You really don’t have to be a cool military wife

You really don’t.

There’s no rule saying you have to suck it up and smile sweetly when they tell you they are missing your anniversary.

You can be annoyed, and rightly so,  you can be hurt, you can be miffed and vexed and whatever-the-hell-you-need-to-feel when they “forget” to tell you they are duty weekend until 4pm on a Friday. 

Sometimes we military wives need a little reality check.


It is fine to be pissed off when your partner cancels plans. Even if the reason for this cancelled plans is some MOD top priority mission. It’s fine.

It’s normal to be slightly vexed at having to switch Friday night plans from romantic dinner then bars then casino to dominoes and a bottle of red for one in your pjs at 45 minutes notice.

It’s understandable to not be cheerful and jolly ho and well wishing, when calling up the travel agent and praying with crossed fingers, that you can rebook the holiday you’ve saved a whole year for.

It is healthy to feel the rage at these times. It would be bizarre if you didn’t. And if it didn’t you might start doing weird passive aggressive things like deliberately putting gone off milk in his tea before he leaves, or “accidentally”‘deleting all the game of thrones on the sky planner. Or you might take it out on the BBKB  (Big Black Kit Bag) in a barely contained fit of rage.

Although it might make you feel better in the short term it won’t for long.

So please please ladies, don’t try to hold it together. When you feel pissed off, be pissed off

Get vocal, get sweary, hang up on them if you need to. Cry if you need to.

Just don’t for Petes sake, bottle it all up. 

Because at the end of the day, whether you lose the plot and let him have it both barrels, or you suppress it with your best stepford wife smile, the shits still going to hit you just the same. 

At least this way you will deal with it in a way that it healthy for you. Because sadly the shits going to hit that military  relationship fan again and again. And yes as time goes on you will get used to it in a way- but that doesn’t mean the shit doesn’t still stink. 

Shout it loud and shout it proud ladies- but only if you want to.

Muchos love,

Olive x 

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I’ve broken a cardinal rule of navy wifedom

I’ve broken one of the cardinal rules of navywifedom.

I’ve booked a holiday for when the ships due back.


Oh yes. 

And it gets worse.

Ive booked it for the day the ship gets back.

Because it’s my birthday that day. 

I’m a total plonker. 

It’s my birthday the day the ships back and it’s a significant number (30 ahem, I mean 21) and I’ve booked up a wholesome weekend in Centre Parcs. 


(*waves at sniggering mumsnetters*).

So of course now I’ve cursed it. I’ve cursed my birthday, and homecoming and everything.

What the actual fuck was I thinking?!?!?!?! 

Have my years as a military wife and prior to that, girlfriend, taught me nothing?!

Am I having some kind of delusional break?! Have I lost my grip on reality?!?!?!?

Of course now the homecoming date will change.

There literally is no point to this post apart from me 

  1. Freaking out about my (21st) birthday
  2. Freaking out about having to see popeye and wear a bikini around him straight away.
  3. Going on holiday with a man I haven’t seen in almost a year with two toddlers
  4. The navy fucking up my (poorly laid) plans.
  5. The actual logistics of sorting the house/kids/myself out, going to homecoming, turning around and bombing it down the A303

This will not be me.
What I wanted was a lovely birthday and holiday with Popeye.

To be honest I was a little miffed that my birthday was going to be all about him. 

What do you think? Am I being totally naive or am I engaging in some weird birthday self sabotage?

Discuss.

P.s if you get the MN and centre parcs reference, don’t jump to conclusions, get your mind out the gutter.
<update> of course something did go wrong and yes I did have to rebook the flipping holiday. I can hear the “I told you so’s” from here. Muchos love x 

The Big Black Kit Bag and me.

You will all know about The Big Black Kit Bag. That HUGE bag with a zillion handles and really useful pockets all around the outside. And it has like the hugest, strongest, chunkiest zip that can do up no matter how many pairs of shoes you squeeze into it.

  
It’s usually used for carrying all of Popeyes belongings to and from the ship or everything we need for going on a family holiday or for hiding Christmas presents. Very useful.  Also very annoying.

It is also called the “Kit Bag”, a “Pussers Grip” (apparently) and “That fucking bag” or “that stupid thing” (usually precluded by me tripping over it and shouting “Popeye MOVE that fucking bag/stupid thing”- for a little context). 

I have a very messed up relationship with this bag. In fact I can go so far to say that it is by far the most complicated relationship I have with a bag. 

:-/

I LOVE the Big Black Kit Bag when I see Popeye emerging down the gangway in his civvys at homecoming with it slung over his shoulder.

I LOVE seeing the Big Black Kit Bag on the back seat of the car in the rear view mirror when we are driving home and getting the hell outta Pompey.
I LOVE the Big Black Kit Bag when it’s put down in the dining room or kitchen or hallway when he first gets home. 

During these times, when the BBKB catches my eye, I get a little “zing”, a little rush of happiness and adrenaline. “I love this baaaaaaag!!!!!!” I squeal in my head. I have to restrain myself from dive bombing it in a bear hug and getting into it. I probably would try to sleep in it if I could. (Aside: I can actually fit in it btw. Don’t try this at home etc, go out instead).

However,

I HATE the Big Black Kit Bag when it has been sitting in the dining room or kitchen or hallway for a good few days, or even over a week, getting in my way and generally spewing it’s contents out in every direction all over my/ our (super duper post-deployment tidied) house. I can only imagine Popeye does this because 

  1. He NEEDS his Xbox RIGHT NOW as a matter of life and death and had to grab it out of the BBKB in a nanosecond. 
  2. He feels the need to display all of his dirty kit and civvy clothes to me as either a subtle hint for me to wash it for him (not going to happen) or to show how very very hard he has worked. Poor lamb.
  3. Some kind of Tracy Emin “Unmade Bed” modern art tribute.
  4. To mess with my head and/or trip me up because he is jealous of my lovely toes and feet. 

The other time I HATE HATE HATE that bloody Big Black Kit Bag is when it’s on the bed. Being filled with clothes and books and stuff getting ready for a deployment.

I hate it then. It makes me cry. Seeing it get filled with stuff makes me loathe it because it means Popeye is going away.

I kick it off the bed. 

I do. I know it’s childish but I don’t care. I kick that monstrous thing off the bed onto the floor so Popeye has to repack. I do it every time he packs it. It’s like a compulsion.

So much so that last time he left he was so worried about what I’d do (post baby hormonal Olive is apparently v v scary) he packed secretly so I couldn’t kick the bag over. 

I also hide things he has packed and tip it out onto the floor. I also hide the bag. 

Like that will stop him deploying. 

As I said, a very useful, practical kit bag. I just wish I didn’t have to see it about 50% of the time. It’s a weird coincidence that those times are when Popeye is leaving or the homecoming excitement has worn off.

Yes. Just a coincidence. Sure Olive, sure. 

Muchos love, 

Olive.