It's a nice, calm morning...for some reason the kids are all very chilled out today and not wild-n-crazy like they usually are. I'm so ready for Logan to be home...I'm tired of being worried all the time. Those in his chain of command were going to transfer him to the Flight Deck shop, and after the accident this weekend, I'd rather him work in the burn room for the trash than work on the flight deck. I don't want any chance of him getting hurt.
There seems to be a lot of deaths on the Eisenhower in the past couple of years. I'm not trying to say anything negative, it just seems strange and is very nerve-wracking for those of us who have a loved one on that ship!! I try to stay positive, but when something like this happens it's very difficult to not imagine the possibilities of danger. My husband works with bombs!! If that's not enough to worry about, now they want to put him on the flight deck + bombs. I think I'll have a nervous breakdown!
I've heard a lot of negative comments about Navy wives lately, and let me tell you, this is one of the hardest roles to play in life. Military wife, police officer or fireman's wife, all of us have to go about our daily lives and maintain a sense of normalcy for the sake of our children; we have to play Mommy and Daddy, do the cooking, cleaning, yardwork, mechanical maintenance on vehicles, clean the gutters, do it all and still smile and pretend we're not worried to death every moment of every day. And then something like this happens and our facades crack for just a moment and we allow ourselves to call the ship's careline, to email everyone we know, to find the name of that poor sailor and then guiltily breathe a sigh of relief when it's not our husband. Only to immediately be overwhelmed with sorrow for his wife, pregnant with their third child and left to be the permanent deployment wife: taking care of her children alone while her husband is forever lost to the seas.
When I served in the Navy, I frequently felt our isolation and the extent to which we were at the mercy of the sea. Should the winds shift, a plane's propellor catch a draft, an airman take a step forward when it should have been backwards... as we floated out there with no land in sight, a self-sustaining mechanical island with the capability of a small city, small airport, and full battalion, the leer of death was around every ocean swell and in every churning thunderhead. From time to time, Davy Jones rises to remind us all of the danger of our jobs in the Navy; even the most routine underway can turn into tragedy.
On to brighter news: John is cutting another tooth and has grown at least a couple of inches... he's going to be very tall, I think...he's all legs with a big head (like an orange on a toothpick...ten bucks to whomever can name that movie!). Callie's tall for her age, too...must be what I'm feeding them :). Well, now John's staring at me and intermittenly screaming and laughing, so I think he wants me to play.
No comments:
Post a Comment