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? ;)
Missing Summers Past
Do I have a bunch of other things I should be doing? Of course. If I wanted to do them, though, don't you think I would have started on them by now? Sheesh. Summer is my time to procrastinate horribly on all things not lazy and summery.
Now that we have that out of the way, I have to tell you why this is the hardest summer, ever!
No, really.
Summers had been my time to play with my kids. We hung out at the pool, or the lake, or the water park (notice the water related theme?), we watched movies, or we wandered around town looking for fun stuff to do. We'd flood the backyard and paddle around in it, then watch the dragonflies dance across the makeshift pond. When they were little, they'd have sleep outs in the tree house up in the cherry tree. Later, the backyard campouts moved down to a tent in the yard when they got too big for the tree house. Their friends came over and we had late night bonfires, roasting hot dogs and s'mores while lazily listening to the crickets and the train whistle in the distance while counting stars. Sweet summertime teen romances flared up only to die down with the start of a new school year.
My summer was full of my kids.
Not so much, anymore.
Helena works full time. Her boyfriend has relocated to Oregon, so when she's not at work, she's Skyping him. That is how it should be. When she has a day off, we spend it together, so I'm not totally alone, but her days off are few and far between. It's not the same as when we all had summer vacation together. She has grown up.
Will is gone. We write letters. He writes letters. I had NO IDEA how difficult this would be for me. I think about him constantly. Correction, I worry about him constantly! He is doing something so difficult, only made worse by the disgusting heat he has to do it in! I can't fall asleep at night for worrying about him. I wake up early worrying about him. If I could siphon off some of my energy and willpower and send it to him, I would in a heartbeat.
I thought I was prepared for this. After all, I was an Army Sister, and a Navy Sister-in-Law. And I was a Marines Step-Mom. And I did worry about my brothers and my step son. But not like this! I can't decide if it is just because he is my youngest, or if it is because we share a special bond that is rare for a teen son and his Mom. All I know is that I pray for him almost constantly. I watch the news with extra concern. It feels like the world is imploding and I want to keep my son safe, but I can't because he is a soldier and that is what he chose.
I have always been a worrier, anyways. I used to worry about the kids walking home from Elementary School. I worried when they got their driver's license. I worried when they went on their first dates. I worry whenever they have to face something new.
It is amazing I don't have a stomach full of ulcer holes, actually.
So, I wish I could go back in time and relive those summers past.
If you are in the thick of a child filled summer, CHERISH IT! It will not come again! Play with them! Swim with them! Forget about the chores! Who cares about the house!
Go!
Do stuff WITH the kids!
Make memories and savor every moment.
Now that we have that out of the way, I have to tell you why this is the hardest summer, ever!
No, really.
Summers had been my time to play with my kids. We hung out at the pool, or the lake, or the water park (notice the water related theme?), we watched movies, or we wandered around town looking for fun stuff to do. We'd flood the backyard and paddle around in it, then watch the dragonflies dance across the makeshift pond. When they were little, they'd have sleep outs in the tree house up in the cherry tree. Later, the backyard campouts moved down to a tent in the yard when they got too big for the tree house. Their friends came over and we had late night bonfires, roasting hot dogs and s'mores while lazily listening to the crickets and the train whistle in the distance while counting stars. Sweet summertime teen romances flared up only to die down with the start of a new school year.
My summer was full of my kids.
Not so much, anymore.
Helena works full time. Her boyfriend has relocated to Oregon, so when she's not at work, she's Skyping him. That is how it should be. When she has a day off, we spend it together, so I'm not totally alone, but her days off are few and far between. It's not the same as when we all had summer vacation together. She has grown up.
Will is gone. We write letters. He writes letters. I had NO IDEA how difficult this would be for me. I think about him constantly. Correction, I worry about him constantly! He is doing something so difficult, only made worse by the disgusting heat he has to do it in! I can't fall asleep at night for worrying about him. I wake up early worrying about him. If I could siphon off some of my energy and willpower and send it to him, I would in a heartbeat.
I thought I was prepared for this. After all, I was an Army Sister, and a Navy Sister-in-Law. And I was a Marines Step-Mom. And I did worry about my brothers and my step son. But not like this! I can't decide if it is just because he is my youngest, or if it is because we share a special bond that is rare for a teen son and his Mom. All I know is that I pray for him almost constantly. I watch the news with extra concern. It feels like the world is imploding and I want to keep my son safe, but I can't because he is a soldier and that is what he chose.
