Confessions of a Military Wife (12 page)

Alcohol upsets my stomach. We did a lot of partying while living on base, but I was very selective about what I drank. Many times I was the sober one of the group. As I’ve gotten “older,” I’ve stopped drinking alcohol as it causes debilitating migraines. Besides, I act stupid enough without adding alcohol to the equation.

But that night the Alize tasted like candy, so I took a few sips here and there, pacing myself like a mature lady.

What they don’t tell you about alcohol is that you’re not supposed to consume large amounts of it while in a hot tub. Evidently the alcohol and the heat work together as a toxic combo that can dehydrate you.

At one point during the party Beenie could not find me and began asking around.

One of the JAG’s wives said I was in the hot tub with Jon and another couple. Still, no one could find me anywhere, nor did they see me in the hot tub.

The other wife in the hot tub finally said to Jon, “I think she’s under water, I think I see her under your arm.”

Yes, I was drowning.

As Michelle would say, “Weeeeellllll!”

I think my husband had been using the top of my head to rest his beer bottle on. I had been under the water for at least a minute. Luckily, I was so wasted that I had stopped breathing.

After the party there were pictures circulating that showed me sliding below the surface of the water as my husband looks off into the distance—probably listening to one of Lloyd’s many stories.

Thanks, Lloyd.

After Beenie and Lloyd had their first child and Lloyd returned from his first deployment to Iraq, they decided to move into a terrific house about three doors down from ours. It soon became our weekend hang out.

Lloyd was the master at poker parties and spots filled up quickly. Natalie and her husband Carl, Jon and I, and Beenie and Lloyd were regulars at the Texas Hold’em table. We’d take the money of our regular guests at these all-night parties.

Beenie and I had a foot up on the competition because we did not drink. She didn’t because she was pregnant again and I didn’t because I am a lightweight.

Not only that, I am the master at bluffing at poker. I won’t give away my secrets, but there was many a night when either Beenie or I would claim the entire pot.

It was so much fun to do these normal neighborhood functions since so much of our time on base had been spent without our husbands. We went out of our way to plan fun events when everyone was home.

CAREER OPTIONS

Many military wives complain about not being able to find the right job.

I was fortunate to be offered a job practically my first week on base. My first day on the job I was delegating, multitasking, and shaping future lives of America. Who knew babysitting could be so rewarding?

Sometimes PCSing every three years can limit your career options. Your priority has to be to support your spouse.

I personally struggled with it. My husband’s schedule was so sporadic that I never wanted to be at work when he was home. It was also important to spend time with him before he deployed.

Some wives were lucky to find flexible jobs or work from home opportunities.

I remember wives who had decided to further their careers being very disappointed they had to work when their husband had leave.

During my husband’s time in the military I was a housewife, a volunteer, returned to work, and even attended college.

I went back to work full time toward the end of Jon’s military career. I was lucky to have a sales job, which was based out of my home and allowed me to make my own schedule. I did not have to miss Jon’s down time. Best of all, I was still able to take care of our home.

In many ways the lifestyle of a military family looks like a step back into the 1950s. Most moms stay home with their children. In fact, housewives are highly respected in the military. Women are praised for volunteering during the day and cooking their husband’s meals at night.

Are the feminists from the millennium freaking out right now? Well, with your husband deployed, do you think you are needed behind a desk at a company, or at home being the only parent your kids have? Military moms are the cream of the crop. They have to be; often they are the only parent around.

My girlfriends who were moms taught me the benefits of raising kids without dad around. They joked that it was the perfect opportunity to instill core family values like, “Mommy is always right!” And, if anything goes wrong, “it’s Daddy’s fault!”

My girlfriends also loved to instill this rule with the kids: “When Daddy gets home, be sure to go to him with all your homework, dirty diapers, and boo-boos. He wants to make up for all he missed!”

Sometimes, though, a mom needs reinforcements when her husband is deployed.

