the best.

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March 09, 2005

FIRST

When they finally released the soldiers -- and I swear Red 6's ceremony was far shorter than my husband's -- I skipped over to my husband, grabbed his hands, and said, "Hi." And we were back to normal. We stood and talked for a while before I said, "Can I have a kiss?"

redeployment.jpg

Yesterday I wrote how proud I am of my husband, but last night he made me even prouder. He hadn't slept in two days, he hadn't eaten dinner or gotten any lovin', but the first thing he wanted to do was check on his soldiers. We spent our first hour together in the barracks, passing out bottles of beer and introducing me to his guys. I am so proud that he put them first.

And though you told me to stay away, you know I won't resist the blogging temptation for long...

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March 08, 2005

READY

Shaved legs? Check. Perfume? Check. Fancy underpants? Check. Husband's wedding ring? Check. Ready to go.

I also want to thank all of you who have been "deployed" along with me for an entire year. I appreciate all your support and good wishes. It means a lot to me to hear from all of you.

And now, I'm off!!!!

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March 07, 2005

WHEW

If everything goes according to plan, this should be my 387th and last night of sleeping in an empty bed...

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March 05, 2005

NERVOUS

Our extra two and a half weeks of deployment have gone fairly quickly. I was sick for the first week and then I was getting emotionally beaten by 7th graders for the second, so I haven't really had time to feel lonely. I am, however, a tad disgruntled that my husband's tardy arrival will make us unable to attend Red 6's wedding as we had originally planned: reintegration activities are a poor substitute for being by our best friend's side as he marries, but I just have to let that disappointment go.

So the countdown for Return of the Husband is small enough to be counted on one hand. Hmm.

In a way, I feel a tiny bit nervous, to be honest. I can't quite put my finger on why. It will be a big change for both of us to be living together again after 13 months apart. He's gotten used to an enormous amount of sharing; I have shared virtually nothing for a year. He's been sleeping on a cot; I've been taking up the whole bed. He's been eating sub-standard food; I've been eating water chestnuts and carrot cake and all the delicious things that make him yak. My life has been so easy, and his has not.

I talked to The Girl the other night, and she told me how sorry she was that I had to wait so much longer than everyone else to get my husband home. I said that the real pity lies with the soldiers, that they have not done a single thing since 18 February and that I feel just awful that they're stuck so far from home. She laughed and said it was nice that I was thinking of the soldiers and not of myself, but how on earth can I complain about my feelings in comparison? Though I have complained this year about grading too many papers and getting paid too little, my life is a walk in the park. I know this. I couldn't possibly live with myself if I didn't acknowledge and respect how difficult my husband's life has been this year.

My husband is my favorite person in the whole world, so I can't figure out where the nerves are coming from. Perhaps I'm worried about wifeing him to death. Perhaps it just seems to good to be true that he'll be home in a few days. I don't know what it is that is making me so freaked out that this week has finally come.

Actually, I know what it is. It's the thought that I will have to leave him the day after he gets home and go wrestle with a bunch of 12 year olds. That's enough to make me sick to my stomach.

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ANXIETY

The gym was packed with anxious families for the welcome home ceremony. I helped my friend's kid onto my shoulders so he could see better as the soldiers entered the gym. They got released and ran to their wives, and I realized that mine wasn't there. I thought there must have been some misunderstanding about which day he was arriving, when I saw a second group of soldiers enter the gym. There he was. As I ran to him, I got so excited that I woke myself up before I ever touched him.

I've not been sleeping well lately. My dreams are a mess of 7th graders and welcome home ceremonies. I have been told an arrival day for my husband next week, and I keep fretting about whether he's going to arrive during the school day. I managed to put myself in an extremely stressful situation a week before my husband returns from war. What a stupid move.

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March 03, 2005

HATE

I've been at the school for three days, and I officially hate my students. But that's fine, because since I hate them, I don't care if they hate me. So we stayed an excruciatingly silent three minutes after the final bell rang, and I think they got the message. But we'll see tomorrow.

