Sunday Scribblings

30 04 2006

Thanks to a tip from my dear hubby, I’ve recently discovered Sunday Scribblings– they provide the weekly topic, and the rest of us ‘scribble’ something about it. Hopefully this will help to add some variety to what I post about- I can only write about baby poop so much, and you can read about it even less, I’m sure.

So this is my first try; the topic is “Why I live where I live”

So many seemingly random events have the power to lead you to the last place you ever thought you’d be. That last place, for me, was the wife of a military man, “following” him all over the world. I say that it’s the last place I thought I’d be because I grew up an “army brat” (actually, if you want to get technical about it, I was a “coast guard brat”, but nobody ever says that) and HATED IT with a passion, even before I knew what passion was.

Tall stack!I hated the always present moving boxes; I hated being the clichéd new kid at school; I hated FINALLY overcoming my shyness and making new friends, just to have them ripped away with promises of letters and keeping in touch that would never be kept.

I hated the dirty white walls of military housing; I hated how the carpets of said military housing always reeked of cat pee, a stench no bald guy or scrubbing bubble was strong enough to get rid of, no matter how many thousand times my mom cleaned the carpet; I hated those stupid little yellow stickers that the movers would stick on every single thing we owned that couldn’t fit in a box. I’m pretty sure some of those stickers are STILL on some of our stuff, even after 20 years.

I hated the slugs that appeared out of nowhere in Ilwaco, Washington. I hated them, and I feared them (so much so that I would make my mom carry me out to the bus for school. Hey, I was only in kindergarten, give me a break!). I hated the kids at my high school in Pennsylvania. All 620 of them. Well, for the first year, that is. That’s how long it took me to make friends with any of them. High school is rough, as we all know- it’s rougher still when you don’t know a single person, not even the weird kids who (gasp!) bring their lunch and sit at their own, outcasts-only lunch table. You know it’s bad when even they don’t want you!

Is it clear yet, my hatred of the life of a military child?

And yet I went ahead and married a guy in the army. Love can make you do the craziest things, it’s true. If I hadn’t had to endure those awful high school years I would never have met my best friends, one of whom would turn out to be my husband years down the road.

Just married!Exactly one year and 11 months ago, I joined my then boyfriend where he was stationed in Belgium, and 2 months later we were married in Denmark. From there, it was on to Maryland for a year, and just as soon as we’d gotten there, it was time to move again.  We’ve now lived in Virginia for 2 months. And that is why I live where I live– because the army said so.

We live in an apartment that is smaller than our last duplex, but somehow it feels bigger. We’re very at home here, enjoying our life as a new family. We’re raising our son here (for the next three years, at least), who is like this new, amazing little person every day.

And now here I am bringing him up in the very same military lifestyle that I so despised. And in twenty years, he’ll be talking about how he hated being an army brat. Ah, the circle of life.



3 responses

30 04 2006

Such vivid descriptions. I recognize some of the feelings there, especially being the ‘weird new kid’ no one wants. My aunt married a military man too, and her letters to the family date from all over the place – she’s finally settled somewhere now. Looking forward to reading more!

–Shuku, Sunday Scribblings

30 04 2006

I am admiring your boxes. Last time I moved it was not NEARLY as organized. Then again, I suppose a lifetime of moving will teach you how to pack well. I also like what you said about how love makes you do the craziest things…you’re right. Life unravels in mysterious ways.

Your post gave insight to the lives of my army brat friends. They all say the same thing–but you allowed a view inside of it. Nice writing and welcome to Sunday Scribblings. 🙂

30 04 2006
Paris Parfait

Interesting description of how you hated all the moving—–but obviously you’ve gained wonderful experiences and a husband, partly because of all the moving around. Sounds like you’ve learned to “bloom where you’re planted,” no matter how many times you get uprooted!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: