Moving Stinks

How many moves has it been? I think it has been nine total but my memory gets a bit fuzzy. I am feeling a bit fuzzy - and not in the good way, more like the way your head feels after a few to many drinks and not enough hours of sleep. So, I guess I have a moving hangover. I think I will make that an official military wife term.

Time heals wounds, right? Well, I am wounded right now. I miss my friends who became my family while we lived in Iowa. They would understand that right now I am not in a good place but it will get better. They wouldn't be alarmed that I am counting the days until I laugh. They would rub my shoulders and get me a cold beer because my feet, back, and fingers are aching from moving and unpacking boxes. I have a great friend who has a darling daughter who would rub my feet while they dangled in the pool. It doesn't get any better.

I am tired of unpacking boxes. I wonder, why do we need so much stuff? Each house is different and I have to find a new place to store everything. Then I have to remember where we put things. Sometimes we just plain old forget and then we forget what we were looking for.

My last complaint is about the housing. We are in a rental that is nice but the previous owner didn't take care of her home. In her defense, her husband was in the desert for 18 months. You know you are in a military house when the doorbell is The Army Song! My complaint isn't necessarily about the rental... it is about the on-post military housing. Gene jumped through a lot of hoops to get us on the waiting list for housing. When I saw it I cried. It was insulting. My husband has served his country for almost 20 years, regularly works 12 hour days, deployed three times, and has been shot at, bombed, and had his life changed forever and we are offered a home that is pathetic. I would be grateful for any home if they didn't take so much money out of his pay in exchange for a 1,000 square foot building that has zero storage... and a stove shoved up against the counter top... and an apartment size refrigerator... and a one car carport... and dirt patches for a front yard... and... I could go on but it is too frustrating.

Now, I guess it is time for me to dig deep into my military wife reserves and find the silver lining. Moving is a special time for Gene and I to bond and count on eachother. Our back deck looks out over gorgeous full grown trees. Friday loves his big fenced backyard. I get to make a home for our two girls and help them through the pain of leaving behind friends. It gives them an unique opportunity to build their relationship as sisters and friends. We have another chance to simplify our life by donating unused household items to people who need them. But mostly, this move is an opportunity to realize how important family and friends are and to go out there and make more friends who will make my life special.