Honing In and Helping Out

When Devildog got fired from the retail job, (meepmeep! tire tracks don't wash out of clothes by the way) I told him "Go to school" and he resisted with the same LAME excuses he'd been using the last 10+ years. It was October, and I told him he had time to keep looking for a job while he got things started for the Spring semester in January. Nothing came of the job search, but he did get his butt to school. He went to school through the Summer, and into the Fall. Then started that 4th semester but things got crazy, and it didn't happen. But he did get a very part time job. He chose nursing as his focus of study, which I find ironic and amusing. After a MAJOR injury, and much of his childhood spent in doctors' offices, hospitals, etc, and he hates any proximity to any of it.

But I see it in him. It's his calling. He is a natural born leader, and always has been. The Marine Corps honed that trait, Home Depot put it to use handily till someone lied to cover their own misstep, and he is prone to taking charge elsewhere. It's a different dynamic at home, because I'm here with my own way of doing things, and there's wisdom in the compromise.

He has related a story of an incident on the softball field where a pitcher got lasered with a ball coming back from the batter, right smack dab in the temple, splitting his head open to the bone. There was blood gushing everywhere, and Devildog jumped in, taking charge, calling for ice, putting pressure on the bleed, talking to the guy to keep him awake, and down from a panic because every heart beat sent more blood surging from the wound, risking his consciousness and potentially the opportunity to see his children grow. EMTs arrived, crediting Devildog with giving them a live, conscious patient to transport. Devildog came home from the game that night, a little shaken and worried for how things would result for this guy.

Several months later, the pitcher was working a service call - at the full time job Devildog landed a few weeks after I enrolled to sell Thirty-One. In any case, he saw Devildog and stopped to say hi to him. There's a massive scar, nerve damage, some other brain injury type things, and the gift of being alive and seeing his wife and children every day. And there was a sense of pride the day Devildog got a personal update from this guy. It took a couple days because of our crazy schedules, but he told me about the encounter, and I could see and sense the pull he has to pursue this goal.

At the first ultrasound appointment in July, he was enthralled, not just as a new dad, but as a guy who took Anatomy & Physiology with the intention of going to nursing school. He was naming off the parts the ultrasound tech was labeling for the reports going to the doctors, and parts not being labeled. He was totally fascinated by the images of blood flow, and little tiny human parts, and the magic glimpse into a secret world that the ultrasound machine provided. I was watching my mini-human, as a mom. I was watching my husband as a wife who knew she had to make things happen for them both.

Fast forward a few weeks to the follow up ultrasound to check that choroid plexus situation, plus fetal echo because they like to pick on the old broads who breed. Here he was again, just completely like a little kid who loves trains visiting a train station. I mean it was so uber cool to watch the valves of the heart flicking in response to the blood moving through them, and the pulsing of the heart, and the ductal arch, and the red and blue of the blood flow on the magic screen. But for Devildog, it was even more evident that this was more than just cool stuff for him. This, was unequivocally, his calling.

He has said he needs to go back to school, and I absolutely agree. The timing for our lives has never been all that convenient for anything, so here we go with a few more years of Semper Gumby soon. I want for my husband to enjoy his job and love what he does. He's not at that job right now, and the only thing keeping him where he is, happens to be a lot of overtime pay, insurance because I'm pregnant with our 5th child, and sheer adult responsibility. In turn to him feeling called to go to school, I feel compelled to do what ever it is I need to do to help him get it done. I know this means a lot of sacrifice for all of us. I know this means a sort of geographical single parenthood. But I survived being a Marine's wife, setting me up to be able to navigate that kind of journey. Semper Gumby it will be, and a lot of eyes on the eventual prize. I can't say I'm entirely excited about this whole idea because I know it's a lot of work. But there are lots of wise quotes citing opportunities looking like work, so I'm just going to trust that between God, us, our support network, and lots of work ethic, we will get through this challenge and emerge on the other side with something awesome.

Originality and Humor

When questioning the fertility and family size of folks who have more than 2.8 children, you are encouraged to avoid the same. trite. comments. every. single. body. else. has. used. before. you.

Seriously. It's lame. We live in a circus of our own, with our own brands of chaos. If you're going to waste our time with the same junk as everyone else, save your breath. It takes a lot to entertain us, given our own spawned clowns and elephants. It's the one common vent amongst parents of larger sized families.

