eMail to the Front Read online

  eMail to the Front

  Alesia Holliday

  Alyssa Day

  Holliday Publishing

  To Judd, my personal hero:

  You believed in me even when I didn't. I love you more.

  To Connor, who loves me bigger than Earth:

  I love you bigger than Jupiter.

  To Lauren:

  May you always feel like a princess. I love you so much.

  To Mom, my number one fan:

  I'm your biggest fan, too. Cancer never had a chance.

  And, especially, to all Military Spouses everywhere:

  Thank you.

  Contents

  Introduction

  Glossary of Military and Navy Jargon

  I wasn’t ready…

  1. It’s Not Just a Marriage, It’s an Adventure

  2. Departure: Only 183 Days to Go

  3. The Stay-at-Home Military Spouse

  4. It’s Tuesday, What Time Is It in Bahrain

  5. The Dreaded Paper Chain

  6. The Lawn Mower SNAFU

  7. You’re Off Saving the World, and I’m Home Cleaning Dog Vomit

  8. I Don’t Churn My Own Butter, Either

  9. My Nomination for Mother of the Year Got Lost

  10. Lattes and Diet Coke Transfusions

  11. Your Son Discovered His Penis This Week

  12. Rebellion of the Appliances

  13. Staying Fit in Thirty Minutes a Month

  14. Geography and Friendships; Relocation, Relocation, Relocation

  15. Military Spouses’ Clubs: Sharing Tears, Laughter…and Quilt Squares

  16. Phone Calls at 4 AM

  17. That’s Classified

  18. Is It Safe to Eat Month-Old Cookies?

  19. Over the Hump

  20. Chasing Children, Running After Raccoons, and Other Aerobic Exercise

  21. ThreatCon Delta

  22. When Bad Things Happen

  23. Why Military Spouses Deserve Combat Pay

  24. Loneliness and Cold Feet

  25. Holidays: First Deployment

  26. The Home Stretch

  War deployment, the second

  27. You Don’t Write, You Don’t Call…

  28. Six Long Months: Will I Be a Virgin Again?

  29. It’s Like Being a Single Parent, But I Can’t Date

  30. How Will Santa Find Daddy?

  31. Fear, Danger, and Terrorism

  32. On Patriotism

  33. Enduring Freedom and Enduring Love

  34. Back in the Emergency Room

  35. Phone Sex on Monitored Lines

  36. CNN Breaking News Usually Sucks

  37. The Working Military Spouse

  38. The Great Commissary Shopping Cart Derby

  39. Long-Distance Parenting: Just Say No

  40. Top Ten Things Not to Say to a Military Spouse

  41. Gifts from Foreign Lands

  42. Our Heroine Admits She’s Not Super Woman

  43. Top Ten Things a Military Spouse Wants to Hear

  44. Over the Hump: Planning a Visit

  45. Seattle to Tokyo: Two Kids, Three Bags, And Four Hundred Tylenol

  46. Jet Lag and Jelly Beans

  47. Flag Waving, Writing, and Other Skills

  48. Family, Friends, and Other Lifelines

  49. Our Daughter the Bag Lady

  50. Dear Military Spouse: Official Appreciation

  51. Holidays: Second Deployment

  52. Homecoming

  53. Epilogue, 2002

  54. Dear Reader

  55. Thank you!

  Books by Alyssa

  About the Author

  Introduction

  To: My Readers

  From: Alesia

  Subject: Welcome to the world of military families!

  You'd think I would have known better. I grew up as an Air Force brat—thirteen different schools by the time I graduated from high school. My mom used to say we should strap roller skates on the bottom of the couch, to make moving easier.

  But then I met Judd and common sense flew out the window, as it tends to do when love gets involved. Before I knew it, I was saying yes to a wonderful man and life in the U.S. Navy.

  Twenty-three years, eight moves, including one international move, and two children later, I can honestly say it's never been dull!

  I first thought of writing eMail when Judd was on deployment post-September 11, 2001. His squadron had been slated for a routine deployment to Japan, but the terrorist attacks on New York and DC changed everything. I knew he and his crew were flying missions over Afghanistan, and I was scared. One day, I found a computer file I had created after his previous deployment to the Middle East. It contained copies of all the e-mails we had sent back and forth during the long six months of absence. Reading back over them, I was surprised at how funny and poignant some of them were.

  Like so many others, I was taking stock of my life in light of the tragedy our country had just endured. My children were happy and healthy; I had a good job, good friends, and a close family. All in all, I felt pretty lucky. But I hadn't done anything that would contribute to society on a large scale. Suddenly, that seemed very important to me. These circumstances came together in my mind over a period of several weeks and the idea for E-mail formed. It would be a book that could answer the questions everyone at work and all my nonmilitary friends asked: How do you do it? Move across the country with two young children, only to have your husband leave you for six months? Not know where he is, or if he's safe?