I have always been a worrier, anyways. I used to worry about the kids walking home from Elementary School. I worried when they got their driver's license. I worried when they went on their first dates. I worry whenever they have to face something new.
It is amazing I don't have a stomach full of ulcer holes, actually.
So, I wish I could go back in time and relive those summers past.
If you are in the thick of a child filled summer, CHERISH IT! It will not come again! Play with them! Swim with them! Forget about the chores! Who cares about the house!
Go!
Do stuff WITH the kids!
Make memories and savor every moment.
Letters in the Mail
It has been nearly 3 weeks since Will left for Basic Training.
It feels like forever. It feels like he just left yesterday.
Time is weird.
On the day that he left, I kept my phone in my hand the entire afternoon and evening. I knew his plane took off around 1:00ish, so I started being phone crazy around 3. At 4:45, he sent me a text to let me know their plane had landed in Oklahoma. That was bonus communication no. 1.
My friend, Michelle, invited me out to get a treat that evening, but I asked her for a raincheck, because I was so paranoid I'd miss the official one-and-only phone call from my boy.
He called at 10:00 that night. But, it wasn't the official phone call. It was bonus communication no. 2! It was 11 pm for him, and the recruits were all sent to bed without doing the shake-down. So, he was able to call me and actually TALK about how things were going for him. Oh, that made me so happy!!! He couldn't talk for long, because it was 11 pm and they had to get up at 4 am. He did say he spent most of the evening lining up in various places and "getting yelled at a lot". He sounded happy.
The official phone call came at 3:30 our time the following morning. At 4:30 for him, the Drill Sergeants stood over all the recruits and listened to them as they recited a canned speech about arriving safely and surrendering their phones, I love you and goodbye. And, that was it. I could hear many other voices in the background saying the same thing into their phones as Will was saying it to me.
I just said "I love you, I love you, I love you" over and over just before he hung up.
And, that was it.
On July 9th, I got bonus communication no. 3! Helena and I were out and about shopping when I got a phone call from Will! I am so grateful that I had my phone in my hand at that moment, because I would have been so upset if I had missed the call! It was another canned speech about "crossing the tracks" from Processing to Basic. Again, I just said "I love you, I love you, I love you!"
So, now I am phone obsessed. My kids always complained that it was impossible to get me on the phone because I never hear it ring. Not anymore. I guarantee, if you call, I will notice it, now. They were supposed to be granted a holiday phone call home on the 4th of July, but someone in the formation swore and wouldn't fess up to it, so they all lost phone privileges. I never know when a phone call might be granted, so I have to be prepared!
Now, about those letters.
I started writing letters on the very first day he was gone. I had no way to mail them to him, of course, but that didn't stop me. I had at least 12 letters piled up before I actually got an address, so his first packet of mail was slightly fat. :)
Will's first two letters home were short, upbeat, and awesome. The first two letters were from Processing, or just after. The third letter is the one that tore at my heartstrings.
His most recent letter said that he felt sick. Physically, that is. And homesick. Oh, that just tore me to pieces. When he wrote that letter, he hadn't received any letters from home yet, because that is the frustrating fact of snail mail. Your communications with each other often cross paths.
Let me back up. His homesick letter was written on the 12th. The day before he went to church. On Sunday the 13th, I got a phone call from a service missionary member (an Elder Tomani) in the church there who told me that Will had come to church, filled out the information form, and checked the box asking that they call his family to let us know he was doing alright. (This was bonus communication no. 4!) Elder Tomani is the one who was able to give me Will's mailing address. I mailed his big packet of 12+ letters the very next morning, the 14th. (Will's first letter hadn't had a return address on it, because when he wrote it, he was still in Processing and didn't have an address to give me.) I didn't get the letter he wrote on the 12th (about feeling sick) until the 16th.
Can you see the frustration in all this?
In this digital age, it is difficult dealing with snail mail.
