Strength

I was so surprised...I've learned a different definition of strength. Also, I'm super philosophical. Sorry 'bout that.

As some (maybe most?) of you know, my husband has been gone for training a whole lot lately. His unit is getting prepared for probably--though also possibly not--deploying to Afghanistan for a year--though maybe 9 months, or possibly 15 months--sometime in October--though it was originally  November, but it could be September, or maybe November, but probably October. Oh, I'm sorry, did that confuse you? No, no, it's okay. That's the army. haha

Anyway, I'm not here to rant about the uncertainty of army life. Back to my original point: Russ has been gone for training a lot lately, and will be gone another significant amount of time coming up.

Now, in the grand scheme of things, I know that a few weeks without each here and there is not that big a deal. We've got years and years to be together--and, as we've said, we'll spend every minute together someday, and be completely annoyed with one another, but absolutely happy despite it--so why should such (comparatively) little time apart be so bad?

I know this. I know I have to suck it up and it'll all be fine in the end. And I know that we're going to have a longer, less certain length of time apart. But it's hard, guys.

It's hard going from spending, at the very least, every night together, and every weekend on the couch, cuddled up, watching our shows or some movie, to sitting alone on that same couch watching Teen Mom or HGTV. Knowing that he won't be coming home tonight, that one side of the bed will be cold.

It's hard. And I won't lie, I've been having a harder time of it this time around. If you can't tell. haha (I promise, I'm not as mopey and depressing as I sound right now--I just wanted to get this out for you and for myself.)

Anyway, getting to the whole point of this post: I always knew that I was a strong person--not so much physically, but emotionally. For whatever reason, I just knew that I could handle things well, and that I would be strong.

But I used to think that strength meant holding those difficult feelings inside, pretending they didn't exist and making sure everyone knew you were totally fine with everything. Pretending even to yourself that you were completely fine. I used to hold it all in, and cry silently to myself when I knew no one would hear me and know that I do cry. (And I'm not talking about crying because someone died in a movie or because my dance teacher told me to fix something--because anyone who's been around me for minor things like that knows I'm totally a crier for those things, and I even cry when I see other people cry. I'm one of those people. haha) I'm talking about loneliness or frustration or hopelessness or just utter sadness--those were the things I hid from people. I hid those things from myself. I tried to keep myself from even feeling those emotions.

And I told myself that was strength--not letting people see you hurt. Not letting myself hurt. Just pretending I didn't have those feelings, because I was the strong one--the one people could turn to for everything.

But being with Russell has let me open myself to those harsher emotions. Slowly, I've had to let go of that "strength" and just admit that I am human. If I wanted to let love through--and man, do I love love--I had to let the other big emotions through. I've finally allowed myself to unload everything from my mind, admitting I feel it, and even to share it with someone else. Letting someone else take the load and tell me it'll all be okay.

And I think that's real emotional strength--admitting you hurt or are sad or lonely, and pushing through it instead of ignoring it. It's probably why they say, "admitting you have a problem is the first step to resolving it," or however it goes. Because when you're ignoring that you're sad, it's hard to get over that sadness. You're not really being "strong;" you're pretending that you're strong.

I'm sad. It's true. I miss my husband, and I wish he could be home with me. And I've been sad lately, but I feel so much better for being able to admit it. It doesn't mean that now I just complain about the things that make me sad, or cry any time Russell texts me. It means that I feel the sadness, and I understand it, and I accept it, and I can push past it.

And now when I hear Russell tell me I'm strong or how glad he is that he can depend on my strength, I can actually appreciate the word, and admit that I am a strong person now. That I can handle all the stresses of being an army wife.

And, of course, it doesn't hurt that I'm madly, madly in love with my husband. I cannot stress enough how easy it makes things to know that there is nothing to question about our relationship. I actually was telling Russ tonight, and I quote, "There's nothing I'm more sure of in this world [than our love], and nothing I ever have been so sure of." Don't call me cheesy. haha I know it is, but it's completely the truth. There's just something so easy about it, and knowing there's one less thing in this world I need to worry about is so freeing.

Handling the stress and sadness of being away from each other becomes a breeze. Because instead of worrying about the toll the absence will take on our relationship, we're simply concerned with how much longer we have until we're back in each others' arms. It's...well...It's not wonderful, because I'd rather not have to be away...But, it's our life. And once we get through these trying times, we have a whole lifetime ahead of us to be together every day of every week. Or at least most of them. :]

Sorry you suffered through so much babble! Have a nice picture of Russ and me after the Kentucky Derby!

<3

Mushy, Mushy, Love Story

I was so surprised...I found the man of my dreams.

So I know that almost all of you have heard the story, that most of you have heard it way too many times, and that some of you didn't even care the first time. Well, I'm not writing this for you. I'm writing this for me, and for Russell, and for our children (when we have them--and when they're old enough to ask). :]

Russ and I met on a night on which I wasnt supposed to be out.

