Confessions of a Military Wife (19 page)

Jon started pleading. “Please, Mollie, don’t buy a turtle while I am deployed. They look cute now, but they get really big.”

I pretended to cry. “But this one loves me! He is the size of a silver dollar. He runs up to me every time I walk by his cage!”

Beenie is in the background screaming, “You have to buy him, and get another one so he’s not lonely.”

Then Beenie gets on the line, “Hi, Jon. How is the desert? Yes, well, my mother had a pet turtle when she was a girl. They are quite fascinating. It got so big she would ride it to school! Mollie is so tiny, I bet she could ride a turtle all over Del Mar housing!”

We started giggling and screaming just as the phone cut out. Suddenly it was not so funny. It occurred to me that Jon would now be sitting in Iraq thinking he was coming home to a circus.

Poor Jon. He probably didn’t know we were kidding. I felt horrible that I had created a distraction at a time when he needed to stay focused.

Thank God he called back right away. I assured him I learned my lesson with the “go-cart incident” and promised I would not buy a big item without first consulting him.

He told me he loved Beenie, but that she was an instigator. He made me promise not to buy a turtle—not even a cute one in Chinatown. Especially not a cute one in Chinatown! I promised.

When Jon came home, he brought me a tiny hand-carved wooden turtle from the Seychelles Islands. Of course, I named it Frere Jacques.

By the second deployment, though, I had a new obsession: miniature horses.

One night while watching TV in bed, Jon called my attention to a show featuring a tiny horse (about the size of a lab) wearing shoes and serving as a guide for a blind woman.

I decided then and there that I had to have one. When I told Beenie about it, she decided she had to have one as well.

We searched online every chance we got. We printed out pictures of ones offered for sale and put them on our fridges.

The one I really wanted was a tiny black and white miniature I named Pygmalion. I talked about him non-stop—how I would buy him shoes and train him to help the blind. Beenie thought this was a riot.

Jon, though, had had enough. He made me promise not to discuss miniature ponies for six years. If I did, he would consider getting me one if we ever lived on a farm.

I readily agreed. He was going on deployment anyway, so I knew I could talk about it all I wanted; I would just have to wait until after he left. He would never know.

My birthday arrived after Jon deployed. Natalie, who knew how much I loved Pygmalion, had his photo scanned and put on my birthday cake. It was the best surprise.

The wife of Jon’s CO asked me to explain the story behind the pony on the cake. When I explained, she thought it was a hoot.

When her husband called from Iraq, she told him about the birthday party. Then she told him all about the pony on the cake and the fact Jon wouldn’t let me have a pony. Unfortunately, the conversation got a bit mixed up.

“Karen, I am staying out of this. If a wife got a pony for her birthday and it is going to upset her husband, I am staying out of it,” he said. “I need my men to stay focused right now.”

Then the phone cut out.

She called to warn me that her husband was going to say something to Jon about my pony.

I acted quickly. I was sure Jon thought I had a tiny pony in the house—shoes and all. I e-mailed him a picture of the cake telling him, “Look, the ladies got me my pony!”

I was hoping he would see the cake and put two and two together.

Jon called to ask about my birthday party. Thankfully, the CO had not said anything to him.

Chapter Five

PRE-DEPLOYMENT

In the military, you sometimes get that call that your husband is going on an unscheduled six- or seven-month deployment, which means you have no time to prepare.

Since my husband was in the infantry, we knew that war or no war, he would leave for two six-month deployments in a four-year block.

The military schedules so much intensive training up to that point that you feel as though he’s already been deployed since he is gone so much.

It feels like a roller-coaster ride. He’s home one week and gone for two weeks. These “work ups” go on for six months. After that, the military gives you a little leave.

This is the only time you know for certain that no one will have to stand duty or go on a weekend hump. It’s a time when you’re finally free to go about your business and relax.

HA! HA! How can you relax knowing your husband will be gone for seven months? What an oxymoron!

Not only that, but many families have the added level of stress of the extended family’s desire to say, “Goodbye” to the service man before he deploys.

This is totally understandable. However, a military family needs to be preparing its own family, including children, emotionally as well as physically for the absence. Instead, military families often end up taking a huge family vacation or hosting a huge family reunion.

Who does all the planning, partying, and packing? That’s right, the military wife. What joy! All you want to do is have some quiet time with dad and the kids and maybe fit in a romantic date or two.

Then the doorbell rings and there stand the in-laws, grandma, and the extended family. They’re anxious to visit, while you end up playing hostess instead of spending time alone with your sweetheart.

The other problem is you end up feeling guilty for resenting them and selfish for feeling that way. You know what? You’re normal. Your feelings are justified.

I couldn’t understand how some extended family could go for months, or even years, without visiting. But the second the service person is scheduled for deployment, they schedule a visit during the week before he leaves.

It’s important to keep in mind you are the matriarch of the house. And, as such, you must set the boundaries.

The extended family is important, so you should make time for them—but not the week before he leaves. I would go as far as avoiding visits from extended family during the pre-deployment leave.

Everyone needs to recognize that your family’s day-to-day life is about to change. The extended family should be alerted to this fact. It’s up to you and your husband to gently and mutually set boundaries for pre-deployment calls and visits from outsiders.

If you can’t manage this, I can promise that one of you (the wife) will be blamed for “keeping him away from the family.”

Pre-deployment leave is meant for the service member. Don’t burden him with guilt by forcing visits with family and friends as well as making time for you.

Make it easy on everyone by setting boundaries and sticking to them. This is the time for last minute trips to the orthodontist or to get the car’s tires changed, as well as to go on family outings without outside interruptions and distractions.

