Author: SammiSteeves

Pop and Lock, Mark!

Justin and I did a seriously grown up thing: we bought a house. It’s amazing to think we might actually be in ONE place for the rest of our lives–or at least longer than 3-6 years. This is not an adventure in homeownership.

We all drove down Thursday. Friday we closed on our new home. Sunday, Justin had to head back to Kentucky to meet and hang out with the movers, and to clean our house and turn it back over to housing. He’s pretty awesome, because I am the absolute worst when it comes to any of that stuff.

While Justin headed back to Kentucky in my van, I waited until way too late to take the kids to get food. I should probably mention that we bought a house in Alabama, but even though our phones and watches tell us we’re in central time, this place runs on Eastern. Which is not such a big deal, until it’s 6pm CST and you have to drive 30 minutes to get Taco Bell for your children. I’m awesome like that.

Fast forward this adventure to after we go through drive through. We’re driving down a major road that, 13 years ago, was not a place you’d want to be alone after dark. Today it’s much more pleasant, but I would still prefer to not be stranded anywhere after dark.

And then, BOOM. Oh crap. My tire definitely blew. I park in the entrance to the Dolly Madison Bakery. Which is nothing like the Ashley Madison website, even though that’s instantly where my head goes (but more like, if Dolly Parton ran a sex site: big boobs and big hair and a lot of “howdy y’all!”).

While I stare at the sign that says “no parking between the hours of 7pm-6am,” I debate over just driving the rest of the way home on this flat. But upon inspection, and a quick dose of reality (no, Sammi. Flat tires can not be driven on), I called AAA for the third time in 2 months. They basically know me know.

“Are you in a safe place?” Well, I’m parked in front of a sexy bakery run by buxom blondes, so, I guess?

And then, at 7:30pm, the young man informs me that someone from Pop-A-Lock will be out in about 30 minutes. This is when I realize that my current outfit consists of a T-shirt, no bra (which is hardly a big deal, since I don’t have the boobs to work at Dolly Madison), and booty shorts. I had been painting all day, and before I left the house I thought, “it isn’t like anyone is going to see me.” What a foolish thought to have. No wonder why my tire blew!

Technology is pretty awesome. Where you once had to sit and wait and wonder when AAA would arrive, now you get a text from Mark at Pop-A-Lock, with a GPS tracker, so you can stalk him all the way to your location. Which is honestly helpful, because when the minivan pulls up next to you and you think, “this guy must be lost,” your GPS tracker points out that Mark is sitting 5 feet to your left.

Now, while keeping my Mom informed of everything going on (Justin was driving, and I try to limit texts to him while he drives, because I can be a bit of an obnoxious texter), she informs me that she thought my reference to Mark’s pop-a-lock shirt was some type of hip hop: pop and lock. Honestly, when things this ridiculous happen, you have to laugh. A lot. On the side of a road nicknamed “VD,” not just because it’s the initials for Victory Drive, but because you’re most likely to get a VD if you pick up a lady down that stretch of road (again, I’m still thinking about 2006 Victory Drive–your venereal disease chances are probably a little less likely now that there are fewer ladies on the corners).

Mark couldn’t do any hip hop dances. Although, maybe he could. I didn’t ask. Mark, can you pop and lock while you pop-a-lock. Or change my tire?

By 8:15, we were on our way back to Alabama. Let this be the first southern adventure (and the last adventure that requires AAA)!

The South does NOT Run on Dunkin’

This morning, Justin and I began our first ever, kid-free adventure–at least, first ever since having kids.

We stopped at a Dunkin’ Donuts, which all you northerners take for granted. Here in…Tennessee (I think?), speed is not the name of the game. In fact, I do believe Constant State of Confusion is the name of the game. My coffee is a large hazelnut raspberry hot coffee, light and sweet. The cashier hits the “less cream and sugar” button. Woah. No. Extra cream, extra sugar. 2 minutes later, from somewhere in the background I hear a woman yell, “the raspberry is sugar free!” What?! No! EXTRA sugar! “But the raspberry flavor is sugar free!” And?! For a decade, I’ve gotten the same exact coffee from Dunkin’! This should not be confusing!