One day Michelle called to ask Jon to stop by after work while still in uniform. I thought it was a bit odd, but told her we would be over as soon as Jon came home.

We walked over to Michelle’s garage and saw David, who was two at the time, holding a spray bottle of cleaner.

Michelle saw Jon and exclaimed, “Thank God, you’re here! David has had that bottle all day and I can’t get it away from him. If I go near him, he sprays me!”

We asked her to demonstrate. Sure enough, David sprayed his mother with cleanser. I stifled a laugh, but Jon was puzzled.

Michelle was convinced that David would not obey her. She believed children respond better to a man’s voice.

I set out to debunk her theory. I looked Dave straight in the eye and said, “David, give me that bottle!”

He looked at me, laughed, and sprayed me in the face.

Michelle begged Jon to do something. Now, you have to understand that my husband is about as good with kids as Arnold was on his first day in “Kindergarten Cop.”

Seeing this poor mother at her wit’s end, though, he decided to help out.

“Jon, David will think you are Kevin,” Michelle explained. “Just keep your cover on and tell him to give you the bottle.”

When Jon approached him, David took aim.

Jon looked down at him and calmly said, “No.”

David instantly dropped the bottle and began to wail. Michelle rushed to David and began to coddle him.

I guess Michelle was right. Her son needed a strong male role model.

LET’S MAKE BABIES

Now let’s discuss the phenomenon of how military wives get pregnant. Perhaps you’re thinking I’m going to give you a lesson in the birds and the bees. That’s not what I’m talking about.

Remember Ball Babies?

Well, there are also pre-deployment babies, reunion babies, and “Okinawa surprises.” That’s what you come back with after being stationed over there for three years.

It seemed that I was constantly being warned to watch out for certain events or places that resulted in pregnancy—as if coitus had nothing to do with it.

Many of the wives I met on base associated their pregnancies with specific events. I was even told the B-billet was tied to pregnancies.

After your Grunt does four years in the “fleet” (a deployable billet), he goes to a non-deployable billet for four years—a “B-billet.” (In this case, the “B” stands for “bullshit.”)

Many veteran wives encouraged me to get my husband stationed in Hawaii or to do recruiting in my hometown so I could be somewhere comfortable when I had my children.

Look at the ages of the children in a Grunt’s family. Many of them had two kids within a four-year time period. Then there’s a four-year gap and more children.

I can tell you the majority of wives I knew during that first deployable cycle started their families during the B-billets.

Many wives will plan their pregnancies around their husbands’ deployment. Some want to be six months pregnant when he returns so he can be there for the birth. Not as many wives plan on having a baby while hubby is deployed, but it does happen.

Beenie had her first child this way and said it was not so bad. She said it was better to take care of the new baby alone, and then to incorporate her husband into the routine when he returned.

Everyone in the military makes “family plans” a little differently—planning around billets, deployments, duty stations, and let’s face it, Balls.

PLAY GROUPS

Mommy/child play groups are very common on base. We had a very active one in the community playground in our neighborhood. These groups encourage moms to build up a real sense of community with the other moms on base.

These moms also look out for each other’s kids, and would lend a helping hand whenever someone needed a last minute sitter.

I also heard my neighborhood play group made some pretty good margaritas.

ADVENTURES IN BABYSITTING

During my first two years as a military wife, I did a lot of volunteer work for the Key Volunteer Network, as well as for the battalion.

I also did a lot of babysitting since I had a trampoline, endless supplies of ice cream, kid’s movies, and toys.

There were always children at the house. Often Michelle and I would be with the kids on my trampoline or in her baby pool when moms and their kids would join us. Sometimes they would just drop them off while they ran an errand.

One afternoon Michelle was entertaining the neighborhood children in her blow-up pool. I suggested they come over to jump on the trampoline and have popsicles.

I remember thinking that David, who was just two, was getting so strong and sturdy for his size. He was jumping up and down on the trampoline as I watched with admiration. After a few minutes, I saw liquid flying through the air. I walked over and saw the liquid was all over the trampoline.