Do those errands that are easier to do when hubby is home. If you do not take the time for them during pre-deployment leave, you will be upset you have to do it when he is gone.

My advice is simple. Plan a family gathering a few months before the deployment so everyone gets their time.

SECOND MARRIAGE

For our pre-deployment leave, Jon and I had a little matter to address before he went off to war. We needed to get married. I know, you’re thinking we eloped.

Yes, we did, and so we didn’t have a traditional church wedding. And some people had made me feel guilty about eloping with Jon.

It’s quite common for military families to elope, then have a formal wedding. As I got to know other military wives, I realized I had nothing to be ashamed of. If other people had a problem with our decision to elope, then it was their problem.

While Jon and I had considered ourselves husband and wife from the second we said “I do,” we faced a new dilemma. Jon had been raised Catholic, but I had been raised Methodist. Being married in the Catholic Church was important to Jon and his family.

Both of us are Christians and our faith is very important to us both. We consider spirituality a huge part of our relationship. Our faith holds us together.

Still, I realized that being married in a church was important to Jon and his family. And that’s why we planned to have a church wedding before he deployed.

Even though we were already married, the Catholic Church required us to participate in premarital counseling.

My girlfriend Erin, who was converting to Catholicism, had already gone through the counseling program in preparation for her marriage to Mike. She called to warn me about an agreement the priest had asked her to sign.

Apparently, the paper spelled out various martial agreements. Erin said she didn’t read through them thoroughly—just quickly went down the list and initialed each one.

When she went back later and read them, Erin freaked. She said some of the agreements were harmless, like saying she would accept children graciously from God and would raise them Catholic. But another stated she would “give herself to her husband physically in marital relations whenever he desired!”

She could not believe what she had signed.

Now her husband was carrying the agreement around in his pocket so he could torment her with the fact that she had agreed to be submissive sexually! Every chance he got, he teased her mercilessly.

It was hysterical, but I knew I would not sign anything like that.

When we got to the classes, I think my priest quickly realized he better not ask me to sign that statement. He probably figured it was pointless since Jon and I were already married.

Regardless, I carefully read over the paperwork before signing it. Thankfully, that statement had been omitted.

We finished up counseling and decided to marry at the beautiful Ranch House Chapel on Camp Pendleton.

After nine months of living as husband and wife, we got married again, but this time we did it with class and sophistication. The priest was sober. Nor was there a line of folks in matching sweat suits waiting in line to get married.

I will admit it felt silly to be going through this ceremony since everyone knew we were already married. Still, it was great to have my new military family watch as Jon and I affirmed our love for each other.

I don’t remember the date of our second wedding because Jon and I prefer to celebrate our “real” wedding (the elopement). Still, our church wedding was magical and we have the pictures to prove it.

All of Jon’s friends from training and his battalion were dressed in full uniform. All of my wonderful new military girlfriends joined us as well. I had my two matrons of honor—my very best girlfriends, Erin and Beenie—who had a huge responsibility. They were supposed to be on nipple watch. But they both failed, miserably.

PEEK-A-BOO

Before Jon and I moved to California, Erin and I had gone shopping for a wedding gown at a store near her hometown in South Carolina.

I wanted the dress so my mother-in-law would know we had every intention of getting married in the church when the military gave us time to do so. It was my way of reassuring her.

Anyway, I fell in love with this strapless dress. I knew I looked adorable in it—like an upside down teacup. And it was ivory because … Well … I obviously could not wear white.

But there was another matter to consider. I am five feet tall and weigh about 110 pounds, and thirty pounds of that belongs to my boobs. And yes, they are real. My mom believes they came from the hormones in milk. I certainly didn’t get them from her.

The problem is they make me top heavy. They also present a problem when I’m going down stairs. Picture a Slinky.

Needless to say, when your legs are as long as your boobs stick out, you’re facing a challenge to find clothes that fit.

Anyway, this dress was a perfect style for me, but it was eight sizes too big. I decided to try it on just to see if it would look good with my skin tone. Erin was on the other side of the store looking at shoes or veils or something when I saw my reflection in the mirror.

I started screaming and running through the store looking for her. I have to admit I caused quite a commotion.

Erin remembers it happening in slow motion, complete with the theme from “Chariots of Fire” playing in the background.

As I was running toward her, I stepped on the three yards of material that was too long. It snapped me forward like the metal on a mousetrap. My head flipped forward. With my momentum propelling me forward and my foot on the fabric, I pulled the dress down in front. Did I mention it was strapless?

I fell flat on my face and then rolled over on my back. My bosoms were released, exposing my nipples. As I lay on the ground topless, I told Erin, “This is the one. Doesn’t it look great?”

I had no idea my “girls” were playing Peek-A-Boo.

You’d think that my embarrassment would have been tempered by the fact that there were only women shoppers in the store. But some hussy had brought her boyfriend–fiancé with her, and he had witnessed the entire scene.

According to Erin, this guy just stared at my milk white breasts while his girlfriend pitched a fit. I may have caused their break-up.

I ordered the dress in the correct size, but I think my nips remembered that incident. After that, it seems that every time I put the dress on, my boobies tried to poke out and say “good day!”

I realized this in the fitting room and again at my house while I was posing for photos with Erin and Beenie before the wedding. It was at this point that I asked them to watch my “girls” and keep them in their place.

My photographer, who did an amazing job of capturing that day, assured me she could touch up anything out of place in a photo. I took comfort in knowing that for a small fee she could eliminate pimples, make sure eyes were open, and even move someone around.

Once I saw the initial set of photos, I was overwhelmed by the loveliness she had captured. I called the photographer to order a few photos and asked, “You said it was $20 to remove pimples, but I need a quote on the cost to remove nipples.”