The family of four kids I have doesn't really feel that large to me. But, I got lots of crap when I was pregnant with Blur. So you can imagine why I felt a need to just keep this fifth one off the radar completely. I was mentally and emotionally starting to come around to the idea of surprise #5, and then my husband outed me on Facebook with a post of an ultrasound picture. He missed the memo on my non-online-disclosure decision. I'd intentionally kept it off my primary page, and only shared in closed groups and private messages where I knew I'd have supportive, or at least funny, commentary.

And in that 21 week scan, we learned this baby had bilateral cysts on the choroid plexus. It's a normal variant, provided there are no other variants like the long bones being short. Thankfully the long bones were measuring normally, if not a week ahead of dates. (It explains the incessant craving for dairy, there was some bone growth & ossification happening.) So we had to do a follow up today. The cysts remedied themselves. The fluid was apparently just extra buildup in some hormonal surge and extra time was needed to reabsorb it. I don't have to go back to get that monitored. Then there's the issue of my "advanced maternal age" prompting things like needing a fetal echo done. Yep, heart is fine too. Everything is where it should be and functioning properly and well.

Since my husband outed me, I figured I'd post my own picture from today's scan. Apparently, I'm not stalker-worthy material and some folks were unaware of the story, and that surprised a few more folks. And then visibly, the belly is winning the race now, and it's darn near impossible to hide the belly, unless I don one of Omar-the-tentmaker's frocks. So, I'm getting comments in person too.

Here, let me just answer all the questions and save folks the trouble of asking. I want to spare you the trouble, and also spare you the dirty looks you'll get, plus the tone of voice, and sharp responses of which I'm capable of providing. Because like I said: It's lame, and it does nothing to entertain me. And it's just not funny. I'm easily amused, but the same questions just don't do it for me. Step up your game already. Be original and humorous. Give me something I haven't already heard.

Are you ready for it? Here goes:

1. Yes, we know what causes it. We've had 21 years of practice. We're damn good at it. We like it. We're married to each other, so we're SUPPOSED to be doing it with each other, not someone else. It's not wrong to actually LIKE your spouse. We've worked a lot of years to get where we are, and we like where we are. Don't be jealous that you can't get in on our party, ok? Just go get your own.

2. Yes, we have tv, cable, dvd's, etc and we utilize them. We actually have multiples of each. Oh, ANNNND we have computers with internet access, plus smartphones. We have friends. We have access to entertainment. And we have access to each other - you know like I said up  there^ in that spousal thing.

3. Yes, *I* am Catholic, but my husband is not. Our inter-faith marriage is always a work in progress, and we don't follow any one strict tenet versus another. Ours is an interesting dance of sorts, melded together the last 21 years with a lot of compromise after a lot of trial and error. Apparently, I'm a better Catholic than I thought I was, though. And apparently, I'm the kind of Catholic girl the Southern Baptist boys like. Take that as you will.

4. Yes, we've heard of birth control, and condoms, and at some points, we HAVE utilized a variety of all of them. I don't have to share this topic with anyone outside of my husband, I am not going to share the details of why, how, etc of what we do in that regard. I don't say a word about your decision to do permanent sterilization, hormonal birth control, barrier methods, etc. Be respectful of what we do, just like I'm respectful of what you do. In short, I stay out of your uterus, you stay out of mine.

5. Yes, everything OBVIOUSLY functions just normally, nothing is broken, so please tell me what is there to fix?

6. Yes, I have my hands full. I have a head and heart full too. The van is full. The house is full. The garage is full too. Our lives are full. How is yours? Is it full of good stuff or just junk and drama and crap?
There are people who completely ache and pay lots of money to ATTEMPT to even get a tenth of what we have. I'm truly and completely blessed, while my heart breaks for those who long for the simplest part of my life, and some may never have it. Don't tell me the obvious, because somewhere in earshot of your comment is someone else who you're insulting in the opposite manner, by reminding them of their empty hearts and arms. And there are those who have suffered the losses of 4, 5, even 8, or 12, or more babies and pregnancies. They are so grateful to have a baby make it into this world, while forever mourning the loss of those who grew wings before seeing light of day. They happily bring as many into this world as they humanly can. It hurts and it stings and it drives the knives deeper, while you twist them. Do you still feel brilliant saying that one?

