Category: Army Wife

Save PPE, Ms Dependent Ma’am, You Really Can

Today was our first adventure outside the house since The Great Aldi Trip of Last Thursday. The day didn’t get off to the best start, so I wasn’t thoroughly looking forward to the adventure, but it seems kids need to eat. Every day.

I started the day off by putting on a pair of LuLaRoe leggings–not to actually leave the house in. Just so I wouldn’t be wandering around the house in my underwear. For all you ladies who are “obsessed” with LuLaRoe leggings…I’m sorry but something is wrong with you. It’s probably more likely that there’s something wrong with me, since so many people are in love with them. They’re soft, don’t get me wrong, but they give me hot flashes! No, I’m serious! My legs overheat and then my entire body breaks out into sweat. Which, is pretty much my normal, but I checked my temperature twice this morning, concerned that Justin brought me Covid-19 from work, before I realized it was these damn pants.
That aren’t even flattering. You go girl, if you have to confidence to leave the house in these things. And again, maybe it’s just me, but I pop a pair of LuLaRoe leggings on and instantly look like the really sexy love child of Danny DeVito and Sally O’Malley. For the record, these were hand-me-downs/ups/overs. Whatever, my sister gave them to me.

via GIPHY

Hot and sweaty is something I’m good at. It’s basically a way of life for me. However, if the temperature is above 50 degrees, I can’t even hang out in those super soft, super unflattering leggings. The 2 hours I had them on this morning were a terrible idea. I changed out of my At Home Leggings, and into my Leaving the House Workout Pants, which Justin says are just as unflattering, but he can’t be trusted–he wears the same outfit. Every. Single. Day. I can’t believe no one has ever called him out for it!

My weather app also starts every day by sending me a warning that my allergies are going to make me want to tear my eyeballs out. Also, did you know that itchy eyeballs is now on the list of symptoms for Covid-19?! I mean, it’s more of a viral pink eye situation, than it is an allergy eye thing. But still. It’s like Alabama wants me walking around, looking like Patient Zero. “Oh. My. God. Becky. Look at her eyes. They are like, so red and swollen.” Thanks, Coronavirus, for perfectly aligning with allergy season. Tree pollen, freshly mowed grass, and wisteria from here until tomorrow.

My gosh, I’m more sidetracked than usual! Let me just get right to it.

PPE: Gloves. Face Masks. You know, the items that hospitals are begging for?! People seem to be mildly confused about how it all works.

As I pulled onto post today, to play another round of 30 Items or Less, I watched the woman driving ahead of me try to hand her ID card to the gate guard–woah woah woah, that could send us to threat level We’re All Gonna Die!!! During Coronapocalypse, you hold out your ID card so they can scan the back, and then flip it over so they can see the front. We aren’t doing the whole touching thing anymore.
So yes, she was confused about the ID card scanning policy (this is why I usual get in the U-Scan line). But even more confusing was that the woman was driving around alone in her vehicle, wearing a mask and gloves. Medical grade gloves–not those vinyl food grade babies I have for tie dye and hair dye and whatever else I want to use them for. What the heck are you protecting yourself from in your car? If you have coronavirus, you can’t give it to you.

Well, that was confusing. But I guess I get it. Not everyone understands what’s going on. These are scary times. And also, 3 of the 4 cases in the county happen to be people with ties to Fort Benning, so I’m sure that has People in a Pandemic Panic.

Once at the commissary, I watched multiple cars drive through the parking lot. At least half of them were being driven by seniors wearing masks and gloves! What’s going on here!?!? There weren’t even that many people inside the store wearing PPE, and yet here are people in vehicles occupied by only themselves, wearing their PPE. I bet their trunks were also full of toilet paper. Folks, if you Panic Purchased PPE, please don’t feel obligated to wear them all day, every day. I don’t see you out and about in toilet paper ballgowns, so just keep a box for your worldly adventures, and donate the rest to a hospital! Consider it your good deed for the day–or even for all of Coronapocalypse!

My receipt is sitting in front of me at my desk–oh my god, I had 31 items! In the 30 or less aisle?! It’s a miracle the MPs didn’t come and cart me off to Commissary Jail.

As for my LuLaRoe Leggings–they will be going into hiding until cold weather is upon us again. Voluntary hot flashes are no way to start the day.

Holiday in Covid-19

Here in Alabama, we are 2 days into spring break. So far, we have…..we have…..we….um….

Ok, we haven’t done anything. I’ve been putting an hour of work into getting my vegetable garden started, so that if we make it to May, our little 18×23 Liberty Garden, Corona-Edition, will keep us fed. Here’s hoping we fare better than last year.

My gardening skills sort of come and go. Some years were super successful, while others were not so great.