Well, I clearly was supposed to be out, but I wasn't going to be. My roommate Caroline and I had just come back from a concert that the All-American Rejects had put on for NAU. I desperately wanted to go downtown to the bars to see if we could spot the band, but Caroline was skeptical. I later learned that it wouldn't have taken much convincing to get her out, but I felt silly asking her again, since she'd just explained how unlikely it was that we'd see them...

So I enlisted the help of my little--Emma. She'd been asking to go to the bars with us, and I knew she'd help me out with my problem. It didn't take much persuasion to convince her to pretend it was her idea to go downtown.

So, armed with the "fact" that my little wanted us to go out, I convinced Caroline to go out with us.

We went straight for our favorite bar--Maloney's--and grabbed a booth next to some rowdy strangers, watching a couple guys run around the bar in competition. After a victor was announced, and about halfway through my tequila sunrise, the winner himself walked by our table on the way to the bathroom.

Now, as he was not-half-bad looking, and as I had already caught his eye, I threw him a grin, and was rewarded with a wink.

I turned to my friends--I'd never been winked at before! Did that guy really do that?--And before I knew it, the guy was squeezing into our booth next to Caroline.

The four of us chatted, and the charmer--turns out his name was Russell--dazzled us with his surprisingly accurate drunk memory, reciting our favorite colors, music, hometowns, majors, etc. for us.

There was just something about him.

By this time, his friends had sort of joined us, and we'd talked for hours, and it was closing time too soon. We all shuffled out the door, and still this guy hadnt asked for a number! We split into our separate groups, saying awkward goodbyes and "nice to meet you"s, and I knew I had to do something. When would I see this random guy again otherwise?

Maybe it was the tequila shots, maybe it was just something in me that recognized him. Whatever it was, a strange boldness swept through me and I cooly stepped up beside him, handing him my phone with his name typed out as a new contact. "Is this how you spell it?" I asked.

"Yes," he replied...And then he got it. "Oh! You want my number?"

Duh.

He texted me that night (or early morning, really), asked me on a date for that week.

We dated that April, May. I went to Hawaii with Russ and his family after graduation--where I totally fell in love with them. I stayed in Arizona for my mom's wedding, and joined him in Oklahoma days later.

We fell in love quickly, and I think we both just kind of knew. We'd found the one. And it was easy. It wasnt perfect, but it was easy.

We were engaged that August--a whopping four months into our relationship. Russell took me to a jewelry store, claiming that he wanted to get his sister a watch for her birthday. Being that I'd only been with my boyfriend for four months at this time, I tried really hard to believe that was the reason. You just can't go into it thinking he's scoping out a ring for you that soon!

Well, "maybe a ring would be good for her." So Russ began wandering past the rings, and I looked up and down for a ring that might be appropriate to give to his sister--weird, but possibly manageable, I thought. And then he wandered to the engagement rings. The jeweler whispered to me, "He's looking at the fun ones now!" and I chuckled nervously--I knew what those rings were.

When the jeweler insisted I try on a ring that had caught my eye--even though I tried desperately to remain unbiased and kept saying, "I don't know if she would like this, but I think it's nice."--I tried to give him my right hand. Really, the man did not make this easy.

"No, your other hand," he grinned. I'm pretty sure I was shaking with nerves and awkwardness. Here we are, with this jeweler trying to pressure my boyfriend of four months into buying me an engagement ring, and I have to go along with it. I took that thing off as quick as I could (though it was very pretty).

After dropping me back at home, Russ went to "study with the other guys" for about an hour, and we later sat on our apartment floor, drinking wine and putting together a puzzle. Russ seemed a little on edge, but I ignored it. Until he suddenly jumped up, looking out the window.

"The sky's clear tonight, do you wanna go star gazing?" He knows I love looking at the stars--especially since I point Orion out to him pretty much every night--and we had planned to go the next day. But I was up for it--plus I was so confused by his demeanor.

We drove out to the Wildlife Preserve, where he proceeded to try desperately to get us up Mount Scott. "It just would be a really cool way to look at the stars!" But, alas, the gate was locked tight, and I was not willing to hike up a small mountain in the dark.

Disappointed, Russ finally pulled over, and we turned our gazes to the stars. Or, I did, at least. Immediately, I began pointing out the constellations I knew, spouting out the meaning behind more. I glanced to where Russ had been standing, and found him on one knee.


Shocked, I have no idea what Russell then said to me, and I literally only remember, "Will you marry me?" I stared at him, seriously contemplating my answer. I knew I loved him, and that we were gonna end up married anyway, but was it too soon? Could I pull the trigger?

Finally, I decided. "Sure, yes, yes, of course!" I stammered out (which I will never be allowed to forget). And it was such a sweet moment. My heart was bursting with joy.

I found out in the car, when I called my mom to tell her the news, that Russ had asked her for permission to marry me. It was the most wonderful surprise.

