Define Normal
I used to define normal so easily. Wake up, kiss Hunny off to work, send kids to school, clean house, make dinner, put kids to bed, spend some quiet time with Hunny after work. Go to bed. Lather, rinse repeat. That was normal for 9 years of our marriage. Unfortunately so was a weekly struggle to make ends meet. The mystery of how to make his paychecks stretch to both buy groceries and have telephone service. The constant worry that if one of us got sick or injured without medical insurance we’d have a huge bill. Which four years ago led to the next stage of normal.
Stage two of normal was seeing him off for basic training, waiting by the phone, writing alot of letters, trying my hand at single parenthood for the first time and waiting until he got home. During this normal stage, bills were easier to pay, and we finally had medical coverage. That was a huge relief. Then he came home with orders to Alaska. Alaska has it’s own definition of normal, but we’ll get to that.
Stage three of normal now was living with my grandmother until we were approved to move up here with him. This three month period’s definition of normal was truly hurry up and wait. Wait for him to have time to get the paperwork done. Wait for his NCO to get the paperwork moving. Wait for the higher NCO to kick the first NCO in the ass for holding things up. Wait for housing. Housing came through on New Years Eve (2002/03), and finally so did our approval to join him. Which meant we now had to get packed and get on a plane.
Alaska normal begins. Normal here was 30 below zero in the winter. Thankfully we arrived in February so we missed the dark periods. They’re normal too. In December we are lucky to get four hours of daylight. Normal is moose crossing the road, or laying in the road to absorb the warmth of the pavement from the cars. Normal is trick or treating in the snow with your costume either purchased super big to fit over your thermals, snowpants and coat, or hidden under the coat. Normal is being able to drive at 2am in May because it’s still daylight, and kids saying it can’t be time to come in the sun is still out since summers have 20+ hours of daylight. Normal is not the 1200 pound angry female moose that charged us repeatedly at Denali! No, NO it’s NOT! And for 2 years, normal wasonce again kiss my Hunny goodbye, get the kids to school, see him at lunch, get kids home, make dinner, greet Hunny after a long day, get kids to bed and spend some quiet time alone before going to bed ourselves.
In August 2005 normal changed drastically. I started that morning like many others. Get the kids ready for school. Kiss hubby goodbye. Only this time the goodbye would be one year of service in Iraq. Normal took a nosedive for a while there. Until I found a routine. Normal was once again single motherhood. Normal was reading my husband’s words on a screen, or trying to hear his voice with a 5 second delay over the phone and not talk over him. It was packing boxes, waiting, packing more boxes, worrying, packing even more boxes and counting the days. Finally the day was here. He was coming home. He was on a plane the next day. I couldn’t wait. Things would be Normal again. Alaska normal at least. Then the unthinkable happened. His brigade was held over for a 120 day extension. So, this last normal was extended by four months, moved to a more dangerous place and here we go again.
During Extended Normal, I found a new friend, and normal became lattes, and laughing, and shopping, and errand running. Talking, more laughing, learning a whole new language of Lizzisms, and making the time pass quickly. Walking our dogs, working out on occasion, or just hanging out. Then her normal changed, and so did mine. The night she got the call that her husband had been injured in Iraq. Normal now is different for us both, and it involves alot of praying, more worrying, and praying some more. But I really admire the strength she’s shown in this situation. If I can do half as well, I’d be lucky. Normal for her, and her 3 girls and her “Pooh” will involve recovery, rehabilitation (his leg was amputated below the knee due to complications from a compound fracture suffered in an IED attack), patience, but they’re a great family and they’ll get through this. And normal for me is babysitting her dogs, and other furbabies and plants.
I’m not sure normal is ever one single thing for anyone. It morphs, and changes, and you just accept it and move along. In a month or so my Hunny will come home, and for us things will return to “Alaska” normal for a while, then back to Army normal while he goes off for a month of school, comes back and moves us to our next duty station. Where we will learn what Washington normal is, and start all over again. The constant normal in our lives is each other, and that’s really the only normal I need.