I don't really hate them, but you know what I mean. I have a problem with wanting to be liked. I want my blog readers to like me. I want the students to like me. I want my husband's soldiers to like me. It's my character flaw that I want to be liked, because sometimes it's not good to be liked. Sometimes you have to be a jerk. My husband learned that lesson in Iraq, and I am learning it this week.

The students' grades are suffering too. They're talking instead of working, and therefore their work is sloppy and incomplete. Most of them got F's on their in-class assignment today. I don't know if the bad grades will force them to take notice, but I've certainly noticed when I look in the grade book.

Thank heavens their regular teacher is having twins: she is procreating double to make up for the child I'm rethinking wanting to have!

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SO TIRED

My job with the college might've paid peanuts, but I never came home exhausted. I'm ready for bed when school ends at 1500.

And I think I can finally report that my husband is in Kuwait. I don't have any firsthand knowledge of his whereabouts, but his commander says that he's in Kuwait. So we're gonna assume he's finally there.

Time to pack my lunch...

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March 01, 2005

EXHAUSTED

You know how they say that one bad apple can spoil the bunch? Well, one bad class period can make you feel like you've been run over by a truck. The 7th graders were doing very well until last period. Last period was out of control. I'm still not 100% from being sick last week, and I was going hoarse trying to shout over them. They were insane, and they kinda ruined the whole day for me.

But really, other than that last class, it was fine. Except what is up with kids' names these days? The spellings are killing me: four girls named Kaitlyn, Caitlin, Katelynn, and Kaitland. My goodness. And how do you pronounce Mireya and Aryal? I thought I had it bad when most of my ESL students were Korean and Chinese!

I'm beat. Time for a little Simpsons with Red 6.

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February 25, 2005

SWEET

Life. Is. Good.

So I woke up this morning to the wonderful sound of my husband getting online, which incidentally is the Futurama theme song. (Now any time I hear it, I have this Pavlovian response where my heart goes "Husband?". But I digress.) My husband woke me up, which is cool.

But no, he's not in Kuwait.

Anyway, then he called later too, which was excellent. He's so bored, since his transfer of authority was like a week ago. So twice in one day, awesome.

Some things today were not so awesome though, like the fact that we live on an Army post where you can't buy green thread. Nope. None. What on earth? How am I supposed to change his insignia to Black Diamond if I can't buy green thread? Shouldn't that be the most obvious color for Clothing and Sales to offer? Nothing in the military is black or white, but those are the colors they sell. Sheesh.

By the way, Black Diamond is really fun to say, in a super-dramatic voice.

So I went to get the mail this evening, and the yarn I've been waiting for for like, oh, say, two and a half months just arrived. And then I stopped by the Shopette to rent a movie, and there was nothing good to rent, so I was wandering around aimlessly and managed to run smack dab into a display of South Park Season 5. Wha? When I called yesterday, they didn't have any. But now they do...

Yarn? Check. South Park Season 5? Check. Illness subsiding? Check.

And then, as I sat down to write this post, the husband got online again. Thrice in one day.

I'm walkin' on sunshine, woa-oh-oh!

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February 24, 2005

STUPID

I have this stupid personality trait where I hate taking medicine. I don't know why I hate it so much, but I end up like I am today: it's my fourth day of being sick and I couldn't figure out why I felt so crappy, and then I remembered that I haven't taken any medicine. My mom and I are constantly having this dumb conversation where I say I feel bad and then she says, "Well, did you take any medicine?" and I irritably answer, "No." And then I wonder why I feel bad. I don't know why I do that, it's so dumb, but I do it all the time. It's probably because I don't really think it works. Last night I took NyQuil and two Tylenol PM and I was still awake.

But now, you know, fourteen hours later, I can barely hold my head up straight. Maybe the stuff is finally kicking in. Anyways, I just took some DayQuil and opened a Coke, so maybe that will jolt my eyelids open. Or at least help me stop breathing out of my mouth. I can't even concentrate on knitting today, so you know I must be on death's doorstep.

So the SITREP is still the same as yesterday: I'm still sick and the husband still isn't in Kuwait.