We were married three months later in the most beautiful ceremony, with the most fun and wonderful reception under the beautiful Arizona sunset. The day was perfect and so full of love.

And now it's been nearly four months since then. We've moved across the US, gotten a puppy, made new friends, started new careers, made a home together. And it's been good. Really good. I know I'm an absolute romantic at heart, but I'm surprisingly not that good with really mushy stuff, but I'll say it--life is beautiful. Our life is beautiful.

Sure, we're learning how to be adults, and how to be married, and how to be who we need to be and what we need to do, but I would not trade any one second of this life for anything.

I've found--finally--where I really belong. And it's in his arms. And that is beautiful.

Thus ends the mush. :] Thanks for bearing with me through it. I hope it was worth the read to you, but if not, well, I already warned you! haha This is for me. Because even though these are wonderful memories, I know my capacity for memory, and I don't want to forget any of it. :]

Can't Stop, Won't Stop

I was so surprised...I've become one of those girls.

I remember a time when I lived in Flagstaff, stayed in my room any time I could avoid going outside, and only longed for life as a married woman, with a house and a cat. (I know, I never wanted the puppy, and I've been proven wrong...I get it.)

How was I able to entertain myself for such long periods of time in such a small space (and anyone who's seen the rooms in Mountain View knows just how small a space)? I would go forever, playing the Sims, reading, writing, watching shows, or something. How?

Now I live in this nice, big house, and I can't seem to keep myself entertained anymore. I have this cute, little puppy who demands my attention all the time, and all the time in the world to hone my craft, and yet, nothing. There's no motivation to play the Sims, to write, to watch shows, to read. Nothing.

I think this whole having-a-husband thing has ruined my capacity for self-entertainment. I think I'm stuck now basically counting down the hours til he comes home to me. Terrible. I'm a woman who now waits for a man to entertain her.

Not that he's particularly entertaining either, but there's just something different about having someone to spend that boring time with, I think.

I know Russ has only been in the field for the week, but it seems to take forever when you don't have anything in particular to keep you busy. Now, you all know that I've been keeping sort of busy doing projects for the house, but that can only go so far...

Luckily, I got the job at the Child and Youth Services, sooo I'm working on getting all the paperwork and clearances and things so I can get working as soon as possible. Then, time with Russ out of the house won't seem so bad!

However, don't think I'm floundering already, guys! I'm perfectly capable of living alone and surviving and not going crazy, I promise. This is just a little observation I've made. So don't worry about me. :]

Another thing I've noticed: even after living in Flag for 4 years, and surviving my first Northern New York winter, I still love the snow. :] It's freezing, but gorgeous here. I've met some wonderful people  that I can't wait to get to know better. I've got two adorable, little baby animals that I love to death. A beautiful house that someone my age probably shouldn't have. And a husband I am totally crazy about.

So yeah, I love my life. And I love my life here. It's amazing.

Puppy Blues

I was so surprised...That I'm not surprised...Just, raising a dog is annoying.

This adorable, little dude's name is Clover.

Well, friends, it's been a while since I've written anything for you, and I know you're all just weeping knowing life is going on over here and you don't know about it. And I'm sorry for making you cry. I just have...really not been busy enough to use it as an excuse. I'm lazy. Sorry.

Anyway, since I last posted, we've gotten our house, FINALLY gotten our furniture (after 3 weeks of waiting, calling and accidentally frustrated-crying at the guy and getting us a $50 gift card for our troubles). Oh, and we got a puppy.

As you can see, he's just adorable. He likes playing in the snow or grass (but snow's better), snuggling, new people and dogs, chewing things (especially paper and mom's...ahem, delicates), playing with/chewing on the cat, piña coladas, gettin' caught in the rain, and sneakily peeing on the carpet.

But look how cute I am, Mom!

Yes, a couple of those are just not very fun. We crate-trained him while we were still staying at the Fort Drum Inn (Sorry, neighbors!), so he's become really good at even just walking into his crate when we tell him, most of the time. Especially now that we've upgraded him to sleeping in our room at night and being crated just generally in the laundry room while we're gone. He does great with that, sleeping through the night and not peeing until Russ gets up and takes him out most days, and never peeing or pooping in the laundry room. He listens very well when we tell him "no," or just call his name. And he generally stops the behaviors we scold him for.

Damn these sweet animals.

However, we've hit what I'm deeming the terrible twos, because, despite having been almost fully potty trained, he's resorted lately to peeing on the carpet again. Ugh.

 The worst part is not disciplining him, because Russell and I are really good at being consistent. The problem comes when he just looks up at me. You see that face--he's so charming! And it's even harder to be mad at him when he comes scampering in from outside, snow all around his snout because he's weird and loves to sniff it. If I had a picture of it, I would show you, because it's so cute, but I don't.

Oh, and, he has vivid dreams all the time. It's hilarious.

The dog's kind of obnoxious. But he is very well-behaved, for the most part, and he's stolen my heart.