But mostly, it is difficult being the Mom and being so far away in space and time that I didn't know my son was feeling sick until 4 days after the fact. Was he running a fever? Was it just fatigue and muscle soreness? Was it something he ate? Was it his body adjusting to new germs/environment? Was there a way for him to report feeling sick without getting chewed out by a Drill Sergeant? Is he now feeling better?
I don't know the answers to any of those questions. I haven't gotten another letter from him since.
I do trust the Army to look out for my son. I trust my son to do what needs to be done.
I just hate snail mail. And I love getting letters from him!
Snail mail is weird.
It feels like forever. It feels like he just left yesterday.
Time is weird.
On the day that he left, I kept my phone in my hand the entire afternoon and evening. I knew his plane took off around 1:00ish, so I started being phone crazy around 3. At 4:45, he sent me a text to let me know their plane had landed in Oklahoma. That was bonus communication no. 1.
My friend, Michelle, invited me out to get a treat that evening, but I asked her for a raincheck, because I was so paranoid I'd miss the official one-and-only phone call from my boy.
He called at 10:00 that night. But, it wasn't the official phone call. It was bonus communication no. 2! It was 11 pm for him, and the recruits were all sent to bed without doing the shake-down. So, he was able to call me and actually TALK about how things were going for him. Oh, that made me so happy!!! He couldn't talk for long, because it was 11 pm and they had to get up at 4 am. He did say he spent most of the evening lining up in various places and "getting yelled at a lot". He sounded happy.
The official phone call came at 3:30 our time the following morning. At 4:30 for him, the Drill Sergeants stood over all the recruits and listened to them as they recited a canned speech about arriving safely and surrendering their phones, I love you and goodbye. And, that was it. I could hear many other voices in the background saying the same thing into their phones as Will was saying it to me.
I just said "I love you, I love you, I love you" over and over just before he hung up.
And, that was it.
On July 9th, I got bonus communication no. 3! Helena and I were out and about shopping when I got a phone call from Will! I am so grateful that I had my phone in my hand at that moment, because I would have been so upset if I had missed the call! It was another canned speech about "crossing the tracks" from Processing to Basic. Again, I just said "I love you, I love you, I love you!"
So, now I am phone obsessed. My kids always complained that it was impossible to get me on the phone because I never hear it ring. Not anymore. I guarantee, if you call, I will notice it, now. They were supposed to be granted a holiday phone call home on the 4th of July, but someone in the formation swore and wouldn't fess up to it, so they all lost phone privileges. I never know when a phone call might be granted, so I have to be prepared!
Now, about those letters.
I started writing letters on the very first day he was gone. I had no way to mail them to him, of course, but that didn't stop me. I had at least 12 letters piled up before I actually got an address, so his first packet of mail was slightly fat. :)
Will's first two letters home were short, upbeat, and awesome. The first two letters were from Processing, or just after. The third letter is the one that tore at my heartstrings.
His most recent letter said that he felt sick. Physically, that is. And homesick. Oh, that just tore me to pieces. When he wrote that letter, he hadn't received any letters from home yet, because that is the frustrating fact of snail mail. Your communications with each other often cross paths.
Let me back up. His homesick letter was written on the 12th. The day before he went to church. On Sunday the 13th, I got a phone call from a service missionary member (an Elder Tomani) in the church there who told me that Will had come to church, filled out the information form, and checked the box asking that they call his family to let us know he was doing alright. (This was bonus communication no. 4!) Elder Tomani is the one who was able to give me Will's mailing address. I mailed his big packet of 12+ letters the very next morning, the 14th. (Will's first letter hadn't had a return address on it, because when he wrote it, he was still in Processing and didn't have an address to give me.) I didn't get the letter he wrote on the 12th (about feeling sick) until the 16th.
Can you see the frustration in all this?
In this digital age, it is difficult dealing with snail mail.
But mostly, it is difficult being the Mom and being so far away in space and time that I didn't know my son was feeling sick until 4 days after the fact. Was he running a fever? Was it just fatigue and muscle soreness? Was it something he ate? Was it his body adjusting to new germs/environment? Was there a way for him to report feeling sick without getting chewed out by a Drill Sergeant? Is he now feeling better?
I don't know the answers to any of those questions. I haven't gotten another letter from him since.
I do trust the Army to look out for my son. I trust my son to do what needs to be done.
I just hate snail mail. And I love getting letters from him!
Snail mail is weird.
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