Confessions of a Military Wife

by Mollie Gross

  Our Navy neighbors across the street invited us over to their backyard to watch the spectacular fireworks. We would pile in, grill out, eat cupcakes, drink beer, and watch the fireworks.

  At one party I managed to get wasted while playing horseshoes. A five-foot tall, 100-pound spouse going through a deployment should not be given heavy metal horseshoes to throw around, especially if she is drunk.

  There are pictures circulating of me wearing a tiny Uncle Sam top hat while drunkenly throwing horseshoes at people. How anyone avoided serious bodily injury is a miracle.

  It was not my best moment. Good thing I limit drinking to parties. After that day, I started to think that even that was too often.

  HALLOWEEN

  We always had the fall months together and thoroughly enjoyed them.

  Halloween has always been a favorite holiday. With all the kids on base, I was so excited about trick-or-treat time. Jon and I went all out carving pumpkins and putting costumes on them. One year we had Hajji pumpkins with full headdresses.

  Jon was usually in the field during trick-or-treat hours, so Michelle and I would sit in lawn chairs in the driveway and hand out candy.

  One year a Marine family dressed up as members of the band KISS. Even the three-year-old was in full KISS gear. We got the biggest kick seeing these big masculine Marines dress up in costumes along with their kids.

  Jon and Beenie’s birthdays were near Halloween, so we would plan huge costume parties. We had music, cake, and prizes for the best costumes. It was excellent to see all these Marines cut loose and get dressed up.

  One year, Christa and I dressed as Sigfried and Roy. Another couple was Clementine and Dangle from Reno 911—tiny shorts and all. All the couples really got into making their costumes and trying to outdo last year’s design.

  We would hold the party in our garage—moving couches out there and putting up lights and decorations everywhere.

  The fall and winter holidays came right before scheduled deployments, so they became a way for all of us to blow off steam. We enjoyed them to the fullest.

  GIVE THEM THE BIRD

  Thanksgiving has turned into my next favorite holiday and I owe it all to the Corps. It is the one holiday that nearly all military families spend together.

  Our tradition is centered on the turkey. No one can fry up a Thanksgiving turkey like Beenie’s husband. Once you have had a fried turkey, you won’t want it any other way. You will risk burning a hand or even your entire home just to have a turkey fryer out back.

  My husband had to serve duty on our first Thanksgiving together. I remember taking Jon a plate and sitting with him in a tiny office as we ate our dinners. We sat and watched a movie together, then I headed home.

  Beenie’s dad, who lived in Las Vegas, would sometimes join us. Boy, was he a treat! His hobbies included gambling, undergoing plastic surgery, and dating as many young ladies as possible.

  I would tease Ed: “Oh, Ed if I wasn’t married, and just a few years younger!” He loved it. No one really knew how old he was because he looked amazing—a bit like Ricardo Montalban, but with this great mustache. He was really debonair, and a huge flirt. Ed would take turns socializing with everyone while nursing his Crown Royal.

  At our second Thanksgiving together we had just said the blessing over the meal. Beenie’s first child, Grace, just six months old, was sitting in a walker beside the table. I was next to Autumn, who was next to Ed, who was next to the baby at the end of the table.

  Ed stood up after the blessing and started to say something. The next thing Autumn and I knew, Ed looked at us and then seemed to leap backward like a cheerleader at a football game prepping for a back flip.

  As he was flying through the air, I saw that the baby was directly in his path. Nor could I do anything to stop what surely was going to happen.

  He went flying through the air and bounced off the baby in her walker. Once he landed on the ground, we saw that not one drop of his Crown Royal had spilled.

  Grace was screaming, but more from fright than pain. Apparently he had missed her by inches.

  The men pulled Ed up off the ground. As they did, he exclaimed, “My leg atrophied.” I have never seen an atrophied leg, but I had just seen a 70plus-year-old man cut a back flip at Thanksgiving dinner. Who knew a little Crown Royal could do that?

  Beenie missed the entire incident, but Autumn and I being Aries and horribly immature, had to excuse ourselves and go into the garage for major giggle fits several times during the evening.

  To this day Jon and I have kept our military tradition of frying a turkey at Thanksgiving. We will either spend the holiday with members of our military family or invite friends over who are unable to go home for the holidays.

  Our prayers of blessings and thanks are always focused on our military family wherever they may be in the world.

  CHRISTMAS COMPETITIONS

  Base housing neighborhoods go wild at Christmas. The competition starts when the first dad climbs on the roof to put up lights. The obsession of “yard of the quarter” hits its zenith in December. The designated parking space at the commissary is awarded to the house with the best holiday decorations.

  However, the spot is not as prestigious as the respect from the other men in the neighborhood when your home has the best holiday decorations.

  I have to say Del Mar housing had some bizarre decorations. Maybe it was because we were in California and everyone was trying to be politically correct, or maybe it’s because there were just more options for decorations at Wal-Mart.

  Some of the houses were adorned with Mexican Santas—very tan, very festive Santas. Neither white, nor Black, but definitely Latino.

  One of our neighbors had this bizarre blow-up reindeer that was over nine feet tall. He would climb up on his roof, complete with night vision goggles, and scope out the competition in the neighborhood before blowing up his monster reindeer.