The poor girl in front of us was dressed for a hot summer day, even though it’s freezing and raining. After waiting much longer than we had been, a girl behind the counter said to the shivering waif, “um, do you still want your cappuccino?” Nah girl, she’s just waiting her, freezing, in hopes of never getting her drink. It’s what we’re all hoping for.

Justin pointed out that there were 6 people working, and said, “in New York, it would be two 16 year old girls, and they’d do this all twice as fast.” True.

As we were getting back into our car (after spending 20 minutes of our lives waiting for coffee), a car with NY plates pulled into a space across from us. “Do you think we should warn them??”

Nah–let them be as amused as we just were. Watching in disbelief as 6 humans maintained a high level of confusion over coffee making.

We’re only 4 hours into this adventure! But we have coffee!!!

Adventures in Babysitting Husbands

Justin is home from his yearlong stay in Korea, and after almost a week, he’s finally kicked JetLag in the butt.

The great thing about him being home, is that for the time being, he has no job. I mean, he has a job. He’s just on an extended vacation.

Also, for the sake of this story, I should mention that allergies have been kicking his buns since he has been home.

Today, we adventured to the Zappos outlet. I was looking for 100 new pairs of sneakers, and Justin wandered off to probably do the same. When he came back to show off his find, he was rubbing his left eye. “I can’t see anything out of this eye. Honestly, I don’t even know if my contact is still in there!” I looked, and sure enough, he was contact free. As soon as I announced it was no longer in there, he instantly started looking on himself for it.

“Justin, seriously, what are you going to do if you find it!? Put it back in?!”

We wandered around, looked at more shoes. And then parted ways so I could peruse kid shoes. That’s when it happened.

“Hey! Look what I found!” Justin was looking awfully proud of himself.

“Is it your contact??”

“Yeah yeah!”

“So…now what? Are you just going to put it back in your eye?!”

And this is where he pulled out a bottle of Allergy Eye Drop, filled that sucker up and wiggled it around in the palm of his hand, and then STUCK IT BACK IN HIS EYE!!! “How funny would it be if that wasn’t your contact?”

Honestly, this isn’t the first time in our nearly 14 years that Justin has made less than stellar eye choices. I have assisted in pulling a torn piece of contact out of his eye. He soaked his contacts in hydrogen peroxide solution, in a regular case, and then instantly regretted it when his eyelids fused shut the second that hydrogen peroxide infused contact adhered itself to his eyeball (causing him to cry for 3 days straight).

Later in the afternoon, as we were eating lunch, and I looked into Justin’s eyes. His left pupil was dilated 10 times larger than his right!

“Something is very wrong with your left eye.”

“Yeah. And my left thumb is numb too. I’m probably going to have a stroke. If I do, the combination to the gun safe is–”

“I am not going to shoot you.”

“No no no. Just leave the gun in my hand, and I’ll do the rest.”

This can’t be what other couple discuss during lunch dates.

After a lot of googling (webmd told us it was most likely a cocaine or meth overdose), Justin searched for the side effects of using too many eye drops. Which is probably where I should have started, but I was googling eye dilation and numb thumb (and by this point, he had regained feeling in his thumb). Directly under Side effects of using too many eye drops, it should probably say, “under no circumstances should you put a contact in your eye after finding it on the floor of the Zappos outlet.”

And he says I’m awkward!

It’s the Final Countdown

Justin has been gone 368 days. In this past year, I have done some crazy things, and learned so much about me.

I decided that being a Temporary Single Mom wasn’t enough of a challenge, so I upped the ante and took a full time job as well. Single Working Moms everywhere deserve so much recognition, especially those Moms who live far away from family or any support system. It is hard. It is lonely. At times, it seemed impossible. My last day of work came 2 weeks ago, and while it was bittersweet, I can look back at this year and be proud that I didn’t drown in an overwhelming avalanche of stress. What doesn’t kill you really does make you stronger.

I learned that you can’t put yourself last. No matter how many millions of items might be on your list, putting yourself on the back burner does not help anything. This lesson was learned late in my year–I really only embraced this one sometime around the middle of July. The world might weigh me down, but an hour a day throwing heavy weights around is better than any session with a therapist…but, it might also help that Terry the Torturer is basically my therapist.