“Who has chocolate milk?” I asked Michelle. “They should not drink and jump. Someone will get sick.”

She shot me a puzzled look. “No one has chocolate milk,” she replied.

Then I saw the liquid leaking from David’s swim diaper. While it wasn’t chocolate milk, it certainly was a treat. With every leap and bounce, the liquid flew higher and higher into the air.

I think David knew all about this “chocolate milk” treat streaking down his legs, but he was enjoying this session on the trampoline too much.

We finally got him off the trampoline, stripped him bare (he thoroughly enjoyed this as well) and proceeded to spray David down with the garden hose.

(Yes, I sprayed the trampoline down as well.)

Whenever Michelle and Kevin had a date night, they’d leave David and Jacob with me. Since Jon was deployed some of those times, it was just me and the boys. They were such gentlemen.

Jacob would kick my butt at Nintendo. I had taught him how to play Mario Brothers, but he killed Kumba within half an hour. Was there anything this kid could not master?

For some reason whenever I took care of David, his body fluids would reject my authority.

I remember one night Jacob was happily playing Nintendo when David began to look a little pale. “My tummy hurts,” he told me.

David had been born with a stomach problem, so it was not unusual for him to get an upset tummy.

I didn’t think anything of it until he looked at me and barfed strawberry yogurt all over my bare legs. I could not move. My legs and feet were covered with warm strawberry yogurt vomit. I almost puked myself.

As I stood there in shock, he barfed again.

Jacob started yelling, “Eeeeeeeww, it stinks! I’m going to puke! Eeeeeww, Miss Mollie, your dog is eating it!”

By this time I am gagging while grabbing David for a run to the bathroom.

I put him down in front of the toilet. “Puke in the bowl,” I commanded.

I was reaching for a wet washcloth to put on the back of his neck when I realized he was thoroughly covered with puke, so I picked him up and we both climbed into the tub.

I got the nozzle down and started spraying us as I peeled off our clothes.

That’s when I began to panic: I was half-naked in the bathtub with a half-naked three-year-old!

Freaking out that I would be arrested for child abuse, I put David on the floor with a washcloth and a blanket.

Even though we had tracked puke through the house, the dogs had taken care of most of it. Still, the house stunk to high heaven. Let me put it this way: no one will be making this lovely scent into a candle fragrance anytime soon.

Anyway, I got myself some clean shorts and a T-shirt, then made David a nest of blankets on the floor and gave him an all-fruit popsicle. I called Michelle, regretfully asking her to end their date early. As it turns out, David had the flu. In fact, the whole family ended up getting sick. I didn’t, thank God.

But to this day I can’t eat strawberry yogurt.

GROCERY SHOPPING

I developed this love/hate relationship with the commissary. You really can find the best deals there—if you can handle the experience.

I will never forget one night my husband and I went off base to buy a frozen pizza. That’s when we discovered that pizza costs $4.00 more off base. The point is that when you’re young and in the military, every dollar matters.

There are some definite rules to follow if you shop at the commissary.

One of the most important is to avoid the commissary on paydays. In fact, I had the day before payday marked on my calendar. It wasn’t to prepare for payday, but to remind myself to go to the commissary before the payday insanity hit.

Payday at the commissary is like a slow death. Think the lines at the post office are bad? Well, it’s like a day at Disneyland compared to the commissary on payday.

Paydays mean every mom is there with all of her children and two carts overflowing with her purchases. She is usually screaming in an effort to keep control of the children that dangle off her cart like spiders. Try to escape her, but she’ll be down the next aisle. She’s red-faced, miserable, and trying to pick out cereal as her children sneak candy bars into the basket.

I want to help her. I do, but I am repulsed by the high-pitched screams coming from her offspring, so I slink away.

I honestly have pulled into the commissary on payday and just as quickly driven away. I would rather eat soup for two days than deal with the one-hour line at checkout.