Happy Anniversary to Me

I'm getting fucking old.  I cannot believe I've been married for 18 years, 16 of which have been as an Army wife.  And it's apparently difficult for other people to believe that a marriage, especially a military one, can survive so long.  I am constantly asked what the secret is. There's the usual crap--honesty, faithfulness and communication.  Yeah, yeah.  We do all that but that's not what really makes our marriage a good one.  So here it is, the great secret that I've been keeping to myself--first and foremost, my husband is my friend.  Secondly, you cannot sweat the small stuff--you know, like deployments and shitty pay and crap work schedule and stupid people.  That's it.  That's my secret. 

Here's a good example.  Upon my hubby first going active duty, his first unit is the Rakkasans.  Ranger standards (although most Rakks will tell you Rangers are pussies) and an inordinately ridiculous training schedule with field problems every couple of months.  We get to Campbell, get thrown into this unit, and I'm thinking "What the FUCK is going on?"  He gets paid next to nothing, works 12-15 hours days, and leaves for weeks on end every other month.  Talk about a rude wake up call as to what exactly military life is going to be like. 

But you get used to it.  You adapt.  You learn to treasure the little things, like DONSAs and tax returns.  But I think the biggest surprise for me was that I could manage on my own and that my marriage was actually better than it had been before the Army.  Somewhere along the line, in the midst of all the bullshit and insanity, I had learned a valuable but simple truth--absence does make the heart grow fonder, and by this I mean that about the time I was ready to kill the motherfucker that is my husband, he left and by the time he came back, I actually missed him. 

So when 9/11 happened and he came home from work just ecstatic that he was finally going to put all the weeks and months of training to use (or as he put it, "to go kill some motherfuckers"), I was ready.  Another nice long break from the bastard.  Nice!  And he gets paid extra while he's gone so this could be a REALLY good thing.  So 6 months later, he's in Afghanistan and I get to experience deployment and all the bullshit firsthand.  Six months of nail biting later, I had survived, the children were still alive, and the house wasn't falling down.  The hubby came home without a scratch.  And after six months, I was really glad to have him home.  (And not just for the sex, alothough that is nice.  For the comradery, friendship, adult conversation, help with the kids.  Stuff like that.  OK.  But mostly the sex.)

After a whopping 4 months at home, he's off to BNOC for two months (which I was not terribly happy about, because I wasn't tired of him yet) and they had to graduate him a few days early to deploy to Iraq for OIF-1.  36 hours at home from school, leaving a trail of TA-50, bitching when he can't find something, treating me like his personal valet, and then he's off to war and I'm on my own again.  You know what, after those 36 hours, I was really happy to see that fucker leave.  He got the standard Kate good-bye.  "Keep your head down, your ass tucked in, and I'll see you when you get home."  I was so proud of myself.  At no point did I tell him he was an asshole or a miserable son of a bitch like he deserved.  See, I can be nice.  Fucker.

Now preparatory to deployment, I had called all the wives in my hubby's squad to introduce myself and let them know that I was available should they need anything.  Advice, a friendly ear, help with a military issue, whatever.  So the boys leave and two days into deployment, I get a call from an hysterical wife.  She's not sick, no issues with the military side of things, no kid problems.  She called me because she was "lonely and didn't know what to do. . . "  Great.  A whiny fucking bitch. 

However, contrary to what this blog may reveal about my typical method of handling stress and situations that may arise, I can be diplomatic when absolutely necessary (just don't expect it very fucking often).  I calmed her down, gave her the chaplain's number, suggested she maybe volunteer or get a job to stay busy and keep her mind off of things, get a hobby, and to not worry because the Rakks are the best at what they do and the boys will be fine.  Go me.  She couldn't leave well enough alone, though.  She had to ask it. 

"How do you stay so calm?  Don't you miss your husband?"

And here's where the blunt, foul-mouthed, bitchy Kate reared her ugly head and laid it out for the blubbering, bawling bitch on the other end of the line. 

"Fuck NO, I don't miss him!  They've been gone 2 FUCKING days.  Really?  I'm glad the son of a bitch is out of my house.  I've spent the last two days cleaning up the aftermath of his packing spree and now all the TA-50 is contained and the fuck out my way.  My house is actually clean and I don't have to hear him bitching about getting left behind because he was stuck at that fucking school and it's bullshit he'll miss the invasion and how I'm useless and where's his shit or how he wants to get laid.  Fuck him!  He needed to leave or I would have killed him.  I'm glad he's gone.  I need a break.  Really?  Two days and you're ready to have a mental breakdown?  Call me in a month.  I might have decided by then that I don't hate his fucking guts or want him to die.  No, I take that back.  In a month he gets paid all that extra pay, so in a month I'm going to be doing a happy dance on the LES and I still won't give a fuck that he's gone.  In fact, if the Army is going to keep paying him that extra cash, at this stage of the game, I say they can just keep his happy ass over there!" 

Maybe not the best way to comfort a wife who is upset about deployment, but she DID ask and I cannot tell a lie (cough, cough).   Anyway, deployments are a good break for us and the first 2-3 months are a relief for both of us.  I don't have to put up with his assholery, and he gets away from my bitchiness.  Works well for us.  I'm not saying that deployment is fun in any manner, shape or form (because deployments fucking suck!) but you take what you can get and try to make the best of things. 

Anyway, that's my secret to a good and lasting marriage. I married my best friend and the Army keeps us in a state of fucking limbo that we've managed to convolute into something that helps us appreciate each other.   18 years and still going.  And now, thanks to 5 kids, I'm too expensive to get rid of, so the fucker is stuck with me now!