People will try to sympathize with you, but there are only a handful of people who know what you’re going through. No, your husband’s weeklong work trip does not compare. It’s true, the sympathetic comparisons this go-around were much less stinging than they were when he was deployed. Every military spouse who has been unwillingly separated from their love has been there, listening to friends who can’t imagine how terrifying it is to know your love is somewhere dangerous, saying things like, “I totally know how you feel! One time, my husband went to California for a week, and it was awful.” While I’m sure it was awful, I doubt you also had to worry about the terrifying reality that you might not see him again.

This time, I realized that people didn’t quite understand my nonchalant attitude. When you said, “oh gosh, that must be so hard,” and I responded by telling  you it really wasn’t, that wasn’t me telling you that it’s easy for me to be 7000 miles away from my husband for a year–it was me telling you that I don’t have to spend the next year panicking every time the doorbell rings. When you’ve survived a 15 month deployment, 12 months overseas and not in a war zone, is easy breezy.

I also found comfort in a surprising location: the women who participated in my aquacise class. These Army Wives of yore are the real deal. My generation of Military Spouse often forget that we aren’t the first. “My husband was in Korea, but back then, there was a war going on.” And there was no FaceTime, no texting, no phone calls. 60 years ago, you waited in hopes of receiving a letter from your love. In comparison, a year apart in 2018 is a cakewalk.

In less than 48 hours, my world will be back to normal. My best friend will be home, and I’ll get to torment him in person again.

I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was; I survived.

And Out Come the Wolves

Or at least the wolf spiders.

Kentucky has taught me to appreciate the giant monsters.

This evening, I spent close to an hour mowing my backyard, which, if you’ve SEEN my back yard, you would know that seems excessive for such a small space.The problem is, I haven’t been good about keeping up with it. This last month of coming off my antidepressants has been awful. It made me remember why it is I’m on them in the first place. I’ve been mean, irrational, occasionally paranoid, and a slew of other fun emotions. If I yelled at you, I’m sorry. If I cried uncontrollably in front of you, thank you for not running away–or thank you for understanding when I ran away.

If you have never dealt with a chemically imbalanced brain, it’s hard to describe the feeling of being absolutely out of control. My brain has been misfiring, pulling and pushing me in 30 directions all at once, all while a voice is yelling “you’re doing it wrong! You’re failing!” Every ounce of my strength was thrown full-force into my job, but of course with my brain not functioning properly, the mistakes have just been piling up. Again, with the neon sign flashing failure above my head. Or maybe in my head. It’s been an electrical storm of emotions, along with the deafening skepticism.

Thankfully, as of Monday, my blood pressure is back to normal–it turns out that the same medication that brought me mental stability was also trying to give me a heart attack. Honestly, after this last 2 week, I still think my mental health is more important. I would rather succumb to a heart attack than I would deal with my inner voice kicking my while I’m down.

Like the roller coaster you didn’t want to get on in the first place, you spent that entire time thinking this is awful! Make it stop! And when it’s over you vow to never do it again.I will never do that again.But back to the spiders!

In my state of meh, my lawn had become a wild jungle of almost knee-high grass. Perfect for wolf spiders–perfect for a tiny world full of insects, really. But, oh my gosh, every pass of the lawn mower, 5-15 spiders with bodies the size of quarters ran in panic! Save yourselves! She’s a functioning human being again and she’s catching up on life!!!

When we first moved to Kentucky, I remember sending a picture to my best friend (a Kentucky girl), and asking “what the heck is this!?!?” As a non-lover of spiders, Justin was called upon often in our first year–“there’s a spider in the bathroom staring at me! And I really have to pee! Please come kill it! And then he deployed and I was left to deal with them. I had to continually remind myself, they’re the good spiders. They’re the reason we have no black widows. They don’t mean to be terrifying. Now, I have a respect for them. They don’t mean to be giant, 8-legged creatures who prefer life in the tall grass of my backyard.

And now I’m sitting here realizing that my depression is a lot like the wolf spiders. I have spent my life hating it–why can’t my brain just function properly? But this is me. And I don’t mean to come in a mentally unstable package. But, at least I am back on the path to sanity.