  At the same time, I wanted the book to share a message of caring and hope with military spouses everywhere and with everyone who has ever juggled parenting, work, and overscheduled lives.

  So I shared some of our e-mails, hoping that they will help you understand what the lives of military families can be like. (Of course, I know most military spouses out there are a lot more competent, organized, and on top of things than I've ever been.)

  After E-mail To The Front was first published in the spring of 2003, the barrage of letters and emails began. Hundreds, and then thousands, of military family members--and civilian folks, too--wrote to me to thank me for being honest about how hard military life can be. There are rewards, of course, and there is so much pride. But there are many challenges, too, especially at war time.

  Especially during war time, and we've had so much of that over the past decade.

  So I knew, now that publishing technology has advanced so much, that I wanted to make this book available to a whole new generation of military families. So many of you have endured so very much during our conflicts in Afghanistan and Iraq. I still watch CNN in the middle of the night, and I still cry and pray right along with every one of you.

  That's what military families do--and I'm still proud to be part of one.

  I hope my book makes you laugh some, and maybe cry a little, too. Because tears are necessary, but laughter is what helps us survive.

  Thank you for reading this book. If it gives you insight into the lives of military families, please say thank you to one. We make these sacrifices out of love for our spouses, our country, and the American people.

  Alesia Holliday, October, 2002 to October, 2018

  Seattle, WA, to Jacksonville, FL, with stops in Virginia & Japan.

  Glossary of Military and Navy Jargon

  BOQ—Bachelor Officers' Quarters

  CAC—Combat Air Crew, a P-3's crew; works together throughout deployment.

  CO—Commanding Officer, the head of a squadron

  CDR—Commander, a naval rank (0-5)

  Deployment—A period of time during which a squadron is sent away to serve in foreign lands or seas

  Detailer—A person assigned to match job needs in the Nav
y with the people who fill them. (Detailers are the people who decide who gets stationed, or assigned, where and when.)

  DOD—Department of Defense

  OSC—Officers' Spouses' Club, a social organization for military spouses. There are also Enlisted Spouses' Clubs.

  Prowler—A variant of the A-6 Intruder, an all-weather attack airplane of the 1960s and 1970s. The EA-6B operates from land or an aircraft carrier, is specifically designed for electronic attack, and is used to disrupt and disable enemy air defense. The normal crew consists of four members with various duties.

  P-3 Orion—Land-based, turbo-prop aircraft originally designed for maritime patrol and antisubmarine warfare. Based on a commercial plane, the Lockheed Electra, the P-3 entered Navy service in 1963. Production of the aircraft stopped in the late 1980s, and no replacement currently exists. The normal crew consisted of eleven members with various duties. (Judd's plane, now replaced by the P-8.)

  Ready, or The Ready—Designates a crew and an aircraft to be on short notice standby to support a particular mission, usually Search and Rescue. The crew is often required to remain together and/or in their quarters for the duration of their Ready status.

  SNAFU—Situation Normal, All Fouled Up

  Squadron—A unit of organization in naval aviation. A Patrol Squadron consists of nine or ten aircraft and approximately four hundred personnel. The P-3 squadron is a subunit of a Patrol Wing, which consists of three Patrol Squadrons under the administrative command of a Navy Captain given the title Commodore.

  Squids—A slang term for ship sailors or Navy personnel in general, usually used only by fellow squids

  Standing Duty—Periodically an aircrew is required to perform the administrative functions for the Squadron. These usually consist of twenty-four-hour watches as Squadron Duty Officer (SDO) or Assistant SDO. The SDO is tasked with the day-to-day administrative functions and with ensuring that the CO is kept apprised of current aircraft and aircrew status.

  VADM—Vice Admiral, a naval rank (0-9)

  VP-40—Judd's squadron on Whidbey Island, Washington.

  XO—Executive Officer, the second-in-command in a squadron

  I wasn’t ready…

  If you marry someone in the military, you have to be ready for anything. After four years, three states, and two children, I thought I was. Then came deployment.

  1

  It’s Not Just a Marriage, It’s an Adventure

  May

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: You're gone even though you're still here.

  I think I'm having some kind of weird culture shock. Oak Harbor is so very much a Navy town. The base is the center of everything, and there are Navy people everywhere. Driving through town today, I passed signs and banners saying good-bye to you-BE SAFE, VP-40 FIGHTING MARLINS-and hello to the returning squadron.

  I am e-mailing you even though you haven't left yet, because I never see you when you're awake. This pre-deployment workup stuff is pretty intense. I'm not sure I would have moved here with you from Florida, if I'd known I'd never see you. I can't believe you had to work the day the movers brought our furniture and our household goods. You can imagine how much fun it was trying to keep Connor occupied, breast-feed Lauren under a blanket in the driveway, and direct the movers to which room to put what box in, all at the same time.

  This takes "multitasking" to a whole new level.

  p.s. I saw a coyote. IN OUR YARD.