7.  No, I don't know how YOU do it with just one, or two. Seriously, I need balance in my life, and I need my own interests and hobbies. I don't know how you can helicopter- and lawnmower-parent a completely normal child who has zero no neuro-challenges and come out the other side with your dignity and sanity intact, or theirs for that matter. I delegate stuff to the kids to do, as they become independent and capable enough to handle things. I've blogged about that before. Simply put, it's my job to create independent people who can function outside of me, and handle the hiccups of life. I have my own interests because one day those buggers will fly the nest and I don't want to be that mother-in-law that gets ranted about on the internet. I want my children and their families to feel like I respect their adulthood, and parenthood, and I will do my best to allow that by knowing my place in their world and not encroaching where I do not belong. I blessedly have a fair selection of wise in-laws who may not agree with how we do things, but they know it's not their family or household.

8.  No, I didn't realize that we didn't need to have any more kids. Thank you for telling me that. I didn't realize I was still 6, and asking for a second dessert an hour before bedtime. Last I checked, we are well beyond age 18, and still married to the same person after all these years. If I have my wits about me, we have kids who are 20 and almost 19. So unless there's some strange science or miracle, I think we are qualified to decide what my husband and I need, or don't need. I think your words simply speak of your own insecurities, and lack of time spent with us and getting to know us sufficiently. We are raising our kids in a manner that rivals most any other way modern parents do nowadays, and we've got one who was trained for management at his job as soon as he graduated high school, and another about to head off to MCRD Parris Island for boot camp. The Marines don't take *just* anybody. Our oldest daughter has life skills her peers can't fathom, and a perspective they won't achieve till they're much older. Our preschooler is articulate, funny, well-adjusted and capable of handling things kids her age still have a tantrum over happening, and she's fiercely independent. But they're still capable of being kids. We haven't robbed them of anything. We've sacrificed our own self-serving desires to give them what they need. We have indulged in some things, because we need balance and they need to see us doing our own thing, chasing our own goals and dreams, and they need to see us sacrifice for the greater good or to achieve those goals. Despite the fact that I'm running headlong toward 40, and I still don't know what I want to be when I grow up, either.

9. Yes, they were all surprises. No, we didn't plan or try for any of them. They were all not in our radar at the times they appeared on it, and now we can't imagine that radar without them there. Then they brought friends to the party, who we mistreat just the same as we do our own. I have birthed and borrowed children, and never imagined this many people would call me Mom. I'm just glad I didn't have to change all of THEIR diapers, or potty train them.

10.  No, we don't know if we're done yet. We thought we were done with the last 5. No, we don't know if we'll have any more. Every time we have thought "done" and laid plans of our own, another mini human comes along and mucks up the plans. But it's cool. We make pretty babies with brains and a sense of humor. And they think it's pretty neat that mom & dad ride motorcycles. Well, dad does, mom's just good at dropping them and then getting pregnant again.
One other side note about the variations of these questions: Again, when you're asking a parent of one, or ten, about the number of kids, you're insulting them. And the ones who only have one or two who like previously mentioned, utterly ACHE for more kids and can't attain that are once again stabbed by your words. Why must you be so intrusive? Don't be offended if one of us snaps back with "Why? were you looking to hire me as your surrogate, because I don't know if I'm the one you want doing that. I might not want to give up a child to be raised by twits like you."

11.  No, I'm not easily offended. I married a Marine and had a bunch of children with him. When you have that combination, you recognize when God laughs at you (in my case, it's almost daily since the early 1990s), and you learn to live by that other Marine motto: Semper Gumby. If you think you can offend me, you can, but it requires extreme stupidity, lack of consideration and forethought, no sense of humor, and downright intrusive and demeaning foolishness. I am not sure you want to test the mettle of this Feisty Irish Wench. Some of the things slung at me verbally by strangers, meant to offend, really didn't do that. I've survived a number of things, including two teens at once - and one was a daily test of my faith and ovarian fortitude. I have reasonably thick skin, and some of you will be lucky I don't have him with me when you open your mouth.

So, please, I absolutely encourage you to get creative when you see me or my larger-family cohorts. Ask us something we have NOT already been asked. Or for poops n giggles, maybe say something encouraging to the mom whose day is shot because of that series of wackadoodle events instead of "well you chose to have that many". Yep, we ultimately did. Someone has to combat the stupidity of the world, and it may as well be us, because YOU are sucking at it.

I'm getting old, and I don't wanna

This week has already been a roller coaster, and it's only Tuesday.
A few around me are brokenhearted after the loss of loved ones. And then I had an amazing Monday that got punctuated by my sister needing to go to the ER and be admitted to the hospital for a couple days. She will be fine, but she knows how to scare people.