Last year was one of those “not so great” years. As the first gardening season in Alabama, I had tremendously high hopes. I had a 3 season plan that would keep us in veggies from February through November. There were just a few issues.

The sad and lonely, gardenless arbor.

The first being, our Tigger-like pup, Emma, loves to help. She digs a mean hole, and is a professional at weed pulling. Of course, she doesn’t know the difference between a week and an actual plant, so everything gets yanked out, thrown around, and murdered by her. It’s so helpful. I bought some wire fence, some metal fence posts, and a gated arbor, to keep the garden monster out. I then spent a solid 3 months putting up the fence, the arbor, and digging out the grass.

The next issue was that I procrastinated like the true, Professional Procrastinator that I am. Once the garden was planted, I also noticed these little baby plants coming up in tidy little rows. I told Justin that we should wait and see (worst plan for any situation), because maybe they’re something.

Third, I took our kids to NY for a few weeks, and left my husband (who is often at work 16 hours a day, and sometimes as much as 40 hours straight) in charge of taking care of it. I came home to Jurassic Garden. At which point, not only was the entire space overrun with WILD MORNING GLORIES, but my little “Let’s see what these turn out to be” plants were really looking a lot like peanut plants. After 2 weeks of de-wild-morning-glorying the space, I decide to take inspiration from Jimmy Carter and become a peanut farmer……

…..Of course then it ended up my peanut plants were really some kind of weed that only looks peanutish, but is in fact a whole lot of nothing. Jimmy, I failed you.

My garden produced a solid 2 cucumbers. Which, in a space of 414sqft, is sad. I vowed that 2020 would be better than 2019.

February came and went. Every day I told myself that today would be the day I started this garden. Ok, maybe tomorrow. Ok, maybe Monday.

Then the world started freaking out and buying up meat and toilet paper. Nothing like a little Pandemic Panic to Prompt Produce Production. Let the planting begin!

Today is day 4 of my Garden jumpstart frenzy. I have just under 1/2 of the garden planted. According to my fancy Alabama Garden App (it’s a thing, don’t be jealous that you don’t live near a major agricultural university. We can’t all be this rural), I should start having vegetables by the beginning of May.

In the meantime, I guess it’s back to honing my “gathering” skills. Which, aren’t great. Justin told me he doesn’t think my giant dandelion plants are actually dandelions, so I should probably halt all attempts at feeding my family weeds. And since I’ve never shot a gun (don’t gasp. Just because I’m married to a gun-owning soldier does not mean I care to have anything to do with them myself), the hunting portion of this Covid Apocalypse is going to have to go on the back burner–where it will stay until the Zombie Apocalypse, at which time I suppose knowing how to shoot a gun will be a necessity.

As for the rest of spring break? Well, I’ve taken my usual social distancing and really kicked it right up into homebound recluse status. Are we almost out of juice? Yes. Have I decided that they can wait 2-4 months for our garden to start producing and then we can enjoy some fresh-squeezed tomato juice? Also yes. Pandemic Paranoia is Prominent.

Get Up, Covid Get Down With Self-Quarantine

Congratulations, everyone. We made it through the first 6 months of self-quarantine….wait…crap. Let’s try that again.

Congratulations everyone! We’ve made it through the first week of self-quarantine. Here’s what I’ve noticed so far.

Nothing. Has. Changed. At least for me, but as I’ve said before, I am a Master Social-Distancer. Ask an introvert how they’re doing in self-quarantine, and chances are they’ll tell you how amazing it is that no one has dropped by unannounced, or no one has begged them to go out in the world and be social. For the extroverts who are feeling like it’s been 6 months, or maybe even closer to 6 years, just think, what you’re going through right now, is exactly how introverts have felt–forced to do things they really don’t want to do. Sorry, extroverts–you’re in our world now.

Truly though, I think there’s something wrong with my children. Not wrong, but…something is going on. The side-effects of a world without outside influences, maybe? All I know is that Monday morning when I woke up, I prayed that we made it through the week without one murdering the other. By Friday, I noticed…something. Is this…friendship?? Are they getting along?!

My darling angels, who normally spend every waking moment pushing the buttons of the other, were suddenly choosing to spend time together. They spent close to an hour yesterday reading their Pokemon Guidebooks, and no one got punched or scratched! All eyes remained firmly inside their sockets.

They have also spent hours on the trampoline, with the sprinkler (before you shiver to death, my dear Northerners, it is currently 85 and sunny here in the Dirty South).

I’ve been trying to fill their days with learning–you see, unlike the spoiled suburbanites (and possibly urbanites as well), the rural kids don’t have online learning. There is no Google Classroom for rural Alabama children. Our county gave us a list of places we could pick up a packet per student. Our county has a 22% poverty rate. To put that into perspective, Saratoga County NY (chosen because that’s where I grew up) has a 6% poverty rate; no county in NYS has a rate over 18%.