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February 23, 2005

WIFEING

Wifeing: showering one's husband with attention and doing the little things that wives do for husbands (e.g. feed, clothe, clean, and take care of)

The thing that's been hardest these last two months is not wifeing. I love wifeing. At least while my husband was gone I could send letters and treats and tokens of affection. When the mail stopped, I stopped being able to properly wife. It kills me that I can't do anything for my husband right now. I can't even open his foot locker! I have all of this wifeing building up inside of me that I won't get to use for another three weeks.

I have to keep reminding myself not to smother Red 6. I'm not his wife. If he'd let me, I'd be washing all of his laundry, sewing his uniforms, and being glued to his hip. At least he lets me cook for him, but only when I beg him.

I just want my husband home so I can wife him.

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WEIRD

My sickness is moving backwards. Have you ever heard of starting with deep coughs and filled lungs and then moving to a runny nose and sore throat? Isn't that backwards? I can't figure this out.

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February 21, 2005

SNAP OUT OF IT

While I was at Red 6's welcome home ceremony yesterday, my husband left a message on the answering machine. He's now "acting commander" for his entire battalion in Iraq: he's the highest ranking person still in sector. Everyone else is home or already in Kuwait. My biggest sorrow is that those 86 soldiers will be totally forgotten when they arrive here in March. No one will even remember there's a war on.

But when Mrs. Sims leaves a comment on your pity-party post, it's time to cowboy up.
Life could be a lot rougher.

Red 6 and I had a great time catching up. It's wild that the minute he stepped into our house, it was like he never left. How many times have I cooked dinner while he watched Futurama? (Granted, he was always watching with my husband, but still.) It felt like a time warp, like nothing had changed and like it was only last week that I'd seen him on the sofa.

It's good to know that some things never change.


MORE TO GROK:

I still can't get over her comment. She would have been completely justified to start with "Listen here, you whiny bitch...", but she's as polite as can be. She is trying to make me feel better! I will never be able to put into words how amazing I think this woman is.

Red 6 always says that I'm the perfect Army wife. I can only hope to be half the woman that Mrs. Sims is.

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February 18, 2005

PHONE CALL

My husband called tonight; it was the first time we've talked on the phone since Christmas Eve. It was great to hear him, though the static and delay reminded us why we never use the phones. He said he was bored -- amazingly enough, it's the first time he's used that word since he got to Iraq. He seemed in very good spirits, and my favorite bit of the conversation was when he said that his soldiers keep asking him if he has any more news about their departure. He said he keeps replying with jokes like "well, we might have to hunt Easter eggs inside the tank, but we should be home by Mother's Day, so buy a gift." Glad to see they're making the best of a crap situation.

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February 16, 2005

BUT YOU DID NOT COME

In honor of Annika's poetry Wednesday, I offer a selection from This Is My Beloved, my favorite book of poetry of all time. It was my grandmother's book, and I used to read it sneakily in her house and titter at some of the more intimate passages. When my grandmother moved into a nursing home and whittled her belongings down to one cabinet, I got the book. Now that I am older, I no longer titter. I could read this book a hundred times -- I have -- and still find new delights. Today's passage reflects my mood...

                I waited years today . . . one year for every hour,
all day -- though I knew you could not come till night
I waited . . . and nothing else in this God's hell meant anything.

I had everything you love -- shellfish and saltsticks . . . watercress,
black olives. Wine (for the watch I pawned), real cream
for our coffee. Smoked cheese, currants in port, preserved wild cherries.

I bought purple asters from a pushcart florist and placed them where
they would be between us --
imagining your lovely face among them . . .

But you did not come . . . you did not come.
You did not come. And I left the table lit and your glass filled --
and my glass empty . . . and I went into the night, looking for you.

The glittering pile, Manhattan, swarmed like an uncovered dung heap.
Along the waterfront
manlike shapes all shoulders and collar walked stiffly like shadow figures.

Later, the half-moon rose.
                                        Everywhere the windows falling dark.
By St. Mark's church, under the iron fence, a girl was crying. And the old
steeple was mouldy with moonlight, and I was tired . . . and very lonely.

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