And then... today, is another round of mixed emotions.

This goofy kid......

..... is the future of the Marine Corps

Cheers, Devildogs

It's a Marine thing, and unless you are one, you would never understand.

Happy Birthday to all my Devildogs. Born in Tun Tavern on 10 November 1775, and hard charging ever since, every Marine has 2 birthdays. There's the one that brought their physical presence to this earth, and then there's the one that made them who they are. And you can bet your beer that the latter is the one they'll cherish most. They throw the biggest best party for themselves, and make no apologies for it. (Besides, when have you ever known a Marine to need to apologize?) They hold their forebears in high regard for paving the way ahead of them. They can tell who is another Marine, almost on sight. They cover the six of any fellow Marine that needs it. They give 1000%, and they don't quit. They shoot first, then ask questions, but there are few questions given their marksmanship.

I know these things about them. But I'll never *know* these things. I love my Marine. And I have a love for all the other Marines. I am who I am today, in part because of my spousal connection to the Corps. I have grown and blossomed and become as feisty as I am, because I learned things I would have only learned as a Marine's wife. I am strong, capable, independent, and (marginally) adaptable, because I had to be those things at a young age. While most people my age were going to college and partying, I was married with 2 kids, living at Camp Lejeune, and supporting my husband's career. It's where I learned how to get in the wheelbarrow sometimes, and when I had to be the one pushing it. My father taught me to be able to handle little things like minor repairs, taking care of vehicles etc. Knowing those things helped my husband not worry about the house falling down around me because I was incapable of handling it. To this day, 20 years later, he still trusts me to be able to handle stuff. Sometimes, I'd like for him to not leave as much of that pesky stuff to my charge though.

To all you potential employers out there: Don't overlook the military spouse, or the spouses of veterans. Generally, these folks are highly employable for the latent skill sets that come from being a military spouse. They understand the concept of a work ethic and loyalty, are more willing to stretch themselves to achieve results, and are often adaptable. As Semper Fidelis is the Marine's motto, Semper Gumby is the motto of the Marine spouse.

So, Happy Birthday Devildogs. And thank you to all who shared them with the rest of us.

(Photo shamelessly snagged from Devildog Graphix)

I knew there was a reason I liked Margaret Cho

http://jezebel.com/5875219/cho-mad-twitter
This is what prompted my previous blog post. It was late, and I had to empty my brain. Reading that page strummed an emotional chord with me, and I wouldn't have slept if I hadn't gotten all that out of my head.

I sometimes struggle with balancing the sweet and the sour sides of me. On occasion I think I should be more docile and kinder in general. And while I should, the long-standing anger and resentment that I keep shoving back to its dark hole still reaches an arm up and grabs my ankle, trying to pull me down there with it. But in all honesty, I like who I am now, and I don't want to change things. I do want to corral the mean side of me, but that's always going to be a work in progress. I don't want to become so docile that I fail to LIVE. (Insert Auntie Mame-to-Miss Gooch quote about living here)

I used to be shy. Yes, me, shy - it's sometimes hard for me to believe too. Teachers would call on me because they knew I was smart enough to answer the question, but I was barely audible to even the kid sitting next to me. An hour later, the teacher could hear me talking over the rest of the class. There were lots of things that shoved me into that dark hole. Constantly being stymied and squashed by my parents for whatever reasons they held, being teased by my peers, having a raging case of ADD and no skills to work around it, having a big lack of social skills, being molested several times over the course of a few years by someone related to me, and a general case of "nobody gets me" for years will do a number on a person. I knew I could do so much more than I was actually accomplishing, and that failing of myself cuts too. A sheer lack of electives that interested me at the junior high is what sent me to band. I needed 2 performing arts credits to graduate, so naturally I opted for band again when I moved to the high school for 10th grade. That single set of decisions is what I credit for changing my life entirely. Band geeks get it, and each other, and they don't judge (much) for the quirks. Score one for my dig out of the hole. A girl in band with me moved to my school because her dad was in the Lutheran seminary and that was his year to serve at the church down the street from school. She was in Upward Bound. I got into the program here because I knew her, even though my school wasn't a feeder for that program. That program has a summer component where you live on the college campus, in the dorms, go to classes to get you a leg up for the school year, and you continue through the year on Saturdays. That program is where I met Devildog.

