So yesterday, I got a DM on Twitter. And I thought ‘Oh great, someone else has seen that picture of me…’ But, no, in fact this was not spam, it was someone with a question. They wanted to know Dh’s rank before they followed me. Um…. So we’re gonna go ahead and go there, friends! What I’ve learned about Rank 1. If you’re not in the military, you don’t have one. Most important of all the points. I am not in the military. I don’t have a rank. And as amusing as this little piece is, it’s satire. No one is giving me a rank any time soon. That’s OK by me. Let’s say it together, friends. I’m not in the military. I don’t have a rank. Excellent. 2. Ranks Have a Purpose. Rank is not some arbitrary annoying rule put together by the military to make your life more difficult. When soldiers are in battle, there needs to be Leaders. Those leaders need to make objective, life and death commands quickly. That is profoundly harder if you are good friends with those who you are Commanding. And that is the purpose of Rank. It might be awkward for two people to be friends socially if one is above the other in a direct Chain of Command. It’s hard to maintain a friendship with your boss. It’s done, don’t get me wrong. People do it. But it can be difficult to be best friends with your direct superior. Separating work and friendships can be tough. And that’s OK. But for non-military people reading, the…
Fun facts about DH as he turns 31… – He loves Van Morrison. It drives me nuts because the hard drive of our van has a bunch of Van Morrison songs on it, which is jarring when you go from Skillet to ‘Brown Eye’d Girl.’ And for the record, I have blue eyes. – He wear slippers all the time and, more importantly/disturbingly, he brings them with him places to wear at other peoples houses! Are we 80? ‘Hey, what’s in your purse?’ “oh, pardon me, that’s just my husbands slippers.” – The only thing that make him look older from 10 years ago is desert sand induced eye wrinkles. And they only make him look sexier. – He’s the one who wanted my daughter’s ears pierced. Because I shaved her head when she was 3 and had lice. Since then she’s just had very short curly hair. I think to him he feels like the earrings make up for the hair. – This weekend, he made us watch the new Footloose on Netflix. That’s all I’m going to say about that. – Speaking of Netflix, I secretly email TopGear begging them not to update their seasons on there for fear of losing my husband again. –He has never had a cavity. Ever. I not so secretly hate him for that. – He enlisted at 17. He was married at 19. He went to Afghanistan for the first time when he was 20. He had his first child 9 days after he turned 21. He had three tours to Afghanistan and…
This weekend, on May 19th, is mine and DH’s 11th Wedding Anniversary. And I’m going to let you in on a little known fact. It’s actually not. It’s true, even ask my husband who had his security clearance papers returned because he used this date as his wedding date. If you look at our Marriage Certificate, our actual anniversary is in March. Why, you ask? Because we were 19. We were broke. We couldn’t even afford an apartment and if we were going to be married and actually live together, we needed to live in military housing. Military housing required a marriage certificate to place us on the waiting list for a house. The waiting list was one month long. Before we were married, I lived with my parents in a city about 3 hours away from him. He lived in the single quarters on base. It was not an option for either of us to move in with the other, so had we waited until our wedding to put in our names for a house, we would have had to wait a month in order to live together. A month still being apart after our wedding. We were unwilling to do that. So we went to the office of our Pastor with 2 of our friends and signed papers. In our jeans a t-shirts. With no one there but the required witnesses. We didn’t invite our parents. I think we might have gone out for lunch with a friend after. And that was that. When I walked down the aisle at that fancy dream wedding I mentioned here, I wasn’t scared he’d run. Technically, he was already my husband. The army, it…
In Canada, when a soldier serves 12 years of Service (you know, without getting in too much trouble or breaking any laws….) they get a medal. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Canadian_Forces_Decoration It is called the CD. Canadian Forces Decoration. You don’t have to do anything beside be a soldier for 12 years to get it (which, don’t get me wrong, is a pretty important!). Once you recieve it, you even get to put a C.D. after your name on important documents. Pretty fancy shmancy. Needless to say (or this post would have no point but to bore you with military medal trivia), DH reached his 12 years last weekend. That doesn’t mean he has the medal now, that will take however many months of paperwork and the like. But, it means he is eligible. 12 years ago he walked into the Recruiting Center with his mom and dad, having completed his enlistment process while he was still in highschool and stood there just after his 18th birthday to make the final step… Swearing his Oath to the Queen and Country before shipping off to Basic Training. October 8, 1999 And I remember it then, because I remember him then. I didn’t get to go to the Swearing In. It was for family only and I was just a girlfriend. A highschool girlfriend, no less, I am sure that it was assumed the relationship would be short lived once he was actually out the door. But I was there for everything else. I was there the night before he got on the plane, sitting in a park by ourselves when he asked if I was going to wait for him and I cried. Oh, how long 12 weeks…