I have noticed a lot of complaining on social media, about how unfair it is that teachers are expecting their students (and parents) to do so much work, while parents are also trying to work from home. I can understand the frustration…but think about the alternative–your child could have been handed a 60 page packet, while in your head you can hear Edward R. Murrow saying, “goodnight, and good luck.”

I am not “education shaming” anyone (is that a thing? I don’t know–I’m probably just making it up). I just want you, the parent frustrated with the daily assignments to know that it could be worse. You could be waking up every morning and thinking, what am I going to attempt to teach my children once they’ve made it through their work packets? What happens if this quarantine lasts longer than these initial 3 weeks? What if I am now responsible for my children’s education, with no guidance for the rest of the school year? For eighteen months!?

You see? You are angry at teacher, who had to figure out how to work from home in under 24 hours. They did not ask for this. This isn’t necessarily something they’ve been doing all along, so chances are they had to learn and work to make this happen. While you are working from home and trying to help children with homework, teachers are are now at home, trying to teach your kids, plus however many other children are in their classroom, plus now also teaching their children. I have seen so many cool posts from educators this past week, who are trying to make the best of a crappy situation. They aren’t perfect, but no one is. We’re all doing out best, and it helps no one to jump on social media and attack teachers for not being able to teach in a classroom. Would you attack nurses for the lack of hospital beds? Would you attack the cashier at the grocery store for the total lack of toilet paper and ground beef?

Who knows. You might. But take a deep breath, and ask yourself–do they have any control over the situation?? Do any of us?

My kids just came inside to inform me that Shea was throwing shoes at Xander…but Xander also wasn’t helping to pick up the water balloon pieces from the trampoline. *Sigh* At least this week is Spring Break–I can pretend my children’s education, and therefore future, isn’t landing 100% on my shoulders.

And for the rest of you, who aren’t on Spring Break, cut these teachers some slack. For the parents who are frustrated with the amount of work they now feel teachers are requiring of them, I promise, there are no teacher kicking back and drinking a beer, while you alone juggle your added daily tasks. For the parents who might not live in a community with fancy schools and chrome books sent home with your children, or google classroom to keep your children’s brains full and growing–well, Goodnight, and Good Luck.

Come Together, Right Now, Over Covid-19

These are strange times, indeed. The uncertainty of it all is what makes it seem so…overwhelming? Scary? A third option?

Sunday night I realized that I had better message my PCM and let her know I was getting close to running out of my blood pressure double cocktail. I also asked that, in light of the extra safety measures put in place at the hospital, could they please (please) send my prescriptions to either the refill pharmacy, or any pharmacy that doesn’t require me to go to large military hospital. When I received my notification phone call, the nurse (who also took my stitches out of my forehead a year ago–thanks Mr E) thanked me for trying to be proactive, but they were not allowed to send prescriptions anywhere. I tried, and I was unsuccessful.

Today I decided that the longer I put it off, the worse it would be. After asking Justin if there was any way I could drop our maybe-not-so-tiny-anymore humans off to him (and learning that, no, he was still somewhere in the woods, in Georgia, playing dress up with face-paint and all), I did some searching, took a deep breath and accepted that my kids were old enough to be left alone (in Alabama, as soon as you can say “y’all,” you’re old enough; the army says 9-12 year olds can be home alone for up to 2 hours). I set out the rules–do not go outside, and no shenanigans. Xander was even able to repeat them back to me (which you might think is a weird thing to say about a 9 year old, but this is the same kid that usually, when asked to repeat back what we said to him, replies with, “I don’t know…words??”).

I would share a photo of the pre-hospital-entry portion of this adventure, but it’s probably not allowed…or it’s probably something I don’t want to risk getting in trouble for. I really just don’t like to get in trouble. Sammi Steeves, Rule Follower!

I followed the signs pointing the way, and reminding me that if I had a cough, fever, or had been out of the country or in contact with a sick human, I would not be allowed access to the hospital. I’m not really sure how to feel about that final statement. If hospitals are for sick people, and they aren’t allowing the sick people in, where are they going? I hope I just misread the signs, or skipped a section. I hope?

So far, nothing new or different has happened, other than I was able to find parking on the first level of the parking garage! I locate a table saying “Pharmacy Check-In,” and head over, ID card in hand. I’m all smiles and sunshine, because I know this is a weird time, and no one wants to be the guy out front. After asking the same questions listed on the multiple signs I passed on my 5oft walk from the parking garage to the table, he asks, “would you like to come back at 1100? Or 1600? To pick up your prescriptions car-side?” Goodbye smile; hello angry eyes.

