Roller Coaster

I don't think I like being an Army Mom.

I don't like the news. No, I hate the news. Every geo-political news story seems scary to me.  As I lay in bed at night, my horrid mind replays all the bad things happening in the world, and my over-active imagination sees my son heading to the battle front in one of a half dozen places around the world. I have to keep reminding myself that he is "safely" still at Basic Training.  And even when he is done with training, he is coming home to serve in a Reserve Unit.

Ha! "Safe" is a relative term. I know he is physically safe. No harm will come to him, unless he pulls a muscle, or something. Still, I worry.

I joined a couple of Facebook support groups for the families of soldiers doing basic training at Ft. Sill.  Some of the support is great!  Some of the "support" actually adds to my stress levels.

For instance, soldiers are allowed only a few, specific items to be shipped to them from their families. Anything on the "contraband" list will result in punishment (sit ups or push ups) for the soldier, and possibly for his/her entire platoon.  I read of one soldier that got a bag of candy. His entire platoon had to do push ups while he sat at a table in the middle of the room and ate the entire bag of candy in one sitting.  If someone's parent gets a little too eager and tags or posts to the pictures on the battalion Facebook wall?  Yeah, sit ups for EVERYBODY!  Sometimes, it is just the soldier that gets singled out. Like, say your family sends you a postcard instead of a letter? The Drill Sergeant is going to read that out loud to the entire platoon for you.  How thoughtful. Some parents have a wicked sense of humor and think sending "Monkey Butt" powder or "Boogie Wipes" to their soldier is a hoot!  Maybe their soldier has a great sense of humor, but what if the Drill Sergeant is in a bad mood for some reason?  Sit ups galore, and they just doomed their soldier to be nicknamed "Monkey Butt" or "Booger" for the duration of basic.

Will is supposed to be "phasing up" from Red Phase to White Phase, soon.  That has less to do with what they are learning and more to do with the level of restrictions placed on them.  During the Red Phase, the soldiers in training have NO privileges.  No phone calls, in particular.  Red Phase generally lasts 3 weeks, but can last much longer if the platoon won't settle down and be disciplined.  When they move to White Phase, they will be allowed their phones on Sundays to make short calls home.  Oh, I can't wait!  But I also know (from the support groups) that often times that phone privilege is lost for the entire platoon due to the bad behavior of ONE soldier.  If any one idiot decides to mouth off to the Drill Sergeant, I won't get to hear from my son.  So, now I am praying for an entire platoon of soldiers to keep their noses clean, just so I can hear my son's voice!

We already know we missed out on a phone call back on Independence Day because somebody cussed in formation and wouldn't fess up about it to the Drill Sergeant.

I am hearing that certain platoons are severely struggling with behavior issues.  I haven't heard of problems with Will's platoon, so I'm keeping my fingers crossed that he's gotten lucky and been placed in a more mature group!  I am hoping that most of what I'm hearing about problem platoons are actually Split Training platoons.  Split Training means 17 year old soldiers who are doing basic training during the summer before their senior year of high school, then the AIT (advanced individual training) or job training next summer after they graduate.  The Army will run entire groups of kids as Split Training platoons in the summer time. A whole platoon of 17 year olds.  Shudder!  A normal platoon will be varied in age from the almost 18 year olds that barely graduated from high school to the "gramps" of the platoon at 35, the maximum age you can enlist in the Army.  That wide of a range hopefully helps elevate the maturity level, right?

And then there's the tearful and panicked mother on the support group who reports that her SIT (soldier in training) missed passing the riffle qualifications by one shot, and is being given the choice of being "recycled" or go home!  "Recycled" means starting basic training over.  She is panicked because she can't contact her to talk it out and can only hope she makes the right choice.

Great.  Something else to worry about!  Bill says not to worry, Will is gonna pass his qualifications.  I believe that.  I have confidence in my son and his abilities.  I just have to tell my imagination to shut up!  At least I don't have to worry about his running qualification times!  He told me in a recent letter that he ran a 6:36 mile!  (I struggle with a 10 minute mile, shhh!)

I have started stalking the mailman.  I have discovered that he normally delivers our mail at about 10 am.  So, when he didn't show up and didn't show up... and it was 4 pm and still no mail... I was about to get on the phone to the post office to find out JUST WHAT IS GOING ON ANYWAYS... when he showed up at 4:05......  And then there was no letter.  What a let down!  But, at least my letter to Will got picked up!  I was ready to snatch it out of the box and drive it down to the post office myself to make sure it made today's post!

Oh. One more thing.  Apparently today someone started a rumor that there was an active shooter running around on the base.

Just a rumor people.  Go about your business.  There is nothing to see here!

AURGH!!!

I am fine with the fact that it was only a rumor.  Great.  Glad to hear it.

But, did you realize that I had not once connected other base shootings to a potential for a threat to my own son until just this very minute?!  Thanks, you moron!  Whomever you are starting pernicious rumors!  I was happily ignorant until now.  Sheesh.  Now my imagination is gonna have a field day with that one tonight as I lay in bed trying to go to sleep without watering my pillow.

Ah. Being an Army Mom is mentally hard.

BUT I FEEL SO VERY PROUD OF HIM!!!  I want to shout it from the roof tops!  I want to tell every stranger I meet, "Hello. Nice to meet you.  Did you know my son is in the Army?  Why, yes, he is brave and wonderful and amazing and all of those other truly awesomely nice things! He's my hero and I just wanted you to know about him, so he can be your hero, too!"

A little over the top?

That's the roller coaster I'm on right now, folks!  When is this ride over? ;)