Today my DH turns 30 years old. That’s right, 6 months after my big 3-0. I’ve heard nothing but obnoxious comments the whole time, too, so it’ll be nice to be back on even playing field again. Now 30 is not old, per say, but I met him when we were 13. Not many wives have been around their husbands long enough or early enough to have ‘grown up’ together. But we can. 13 years ago when we started dating, I thought he was pretty great. But I have to say that was only a fabulous preview of who he is now. Last year, I wrote this post about him. It is called “Because Love is Worth Missing Sometimes“. And it still is. I still mean every word. Being his wife is one of my many undeserved blessings. If I think back to the 19 year old man I married, back when we still paid as much in car insurance as we did rent because if his age, back when he could still eat a whole pizza himself and back when he was much more convinced of his own invincibility… it seems like he is so much different now. Looking at the pictures of us on his 18th birthday, pictures when he left for Basic Training, pictures from our wedding day, we look so much younger. Don’t get me wrong. He still can’t grow a beard if he tried and he still has an amazing babyfaced smile that makes my heart melt. But we’re not the young kids on the block anymore. There was a time when everywhere we went…
I write most of my blogs in my head while running. I need to focus off of the screaming lungs and the aching calves. So I write in my head. Usually, what I write is never published. A lot of the time, I just disappear into old memories or stories that never come out. This week, it seemed to be the same memory, over and over. It was of a funeral. One I was attending, not really knowing if I should, for a 25 year old soldier who had been serving with Dh. He had been my husband’s comrade, killed by an IED days before they were all coming home. I felt like I had no business being at that funeral, like I was intruding on their pain, but there I was with 2 other military wives, sitting in the back. And soldiers brought in the casket, draped in the flag. And I had it all together. Even through the bagpipes, the casket, the ceremony. I may have mentioned I am not a crier? I am not. And I wasn’t. Until I saw him. Every soldier who is killed overseas has an escort home. A comrade who will travel with him and stay with his fallen friend until he is buried. Everyone else taking part in the funeral is wearing their best. Shined, polished, looking strong and formal to lay one of their own to rest. From the pallbearers to the guests, every military member is in full dress uniform. Except for the escort. He’s exhausted, you can tell just by looking at him. His face is pale and his eyes are red. His last few days have been made up of sitting next to grieving family, helping with funeral arrangements and making sure…
This week is my 10 year anniversary. And, not suprisingly, my dh is where he usually is during ‘major’ life events… off saving the world somewhere while I stay home and look after the kids. He was a little upset to miss it. I reminded him he wasen’t home for our first anniversary, or most of the anniversaries in between, and so why ruin the whole trend we have going? It’s just a day. And him not being home doesn’t make us less married. In fact, it makes it the perfect anniversary. Because, in fact, if he were home, I would have EXPECTATIONS. And, invariably, those expectations would not be reached. There would be disapointment. I would be thinking “but it wasen’t as perfect as I pictured.” When a husband deploys what you have, in essence, is the perfect husband for however long he is gone. Because really, how can you fault him for anything while he’s away? He doesn’t leave the toilet seat up, mess up the kitchen, hog the bathroom or fill the laundry room with his crap and make it impossible to do anyone elses laundry but his own. He’s off being all heroic. And your memories of him soon become perfect memories of a perfect life together. It’s total fiction, but it’s wonderful. So while he’s away this anniversary, I will remember those perfect moments and how he’s the perfect husband while I have the chance. Before he get’s home and my front room looks like the army came and threw up in it…
One month from today will be my 10 year Wedding Anniversary. That means that exactly 10 years ago, I was finishing college exams and putting the finishing touches on the ridiculous dream wedding that was coming fast. I had just turned 20. I had no idea what I was doing. I was excited and naive and spoiled and immature. I had lots of ideas of what life would be like and even more about what my wedding day would look like. I would like to write a letter to me, 10 years ago, and let me know what was and wasn’t important. Dear Me ver. 2001 This month will be busy. You are excited and nervous and for the most part acting like a spoiled brat. Since I am 10 years older and so very much more mature, there are some things I have decided you should know: 1. Breathe. You can stress out making place cards and finding the perfect Guest Book until you are blue in the face. People are going to sit where they want. You are going to misplace the guestbook and you won’t even realize it’s gone. 2. I have no idea what possessed you to think singing at your own wedding was a good idea. You can practice all you want, you can’t sing. You will sound terrible. You will cry partway through which will only make it worse. 3. Do it anyway. 4. In the end, he will feel worse about the bachelor party than you do right now. Let it go. 5. You are beautiful. You don’t think you are, but you are. And most importantly, he thinks you are. So lay off the tanning bed before you give 40 year old…
