Blouse Sleeves and Uniforms

Yesterday my husband and I were watching an Army movie and my husband scoffed at the "dookie rolls" (a dookie roll being, of course, a poorly rolled sleeve that is round and bunched up instead of square and smooth).

I could not resist asking to be taught so my husband went upstairs and got his MarPat blouse of old and taught me how to roll a proper sleeve.

He did the right sleeve, I did the left. I'm pretty proud to say that my sleeve looked better than his!

Then, of course, my son was very curious as to what this new item of clothing was. He has never seen his Daddy in uniform. A sight that no human should have to go without seeing because my husband is one FINE looking individual in uniform. Well, he fine out of uniform but there's just something about that man in uniform.

I promise to stop drooling now.

At any rate, I now know how to roll a proper sleeve.

Mission accomplished.

And, speaking of uniforms, I'm going to have to pull out my little ruler and rehearse aligning chevrons properly on the collars of the blouse.

Back when my husband was still in I took great pride in the care of his uniforms. I would launder them, careful to remove the chevrons, take them out of the drier still ever so slightly damp and lay them flat so that they dried with crisp creases. Then, ever so carefully I would align the chevrons and put them back on. I also can't say how battered my poor fingers were after sewing name-tapes on by hand (NOT an easy task).

So, here's a note for any wannabes, wives or new Marines out there. Call your local dry-cleaners, tailors and seamstress shops and ask if they can/will put on the name-tapes. They can do it in about thirty seconds, while you wait and charge next to nothing (I paid $2 for both the trousers and the blouse tapes to be put on).

Just a tip.

Determined and Scared to Death

I wanted to join the military when I was a kid. I could give you a million reasons why it didn't happen but the long and short of it is that I chickened out. If I wanted it bad enough I could have had it but I took those excuses and ran with them and some of them were darned good excuses. I took the path of least resistance and while it has led me to many wonderful things in my life it has left me wondering "what if" and regretting that which I never did.

I went to college, got married, had a child, worked many interesting and wonderful jobs but the desire to serve never left me, not ever for a second. Neither has that desire faded but rather grown in its intensity until it is all that I can think about. I've tried to bury it with work. I've tried to live vicariously through my husband and his service. I've tried distracting myself with my son but in the end I have nothing left but the knowledge that I've not done what I was called to do a dozen years ago.

Life has a funny way of bringing opportunities around and this thing called life just walked up to me with a silver platter and said, "This is it. If you don't do it now you never will. Take this opportunity because I won't be coming back with it."

I talked to my husband and he promised to support me completely so I started looking around at the different branches of service and seeing recruiters. I have always had the utmost respect for Marines. Heck, I married one. Though my husband has been out for three years now he still has that espirit de Corps that is infectious. After spending ten years around Marines I know as much as I can know without being a Marine myself. I know the ranks and the MOS fields and structure. I know cutting scores, lingo, policies, history, etc, but still I didn't even consider the Marines until I realized that, while looking through some Air Force information, I was having to convert everything into Marine Corps terms to understand it.

It hit me. Why not the Marines? Why settle for another branch when you already love and know the Corps?

It fit and when I told my husband of my new plan he got a big grin on his face and immediately started giving me tips on surviving Boot Camp and making lists of things I'll have to know. He got out his Green Monster from Boot Camp and installed a pull-up bar in my office so I can work on my flexed-arm hangs. He has been geeking out about the idea of his wife becoming a Marine ever since.

But here I am, shaking like a leaf. This is where I chickened out so many times. At least three times in my past I looked into my military future and turned away. It's not fear of deployments or physical trials. I'm not afraid of being yelled at or anything the military can do to me. In truth, I'm not exactly sure what I'm afraid of.

When I went down to the Marine Corps Recruiting Office, the recruiter had me (like all potential recruits) arrange tiles with words like "physical fitness", "college benefits" and "Professional Development and Opportunities," on them in order of importance. It's a way to gauge why people are enlisting and if it is for the right reasons.

My top four were: "Courage, Poise and Self-Confidence," "Pride of Belonging," "Leadership and Management Skills" and "Professional Development and Opportunities."

When asked to explain why I chose those tiles I explained that my life has become stale and my skills are atrophying from lack of use. While perhaps I'm not completely void of the things listed on those tiles they are the things I want to develop in myself. I want--no, need--to make a change in my life that allows me to feel like I'm doing something and going somewhere.

Yes, I love my family and have gotten great satisfaction from being a wife and a mother but I know to many house-wives who, once their children are gone, go on to be bitter old hags because they never developed themselves professionally. Their sense of purpose began and ended with their children and once their children were gone they lost that purpose and it embittered and angered them even leaving them to resent the life they chose.

For me, it's not about the money or the benefits. I think I'd still do this even if I got payed a dollar a week. I want the challenge. I want to be pushed out of my comfort zone, broken down and built back up to something bigger and better than myself. I want to earn the title I've respected and loved for so long.

Upon sharing that with my husband he just laughed and said, "Then you chose the right branch."

I don't want to chicken out. I don't want to find an excuse not to do this no matter how hard a part of me is looking for one. This is my last opportunity and I don't want to waste it. I don't want to look at myself in the mirror ten years from now and find a coward staring back at me. I don't want to be afraid but I am.

Perhaps I'm afraid that I'm not doing this for the right reasons. Perhaps I'm afraid of what this will do to my family. Perhaps I'm afraid of how much I will miss my husband and my son. Maybe I'm afraid of the uncertainty of it all. Maybe I'm afraid I'll hate it. I know I'm afraid of failure.

I heard once that courage is not the absence of fear. It's being afraid and acting anyway.

I need a good dose of action.