I credit him with cracking my shell. I'm pretty sure that sometimes, he wishes he hadn't. He single-handedly reversed the inner voices in my head. Because of him, I believe that I really AM a beautiful, intelligent, capable and awesome woman. He refused to let me say that I was ugly, stupid, incapable, or less than stellar. He encouraged me to do things that I had been scared of doing for the lamest of reasons to be scared. While he didn't build my confidence, he did do his part to give me the means to feel confident. BIG score 2 for my dig out of the hole.
Because Devildog & I had 1.75 kids by the time we graduated high school, he opted to join the Marine Corps. As a Marine's wife, you put up with a lot of crap that civilian wives don't. You also grow a backbone bigger than a civilian wife's. You gain skills that even some males don't have. My husband brought home a book called "Roses & Thorns", which turned out to be a handy written heads-up for me. I think every military spouse should read it as soon as they're engaged or married to a service member. Then he signed me up for a Brides's Class at the Family Service Center at Camp Lejune. I freaked when he said he wasn't going. "I'm not doing that without you!" He calmly looked at me and said "Honey, I still have to go to work. And they'll pay for child care for you to go to the class". That one, he SHOVED me at, kicking and screaming and I am ever grateful he did. I learned a hell of a lot those 3 days. That prompted me to start volunteering at Navy-Marine Corps Relief Society, where I learned much-needed career skills, and more about navigating military life. From there I landed a job at a hotel, where I made myself valuable. Then I moved on to the merchandising job I have now.

All along the way, I've ticked little things off my bucket list. I have grown bigger balls than I ever imagined I would have. If I'd had the skills, attitude, confidence and general persona that I have now, when I was in my 20's, I think our lives would be even better now than they are. I have taken on a personality that people aren't sure about when they first meet me. I am rough around the edges despite my outward beauty. I feel even more beautiful now than I did 10 years ago, despite my need to work out and tone up the muscles from baby#4. But inside I still feel edgy, and the inner Betty Badass keeps popping up to say hi. She's the reason I can take my van someplace and be taken seriously. I learned to use a weapon out of necessity, because one was in the house. If you have something in your life, you need to know how to operate it. The gun range is FUN, and I love going. I haven't been since before I got pregnant with the Blur. I'm overdue for some range time.
Likewise, I've wanted to learn how to ride a motorcycle since I was a kid my daughter's age. It was always something on my list, but I didn't have much drive or need to accomplish it just yet. Then, Devildog's Bronco was having some issues, and fixing it was becoming a regular thing. The neighbor jacked up his truck to excessive redneck proportions, to the point it was no longer street legal. He needed to get a truck to tow his TRUCK, so he put his motorcycle up for sale. We used a chunk of our tax refund to buy it. Even I knew it was an awesome deal, and I don't lament or regret that purchase. So, now, that means I have to learn how to ride for real. I've long staved off Devildog buying a bike, saying "I am not gonna be the broad on the back. You get a bike when I get one too." Well, necessity and a great deal on a bike has merited a change of sorts. I'm ok waiting till the kids are older for us to buy a 2nd motorcycle. However, before I even think about riding the back of someone's bike, I have to learn how to operate one. I need to know what to expect from my driver if I'm riding passenger. So that's one of the bigger things on my bucket list that I'm ticking off of it soon. I love gifts, but given the state of my house, clutter free ones are awesome. I asked for the class for my birthday, and some friends have helped make that happen.

And when I finish that course, and get the motorcycle endorsement that Florida requires to legally ride a motorcycle, you can bet, that Betty's ego will be just a little bit bigger. And that shy, beaten-down little girl who still lurks in the recesses of my life will have won another small victory over the people like my grandmother who threw her hands up cursing and saying I'd never learn how to crochet (HAH~ check me out ya witch, I can crochet AND knit!), those who called me ugly, weird, stupid, mistreated me, harmed me and the ones who asked me at 7 months pregnant with my now 18 year old son "Who would f**k you?". Yes, Dennis and Ronnie, I am still waiting to see you this many years later, because I'll gladly introduce you to the Devildog. And I look better now, than I did when we were in school. Tsk, too bad you were a prick to me, because I had a major crush on one of you in 9th grade too.

I get the best revenge because I refuse to let the shadows of my past keep me stuck there, and hiding behind dreams and what-ifs. And in a couple weeks, I can look a little more like Betty - riding a motorcycle.

236

Happy 236th Birthday United States Marine Corps!