  This made the wives nervous. Here was someone with night vision goggles looking in our yards at night. (Keep in mind that I had a trampoline in my backyard that neighborhood parents were just as fond of “playing” on as the kids!)

  My personal favorite decoration was the one in the Colonel’s yard down the street. He had a light-up Santa seated in a wheelchair. I wondered if Santa had had an accident while trying to get down a chimney.

  It was great fun to drive around base housing checking out the lights. Some houses were just over the top.

  One of our Bunco ladies, Sally, had lost her husband in Iraq and it was her first Christmas without him. Whenever she would come down to the base to play Bunco with us, she often stayed at my girlfriend Karen’s house.

  At night those two would go wild. The Officers’ Club was just behind our neighborhood, so those two would take a shortcut by cutting through the tall grass.

  Every time Sally came down for a visit, two things would happen: they would “drunk dial” me at two in the morning, and the reindeer decorations would be rearranged to make it look like they were humping each other.

  The coital reindeer raised some eyebrows in Del Mar housing. The few teens in the neighborhood were getting blamed, but I knew it was all the work of one woman: Sally from the Valley.

  Look, she had lost her husband in the war against terrorism. I think she should be allowed to blow off a little steam.

  Sally became an inspiration to us. Humping reindeer aside, she showed us that life goes on, and it is all about attitude.

  HOLIDAY WISHES FROM A DRUNK POGUE

  Our first Christmas on base started off on the wrong foot. With the holidays approaching we looked for an opportunity to share a little Christmas cheer before we traveled to see our families throughout the United States.

  Jon’s first deployment with Second Battalion, First Marines, was in January. This was going to be our first Christmas on base and our last holiday before deployment.

  The deployment was getting close so we wanted a festive gathering. Jon and I decided on a holiday “w
ine and cheese party.”

  No offense to Grunts, as I am deeply in love with one, but my attempts at a sophisticated, elegant party stopped at the invitation. Even the fact that I had sent out invitations was, by the guys’ standards, “gay.”

  I should have known better and planned a beer and pretzel party instead, but hindsight is 20/20. I tried really hard for the sake of the women. We had had so much fun getting dressed up for the Ball. I wanted another chance to feel elegant.

  I even attempted to make fondue. Here’s my recipe for Grunt family fondue: heat up Cheese Whiz.

  I did get a bunch of gourmet cheeses and Brie (whatever that is) from a grocery store off base, but I didn’t have matching wineglasses. But I did have glasses I had collected from the restaurants I had worked at over the years.

  I told everyone to bring his or her favorite wine, which translated to the wives bringing their favorite wine coolers and twelve packs of beer for the men.

  Mostly, I just wanted the evening to be fun. The women had hung out with each other while the guys had worked together for nine months. But this was going to be the first official gathering we had had in our home.

  We were proud to have the 2nd Lieutenants from the battalion in our home. The Christmas tree was up and I thought it looked darling. It was our first Christmas tree together.

  There were many things to be proud of that night, but the disaster that happened was not one of them.

  Beenie was about six months pregnant with her first baby. Although Lloyd was not in my husband’s battalion, she had spent so much time with us at the beach and playing Bunco that it seemed natural to include them. Besides, Lloyd had gone through TBS with all of these guys.

  Beenie drove down early to help me prepare for the party. She and Lloyd also planned on spending the night with us.

  As I was getting things ready, I noticed she kept calling Lloyd on his cell phone. She told me that he had gone golfing with a bunch of higher-ranking Marine Corps judges.

  I was not concerned about any “Grunt/Pogue” rivalry during the party because these guys had gone through TBS together. That rugged Marine infantry training can result in some serious bonding. Some of it borders on what wives call, “Brokeback TBS.” We have heard stories of guys sleeping as close together as possible (cuddling?) while in the field during the long Virginia winters.

  To these stories, Marines respond, “What happens in the field, stays in the field.”

  Beenie was getting more and more concerned as the afternoon wore on. Lloyd finally arrived, but he was drunk as a skunk when a friend dropped him off.

  I had a feeling it was going to be a long night because Beenie was HOT! After some arguing, she made him take a nap in the hope that he would sleep it off. I did not want to embarrass her further, so we didn’t tell Jon or any guest that Lloyd was passed out drunk in the guest room. Big mistake!

  The party was going along smoothly. We were talking about the last few months of training and were starting to get to know the single Marines a little better.

  We were well into a gag gift exchange when we heard a racket at the back of the room. There was Lloyd standing on one of my kitchen chairs. He was waving a fondue stick and had a mouth full of cheese.

  He started yelling, “Any of you Grunt motherf∗∗∗∗∗s think you can take a Pogue, why don’t you just?”

  And then Lloyd fell off the chair.

  We all looked at each other. Can you say “uncomfortable moment”? Keep in mind, most of these guys had no idea that Lloyd was even at the party since they had not seen him since TBS.

  They all had looks plastered on their faces that said, “Who was this random stranger at the Gross’ threatening to fight?” I felt bad for Beenie, who by this time was starting to cry.