“Are you serious? I called and messaged my provider, and asked if there was any way I could get my prescriptions without entering the hospital. And now, after driving 30 minutes to get here, you’re telling me I have to come back at either 11 or 4?!” He said I could still pick them up if I wanted to take my chances going into the hospital. No, buddy, I don’t want to go into the hospital. But I also don’t want to drive home, just so I can turn around an come back in an hour.

I make my way to the entrance. Where I am stopped by another soldier. “Ma’am, the main hospital entrance is closed.” I do a full turn, and say, “so, how am I supposed to get to the pharmacy?” Oh! I see–through the giant army tent tunnel set up. I wash my hands at the hand washing station, say hello to the CPT across from me, and then we make our way toward the tent–where I managed to get yelled at for not leaving 6 feet between me and the CPT. I’m being yelled at by a soldier standing 2 feet from me: “Ma’am! You need to maintain 6ft between you and the person in front of you!” I might have burst out laughing.

Once inside the Tent of Uncertainty, a medic asked me the same questions I had already been asked–twice. I asked him if he was having fun: “well, I’m standing outside in an army tent, taking temperatures.” As he was taking my temperature he said, “honestly, my usual job is way more stressful.” Well, now I want details.

But there’s no time for details, because I now have a fancy green wristband stamped 18March2020, and I get to finish my walk of awkwardness through the tent. Which was surprisingly spacious on the inside.

Every other seat in the waiting area has a SOCIAL DISTANCING DO NOT USE sign taped to it…but of course the seats are back-to-back, so I could just lean over and rest my head on the person behind me, if anyone chose to sit there. Normally the wait can be hours, but I had ticket 135, and they were on 127. This never happens!

Everyone is keeping their distance and keeping to themselves. And then I hear, “excuse me? Can you help me?” Behind me is standing a little Ajumma. “I don’t know what I am doing. My husband always does this for me, and I’ve never picked up my prescriptions before! Can you help me?” Only if you can give me your recipe for kimchi.

I walked her through it. “Do you have your ID? Scan this barcode, not other one. Is that your information on the screen? Touch the confirm button.” Of course the next step could be confusing for anyone, because you have to choose your category. It’s the Choose Your Own Adventure portion of all prescription pickups. Asking a question, Soldier in Uniform, Same-day surgery, 3 other weirdly-worded categories that I know probably pertain to no one, and finally, All other beneficiaries. I told her that was her category. Then, being that she’s Korean and adorable, she thanked me 572 times, and started to walk away. “Ma’am! Don’t forget to take your number!”

“Now serving B128,” and Ajumma hops up and says, “oh, that’s me! That’s my number!” I asked if I could check her paper, and told her she was one-thirty-eight, and they had called 128.

I don’t know why her husband was unable to come with her today, but I can guess it had something to do with his health. Did I have to break the 6 foot spacing rule in order to assist her? You bet I did. Did she get to go home and tell her husband she was able to fill her prescriptions without his assistance? Probably! Did I get her to write down all of her Korean recipes? No! I should’ve held her number hostage until she told me the secret to making perfect dumplings!

In the end, I made it home in less than 2 hours. My children had stayed inside, and hadn’t gotten caught up in any shenanigans. So we all got in the car and went grocery shopping…which was much less frenzy-filled than I expected it to be!

I’m Judging Me

Anxiety is super judgy. It makes everyone stare at you, watching your every move.

Except, none of it is real and it’s all in your head. Your brain is the only judgy bitch in the room.

Today was Thanksgiving Lunch at school. Every year I have to force myself to go, and not be a total freak. Once again, Justin was unable to join me today, so I found myself going it alone. Which makes it worse. I can handle public situations like a boss when I have someone to hide behind.

Even though I fought with myself all morning (I don’t have to go. They’ll never notice), I sucked it up and went. Arriving early, just like they suggested. I signed in, grabbed my visitor sticker, paid, and when they called first grade parents, in I went.

I sat in a room full of strangers, proud of the face that I was doing it, and even though I hated it, I was here. The kids started pouring in. And then I realized what a terrible mistake I had made: Xander is in second grade. I was so busy making sure I survived this trauma, that I panicked and jumped the gun on actually going in.

While the first grade parents were locating their children, and the kindergarten parents were saying goodbye to theirs, I snuck out the door with my to-go container full of Thanksgiving Lunch. I hid the evidence of my failure in my car, took a deep breath and tried again.

Did I survive? Yes. Did I actually eat lunch with my kids? Well, no. But I was there.

As I headed out to my car at the end of it all, my brain announced, “good job–I knew you could do it.” Oh shut up, you judgy bitch. Where were you 2 hours ago when I needed the pep talk!?