AYFKM?

You are invited!!!

What: Mel’s Pity Party
Who: Anyone who can relate
Who NOT: Anyone who tells me “I chose this life” or any variation thereof or anyone who tells me “Be patient” or “Hang in there, kiddo” or any other similar bullcrap
Where: Right here
When: Right now
What to bring? A huge freakin’ bottle of wine and a good, strong shoulder.

First of all, I’ll let you mull the title over for a second, and maybe it will come to you by the time you’re done reading this blog.

Allow me to preface this one by reminding everyone under the sun that I love Hubby to the ends of the earth and will do anything and go anywhere for him.

But sometimes, on some days, I see how easy it would be for a military marriage to fall apart. I see how if you didn’t love each other as much as Hubby and I love each other, I see how one might just throw in the towel.

Because sometimes it really sucks.
And I am one of the lucky ones. My hubby and I sleep under the same roof, he’s never been overseas, and much of the time his job is just fine and allows us a fairly comfortable family life.

But right now, as I sit here alone on Thanksgiving weekend, trying to think of anything but my whole family getting together in Hometown without me to celebrate not only Thanksgiving but also Big Brother’s birthday, I’m not really very pleased. Ask Hubby, who was lucky enough to run home for lunch today and was both greeted and farewelled with what probably wasn’t my best attempt at covering up how pissed off I am.

What’s going on, you wonder? Well here in Smalltown there is a huge exercise going on where thousands of troops come in to train. Hubby is part of the Training Centre that prepares, plans, and oversees all of this so his longer hours and unpredictable schedule just became even longer and more unpredictable. He will work 7 days a week for the next 4 weeks, a minimum of 7am-7pm shifts. The only time he will see Monkey is from 5:45am-6:45 am (this is one of those times we are actually glad Monkey wakes up so early) and the only time he will see me is from whenever he comes home until about 9:30 when I go to bed because I’m so friggen’ drained from doing it alone all day.
As much as I am grateful to at least see him every day (even if it’s only for an hour or two), the unpredictability drives me IN-FRIGGEN-SANE because I can’t count on him for anything because he never knows whether he’ll actually be home or not. He says, “I’ll be home by 7:30”, to which I reply, “Okay, so what time can I actually expect you?” and when he comes in at 9 I’m equally as annoyed but not actually surprised.

What’s most frustrating is that the non-military spouse’s life has to STOP when these big things happen. Monkey is not great with a babysitter (yes I know he will have to get used to that at some point but so help me if you mention that to me now…) therefore leaving him with someone else while he’s also getting used to Daddy hardly being home would not go over well. This means I have to leave work promptly to pick him up from daycare, I have to cancel any and all evening business meetings, I have to do all the cooking, all the cleaning, all the picking up of dog food because someone *ahem* forgot to tell me there wasn’t even a crumb left in the dog food bag. I have to be flexible and giving and give up things that are important to me because Hubby’s job comes first 1 million per cent of the time.

Well, military: when do I COME FIRST?!

And I’m not even going to pretend that this is just about me. This is about every spouse I know. This is about us picking up and moving across the effing country because we were posted. We leave our friends, our families, our jobs, everything. We are told one thing about the new position when really it couldn’t be more different (Whoever said Smalltown was a Monday to Friday 9-5 job that didn’t involved any extras or travel should be fired immediately, and then given a horrible, horrible case of back acne). We get here, to Smalltown, where we don’t know a soul, then our husbands are sent here, there and everywhere. We finally get a good job, a GREAT job, but then have to miss all the important extras because somehow they always coincide with the military’s busy times and as we already established, that comes first 1 million per cent of the time.

I can’t even muster up the good humour to be sarcastic (which I’m usually so good at) because I’m just that annoyed.

I think if this didn’t happen to be Thanksgiving it wouldn’t be quite so bad.

Is this the worst party you’ve ever been invited to, or what?!

I don’t even think I have a POINT to this blog which annoys me further. But I think sometimes when you have a huge, annoying problem with absolutely no chance of finding a solution, the only thing that helps even a tiny bit is complaining.

I’m not sure I feel much better at the moment….maybe your stories of commiseration will do the trick?? Please share!!

So thanks for coming to my Pity Party.
But couldn’t you have found a bigger bottle of wine?

Cheers
Mel

1 Comment

  • Cheer up Buttercup! Fully expecting a long distance slap for that one 🙂

    I can share a couple of stories to commiserate! While life as an army wife, as well as just life in general, has equipped me with many pity party stories I will just share two that relate to this time of year!

    There was the Thanksgiving several years ago when hubby was deployed and me being the only one with no family in area, I had to work the entire Thanksgiving weekend! Not so bad you think….but it entailed 7 shifts with my most difficult and least liked client (you will remember my many rants about the crazy nun) over a 4 day period! By the time I crawled home from work on Thanksgiving I was so tired that Thanksgiving dinner consisted of a can of tuna, eaten out of the can, and shared with the dog and cat for company!

    Or there is this year. While I am fortunate enough to have hubby home for the holiday, it is short-lived. He was gone half of September and will be gone half of Oct. This leaves me at home with a very cranky daddy's girl who is suffering from something that is causing her to wake up screaming in the night, pretty much every night! Oh and there is the morning, noon, and night morning sickness! Ever tried throwing up with a toddler in your lap who is also trying to lean over the toilet and mimic what you are doing? Looks funny but it's not so fun in the moment!

    You're not alone! Have a big glass of wine, then refill it and have one for me!

    – Kaitlin

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