  Jon jumped up to help Lloyd, who had landed in the Christmas tree water. Jon and Carl pulled him out and carried him back to bed.

  I have to say my house full of Grunts handled the threat very well. There could have been a rumble. On the other hand, maybe it was the Christmas spirit that kept them in check.

  After Lloyd’s appearance, the party took a wild turn. The next thing I knew, my theatrical wigs had been pulled out of the closet as well as my hats and fur coats.

  Before I knew it I had about seven drunk 2nd Lieutenants in drag posing for pictures on my couch. I have been sworn to secrecy, so I won’t tell you who they were. I will tell you this: my husband was wearing a pink cowboy hat. These Grunts know who they are and they each have copies of the photos—but I have the negatives. :)

  I’m not so sure that what happens in the field really does stay in the field.

  HOT BUTTERED RUM

  The harbor is just outside the gates of Del Mar. Every Christmas we would bundle up in coats and blankets and go down to watch the Harbor Lights Parade. All the boats are decorated with lights and carry men dressed as Santas.

  For this event, Autumn would fill a thermos with hot buttered rum using a recipe she’d gotten from her mom. It was supposed to keep us warm and feeling festive. There is nothing more sweet or warm than her hot buttered rum, which tastes like warm butterscotch.

  My husband fell in love with this beverage. I watched him finish two cups while standing in her kitchen. After that he filled his thermos and mine up to the top with this buttery grog.

  However, I decided to switch over to hot chocolate because I didn’t want to have to find a bathroom while we were watching the parade.

  At the harbor we watched the yachts and tiny tugs decked out for Christmas. As everyone was enjoying a light buzz from the buttered rum, I noticed my husband starting to turn a little green. It was then I figured out that Jon had polished off both thermoses of hot buttered rum.

  I alerted Autumn. We did the math. Jon had ingested about four sticks of butter, six cups of sugar, and at least one cup of rum! We told him we thought it would be best if he stayed away from the Christmas fudge and cookies.

  When he absorbed the reality of all he had ingested, Jon agreed to lay off the sweets and then walked off to puke.

  Hot buttered rum and “butter bars” don’t mix.

  DEALING WITH EXTENDED FAMILY

  This is an extremely touchy subject. When dealing with your extended family, married couples need to remember that it’s OK to do things differently from your families. In fact, Jon and I had to come to terms with the fact our respective families’ traditions were not wrong, just different.

  Every family has its own quirks, traditions, and priorities. The beauty of being married is that you get to start your own family traditions. Define your new family by looking at your families of origin and deciding what traditions, values, and priorities you want to repeat, and which you want to ditch.

  I believe the biggest challenge in the first year of marriage is defining your new family. It is especially difficult in the military because the government makes the priorities for you so you and your spouse have to work with what’s left. If you don’t focus on that little bit that is your own, you can get very lost—quickly.

  One of the big mistakes Jon and I made during our first years of marriage was to devote our vacations and down time to our extended families. I think the shock of living so far from both families coupled with the stress of the war made us think we needed to spend all of our time with them.

  In hindsight, I think we overdid it. We should have taken time for ourselves and created our own family traditions. Honestly, at that time none of us knew if Jon would come home from these deployments. We all wanted every minute with him.

  So many problems with the extended family arise in military families. Those problems included in-laws unwilling to support the marriage, wanting to be on hand for farewells and reunions, showing up uninvited, and arguing over where everyone would spend the holidays.

  It seems to be a trend in the military to see disconnects or strife between the service man and his family.

  A lot of military personnel come from a family tradition of military servic
e. However, I really think a lot of men and women join the service to have a sense of belonging and to be a part of a new family. Joining the military is a way to create a new family, find a sense of belonging, and serve your country.

  It seemed during our time on base that nearly every other couple was experiencing some turmoil with extended family. Family squabbles on top of prepping for war is just too much unnecessary stress.

  I saw Marines who came from unhealthy homes try to reach out one last time in an effort to make things right. More often than not the effort blew up in their face and caused a lot of grief for their wives during the deployment.

  Whether you’re military or not and you’re having issues with your extended family or friends, start by setting boundaries. Be polite. Put yourself in the other person’s shoes before reacting to a situation. Try to understand what they are thinking or feeling. And take responsibility for what you may have done to create the strife.

  Finally, and most importantly, you and your spouse must preserve the sanctity and respect of your own family. When facing the reality of war, you do not need other distractions.

  Military wives can act as the filter, deciding what their husbands need to deal with during their deployments and career. These women have made great sacrifices to be with their men on this journey. Military wives need to remember, when dealing specifically with a mother-in-law, that you both love this man. It is not about your husband or son choosing who he loves more. It is about making life for the service member easier as he prepares for a life of duty to his country.

  Wives, what a great gift you give your husband to keep peace in the family by being polite and kind the few times a year that they visit. If there is an issue with your mother-in-law, your husband should take care of it for you.

  Extended family can be like civilians in the sense that they may not understand your lifestyle, priorities, and values. It is up to you as a family to handle what you can control. It will take some time, but as everyone adjusts to the lifestyle and becomes aware of everyone’s stresses, you will, hopefully, be able to get along.