This is where you insert Murphy's Deployment Law. If and when something bad is to occur it only shall occur after your husband leaves for a deployment. That time during and in between deployments and or training courses when your spouse is home nothing will happen that will require a man or repair man to come to your rescue.
Toilets will break, washers will stop working, your pets will get sick, family members will kick the bucket(no one has yet this time, thankfully), outdoor outlets will cease to work, lawn mowers will not mow and last but not least, your garage door will jump track and not budge like it did today.
Lets not even start on how many smoke detectors and light bulbs, 20 feet high, will burn out just to slap you in the face. Or leave you waking up in the middle of the night to drag a 12 foot ladder in from the garage to stop the beeping. Only when he leaves. The very moment he walks out the door and gets on that bus shit is going to start breaking in your house. You are warned virgin spouses. All of these things have happened to me on this deployment alone in the past 4 months. I can't help but laugh at the fact that Mr. Murphy is up to his old tricks again. I think it's cool he is keeping me on my toes and off my potentially, large ice cream for dinner eating through my emotions booty.
NO Jennifer. I am right there with ya.
I consider myself to be pretty handy around the house when it comes to fixing or "half assing" it if you will. Because lord only knows that everything will not start breaking until right after your warranty is expired. Your good. Your good. Husband is gone. Your good. Warrenty is expired. Ok, I am breaking. Lets see if I can make her cry or be hospitalized from alcohol poisoning. Nope not happening over here Murphy. Crying is only related to infertility 99.9% of the time.
Many times you will have to cave and call the repair man. Unfortunately as of yet, none of my repairmen have been an extra in Magic Mike or I wouldn't even break out the hammer, ladder, screw driver or wrench. Speed dial.
Only kidding, have you seen my husband...yes mam..Magic who?..this guy and his abs for days. Its been a long four months,sorry people, just saying. Staring at a shirtless Magic Mike repair man wouldn't hurt anyone. Right? Right. Deep breaths. 1..2..3..4....
I have to add in here about my visit to the post office. I will try to make it short and sweet. It ended in tears. Not Murphy's Law tears but happy tears. It made the garage door incident laughable. I went in to mail my "TTC exchange package." On Instagram our private little TTC community participates in care package exchanges anonymously to each other every few months all set up and coordinated by my lovely amazing gal pal Chelsea! So of course I did not have just one package this time, I had five. I think I came across pretty clear on how much I love and adore my IG(instagram) infertility sisters and well some of us have become literally like support sisters. They always know what to say, when to say it and most of the time have already been through it. So, my postmaster(such a jokester) broad, tall, older black gentleman with a very deep voice; to add a face to my story, had me in tears. I am in there once a week. Minimum. And lets just say I live in a tiny little town, so he knows the routine. Package for my husband and tons of random packages for woman all across the US today. The Post Office was empty today at the time and we were carrying on causal conversation about the public shooting today at the Walmart I was just at a few days before. We decided people are just plain crazy and need God in their lives. Then when I began to explain that the small package was just dog treats and BBQ sauce, because he asked if anything was perishable. He then asked if the dog usually like mild or honey bbq sauce. I laughed and then tried to explain how I forgot to put those in my other package yesterday. He commented on how the others were going every which way across the map, FL, NY, GA and MN. I smiled and mumbled "yea, they are for my support sisters."
"Wait, what? Idiot...Oh geez....Try to think of something to cover that up....uhh....ummm..before.........He leaned in and asked very polietly and quietly, "May I ask what kind of support?"
Now at this point in my journey I have become very open about my infertility to people that I can trust, including my sweet postman. Heck, I didn't want him thinking I was a crack whore in recovery while her husband is at war. So I spit it out.
"Infertility."
I think my eyes started watering for some reason already at that point. He finished labeling my 30 packages and reached out his giant hand. At first I was confused until he asked for mine. As we stood there in that post office he prayed out loud for my future children and my infertility and as his hand surrounded mine the tears streamed down my face. How could such a stranger of sorts move a person so much? We said our "Amen's" simultaneously and told him I would see him next week. He smiled and said ok. At that point if he would have felt it was appropriate he would have gave me a hug as well. I would have accepted. I brushed off my tears quickly before exiting and with my faith in humanity again restored and completely moved by the power of prayer.
As military spouses, we can all agree that “when it rains, it pours” and that philosophy definitely applies to every single deployment. It’s how we respond to them that ultimately determines how we let these potholes in the road affect us. Good luck ladies and just keep swimming.
And if a local semi-stranger asks for your hand and you feel comfortable, give him your hand. Not everyone is out shooting random people in Walmart parking lots for fun. Some people actually give a damn about others without asking for anything in return.
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