OOHRAH Devildogs! Go eat some cake.

Birthdays and Bronchitis

OK, first I wanted to share this with you from GoDaddy.com that came to my inbox a little bit ago. For anyone that doesn't know, the founder and CEO of GoDaddy is Bob Parsons, is a prior service Marine. Every year he posts a tribute to the Corps, including in the monthly newsletters. It's a tad late, but you can see the USMC Birthday Tribute yourself. I will be showing it to Devildog when he gets home from the store of orange.

And the other topic of this zero-dark-thirty post: I think I'm sick. If it was allergies, it has become something upper respiratory and unpleasant. I feel fine, I just feel like my lungs, or at least the entrance to them, is not at full performance. Now ask me in a few days, and I may give you a different answer. This stuff generally becomes bronchitis in short order thanks to my mother smoking while pregnant with me and pretty much all my life, which is probably why I have asthma. I may be breaking out the nebulizer in a bit just to clear that cobwebs that have been crafted in my lungs. And I think I have some grownup form of cough medicine in a pill (name of product purposely withheld) but I don't know how much is in the bottle. I'm drinking warm liquids to aid the loosening of the yuck, including a plan for peppermint tea as soon as I'm done with my coffee. And I don't know what made me think I could get some compassion from my husband. I called Devildog to inform him that I thought I was unwell, and pretty much got a "Suck it up Marine" response from him, but in civilian terms. I'm off to go change my pillowcases too while I'm at it.

Happy Birthday US Marine Corps

You look good for your age ;) This post should have been posted sooner but it didn't happen. Call me distracted by real life and watching Food Network with my kids after dinner while they pined for the remote. I was in a bit of a coma, from making something salisbury steak like (The Devildog ate it, so it must have been safe) and having wine with my dinner. Shhhhh don't tell Devildog that I actually catnapped on the futon while watching Food Network. This after catnapping in the bed while snuggling with the Devildog before I made dinner. I had hamburger meat thawed, so I gave him the option of the meal. The rule in our house is the Birthday Person gets to choose, within reason and family budget. Salisbury Steak, Mashed Potatoes and Green beans is what he wanted. Southern? Why, yes, what gave you that idea about him? He's caused me a loss of some yankee tendencies over the years, including being stationed at Camp Lejune, NC, where everyone thought I was from New York. Except that those truly FROM New York knew better. I was too Southern to be a Yankee. But to the Southerners, I was too Yankee to be Southern. I will forgive him and the Corps for that move, because ultimately I did a lot of learning at that duty station, and even had ample amounts of stupidity. At Navy Marine Corps Relief Society, I learned much needed basic office skills, and how to crochet from the ladies in the layette room. It just took another 7 years for me to really get the hang of hook and yarn. I learned to cook some of Devildog's favorite recipes, like Catalina Chicken and Pork Chops & Sour Cream, immense thanks to Jessica Torrence from Tennesee. Hilda Muguerza, mother of Laura Torres, of Round Rock, Texas gave me the recipe for her Enchiladas and her Migas. I still have them tucked into the old Good Housekeeping cookbook longtime family friend Janie gave me when I turned 18. I got Peach Cobbler, Hamburger Casserole, Banana Bread, and the value of vinegar in the laundry when dealing with smelly PT gear, potty training children or forgotten loads of wash from Jana Anderson of Salt Lake City, UT. As much as Devildog didn't care for Ladera (last name and hometown withheld), I learned valuable lessons from her experiences as the daughter of a Marine Major and an elevated Federal staffer. I learned how to act confident, even if I wasn't, and I learned what resources to make use of and ask for myself. In the military, the general unwritten rule is "if you didn't ask for it, you didn't rate it", despite what the manual states. I borrowed books from the other Patricia from Indiana in our little corner, and I found Pam & Peggy in a book that sort of understood me, and years later I found another of their students that I follow.
I didn't intend for this post to wax nostalgic about the handful of years at Camp Lejune and while my husband was in the Marines. However, it's part of the sum of my experiences with the Marine Corps. It helped shape who I am now, much of it out of necessity. I was 500 miles from my family with two children and a lot to learn. I didn't learn it all, but I did learn. So, while I did not enter the gates of Parris Island a poolie recruit and leave a Marine, I did benefit from what the Marines as a whole taught me. I became better, stronger, and more confident for having married a Marine and joining the brotherhood as a Marine's Wife.
Semper Fi