  I truly believe that one of the detailers has a really sick sense of humor. This is the detailer who always gets Judd's name, of course.

  For example, our first Navy move as a married couple was from Columbus, Ohio, to Pensacola, Florida, when I was seven months pregnant and about the same size as an average battleship. So we settled in to life in Pensacola, where all the Navy's flight training goes on.

  I say "settled in" as a shorthand for: Judd performed bizarre rituals like: sitting in a room and playing games while all the oxygen was sucked out of the room, and escaping from a helicopter into which he was strapped, blindfolded, at the bottom of a pool. On purpose. Meanwhile, I had the excitement of fire-breathing indigestion and my skeleton literally coming unglued that only the eight- and nine-months pregnant woman can really appreciate.

  For the first time in my life, I had no job, no friends nearby, and I lived more than an easy day's drive from my family. I was miserable for a while. Then, as it generally does, life got better and Pensacola was a pretty wonderful few years.

  Enter Evil Detailer again. "Hey, she's pregnant. We need to make them move, quick!"

  Our second move, after some "split living"—Judd moved to Texas and then Jacksonville, Florida, for different schools and training, while I stayed in Pensacola with Connor, and we visited every weekend (except during the hurricanes)—was from Florida to Washington State. About as far across the country as you can get.

  This time, we had a two-and-a-half-year-old who was only a few weeks out of diapers and a three-and-a-half-week-old infant. So, naturally, we decided to drive across the country.

  With the children.

  In two separate cars.

  In hindsight, it wasn't our smartest idea. It took seven ten-hour days to make that trip, and it was the longest week of my life. Crossing Oklahoma took about three years. We had to stop at least seventy-nine times a day. We would just get started and Connor would say, "I have to go potty. Now." You don't tell a two-year-old to hold it. So we would stop at a rest stop, take him potty, get snacks from the vending machine, and start off again.

  Five miles later, the baby would wake up and howl to be breastfed. Babies aren't really known for their patience, either. Especially not Lauren. She's a feed me now kind of girl. So we stopped again, nursed the baby (I nursed the baby, actually; Judd refused to help at all), made Connor go potty (just in case), and started up again.

  Ten miles later, one of us would need to get gas.

  Picture this continuing for 3,500 miles.

  If I don't make it to Heaven when I die, I know I'll wake up back on that road trip. We tried everything. We tried to synchronize Connor's naptimes with the baby's. (Ha!) We tried coordinating gas fill-ups, but the cars used fuel at different rates just to spite us.

  My sweet sister-in-law, Megan, had volunteered to help us drive. (She's single with no kids; poor thing didn't know any better.) Two years later, she still hasn't recovered.

  While Megan drove my car, I tried to figure out how to breastfeed while I was still seatbelted and Lauren was in her car seat. Trust me, you'd need six-foot-long breasts and a time-out from the laws of physics for that one to work. So, we stopped.

  And we stopped.

  And we stopped.

  Finally, we reached our new home on Whidbey Island. Sort of. We needed to find a house to rent, so we spent about six weeks in a tiny motel where the heat didn't work properly. We slept in the Sahara, but went to the bathroom in Siberia.

  In my sleep-deprived haze, I kept muttering things like, "I didn't sign up for this. I never went to boot camp. I didn't sign on any dotted line. I didn't enlist. I never wanted to Be All That I Could Be. I don't Aim High."

  Judd just smiled, waved our marriage license and the kids' birth certificates in front of my bloodshot eyes, and said quietly, "It's Not Just a Marriage, It's an Adventure."

  I hate people who have to have the last word.

  2

  Departure: Only 183 Days to Go

  June

  To: Judd

  From: Alesia

  Subject: Thank you for the flowers, you stinker!!

  Some beautiful yellow roses were delivered to the house when I was outside painting this afternoon—you wouldn't know anything about that, would you? I love you, silly man.

  Everybody keeps calling me to see if I'm OK. It's funny, but I'm just fine. I guess I'm so used to our commuter lifestyle that it doesn't feel out of the ordinary to have you gone for a couple of days. I figure at about three weeks it'll hit me ha
rd, and I'll fall apart. We painted and played outside and read a zillion books. It was a pretty great day, other than the fact you weren't here to share it (which is big). Connor asked me at bedtime where you were; he wanted you to read him some books. I explained again, and we watched the video of you reading a story. He seemed OK with it.

  To: Alesia

  From: Judd

  Subject: re: Thank you

  Hi, sweetie. I've had a lot of difficulties finding a phone to call you on in Atsugi. I didn't get a chance to go into Tokyo. My buddy Andy Perez didn't get his bags back from the plane until late, so we just sat in the BOQ and watched rugby. I'm glad you got and enjoyed the flowers! I love you very much! We will be leaving here in a few hours and going to Kadena, Japan, which is on the island of Okinawa. From there, we go to Utapao, Thailand. Not too much jet lag. Please hug and kiss the kids for me. I suppose you can pet the dog, too. I love you!!