Confessions of a Military Wife (21 page)

Sorry for the fuzzy picture, but I love this one. Jon and I enjoying a rare trip to Del Mar Beach. Camp Pendleton the summer before he deployed. We are newlyweds here. We would not spend a summer together for another 3 years.

Grandma Ruby and I at Christmas 2003 between Jon’s deployments.

Top: This is the kind of goofy picture I would mail to Jon to make him laugh while he was deployed. Tipple and I are having a little dress up mother–daughter time. No wonder this cat hates us.

Grace and I, two Aries girls.

Top: My favorite photo of my neighbors, David and Jacob. Michelle had them in desert cammies for a photo shoot when daddy was deployed. Above: The infamous go-cart, with the more infamous JJ the yard boy.

Above: My KVC and great friend Karen took this photo of Jon and I when we first saw each other after his second deployment.

Inset: Imagine my shock when I developed this role of film mailed to me by Jon from Iraq. Jon and all his 2/1 buddies had grown the “moleste-ache.” Although resepected by the local Iraqis, women back in America hid their children and did a check online for registered sex offenders.

Lloyd and Jon in Kuwait in the staging area just before the war began. Beenie and I were going through birth coaching class when this role of film reached us. Our men were about to go to war! This picture made us both very emotional. And Llyod had to ruin this perfect photo by growing a molest-ache!

Jon and I at the birthday ball. I was so gassy I could not hold it in. My girdle was too tight, and I am trying to cover my HUGE “gas baby” with my hands. I could not wait to go home, strip, and let out a big toot of relief!

I have been told that on stage I am quite animated. I never fully “get it” until photos are developed. Then I invariably turn to Jon and say, “I looked like that!?” Here I am in Beaufort, South Carolina, performing “Mollie Gross, Military Wife Comedy.”

But, that was just the beginning of my sword problems.

Before we cut the cake, I gave a speech to our guests. I spoke about our love for our birth families as well as our love for the military family with us that day. And I talked about the deployment we were facing.

Let’s just say this. I have a degree in speech. By the time I was done, we were all crying. The mood became intense and powerful, so in an effort to lighten the mood, I yelled, “Let’s just eat some cake!”

Jon used his military issue sword to cut the cake. He gently fed me a tiny bite and I did the same in return. As I was nibbling on the cake, I saw Jon starting to scheme.

NOT GOOD.

He was looking at his sword, which is now covered with chocolate icing. (Yes, I had chocolate frosting on my wedding cake!) I could see him thinking, “Gee, what do I do about this?”

To my shock, he opened his mouth, stuck the sword in, and closed his lips over it like you would with a spoon dipped in cake batter. Then he pulls the sword right out between his lips.

Every woman in the room gasped. I was mortified. “Oh, my God!” I yelled. “What are you doing? Open your mouth! Let me see your tongue. Did you cut yourself? Are you insane? I may need that later!”

Between my swollen butt and my husband nearly cutting his tongue off, I had had enough of swords that day.

Still, the whole affair was really lovely. It was not something I thought I had wanted, but I’m happy we did it.

Before Jon left, I gave him two gifts.

The first was a handmade patchwork quilt I had worked on for months. I thought he could use it on his bunk on ship.

The second was a tiny leather album with photos of us. At the back of this family album, I stashed some sexy boudoir photos of myself. He was very happy, and especially pleased with his “bonus” gift.

I had heard stories from “veteran” wives about rampant amounts of porn on deployment. This didn’t sit well with me. My husband was not the type of man who liked to look at those magazines. (We didn’t even keep that garbage in our house.) However, I knew seven months would be a long time to go without “marital relations.” I was surprised to learn that some of these “veteran” wives didn’t care about the use of pornography and even encouraged their husbands to look at it.

I decided to take matters into my own hands. I spoke with the photographer who took pictures at our second wedding.

She offered me a “boudoir” photo session. These are “tasteful” nude or partially nude photos taken in a studio. I figured since my nipples had to be airbrushed out of several of our wedding photos, why not let them have their moment in the light?!

The photos turned out beautiful and were very classy.

WORD TO THE WISE: If you do boudoir photos for your man, be sure to give him the photos before he leaves. Do not mail them. Remember, packages can be searched and confiscated. Unless you want to be a “pin-up” for the entire battalion, hide them in a photo album you give him before he leaves.

It’s also a good idea to keep track of any copies you have at home. I had an eight-by-ten of myself standing in front of the American flag. I was wearing a red bra and panties along with Jon’s dress blues cover.

My Marine mother, Mary, stopped by one day with her fifteen-year-old son, JJ. I was so pleased with the photo that I decided to show it to her. As I flipped through the photos, I had her stand close to me so JJ would not see it. But I couldn’t find it. I stared at this cardboard backing muttering that I had just seen it the day before.

Then I looked up to see her son’s eyes were bulging out of his head. I flipped the cardboard over and realized the photo had been facing him the entire time.

I guess JJ got a gift as well.

One day my husband told me he had a gift for me, too. (No, not a baby.)

Jon explained that he had thought of me when he saw this and knew that I would need it while he was gone. This way, he continued, he could still be with me even when he was gone.

I was giddy with excitement! I knew it was going to be good!

Jon went into the kitchen—and brought out this bizarre contraption that can only be described as “the claw.”

I thought it was a joke, but my husband doesn’t know how to be funny. He has a good sense of what is funny, but no talent when it comes to delivering the punch line.