When Barracks go Wrong | Wearing Stripes

Guys ... I know it seems like I complain.

A LOT.

But I really don't.

I mean, sure - I guess the complaining is what makes a "story" interesting. I mean, would you want to read about someone's life that was perfect in every single way?

I know I wouldn't.

I'd hate that person for being so awesome and I wouldn't be able to compare.

SO --

Here's my complaint number 5,009,394 of the military life.

I have been really lucky to have PCS'd to a new location with my husband and have my old unit be rather workable. They've let me "drill" with other units and they've been pretty cool about me taking physical fitness tests with my husband's unit as well as keeping up to date with my weapons qualifications.

I mean, I know a lot of other units who are horrible and don't take care of their soldiers. I keep up to date on annual health screenings and my soldiering tasks ... and well, I'm pretty good at my job. So my unit lets me be.

So when they say I HAVE to show up, across the country, for a day's certification class (with two extra days of travel) - I obliged.

I mean, I wasn't happy about it. I also only got notice of it a few days prior. BUT - I obliged.

Shoot, during the country's longest government shutdown in history and they want to fly me across the country for a 10 minute certification and pay me three days worth of work?

I'm down. 

However ...

When I arrived to the barracks in which we were to staying - no one could tell me the building number I was in. "It's the second to last building on the left with the third flag pole in front of it and the 4th yellow door on the right."

An hour later - I find the room I'm supposed to be in and there were 9-10 females also sharing the open bay room with me.

And only one single key to the bay.

What in the actual world?!

We are all on different schedules and basically on a short chain to whomever has the key with them.

Ridiculous! 

Oh, and not to mention - no linens were available - WHEN we were told there would be linens available. Luckily, I brought a fitted sheet (thanks to my many Army friends who suggested things to bring to an open bay barracks) and a pillow case. When I got to my bed, there was a pillow - thank goodness. But after asking many National Guard peeps - no linen would be given out to us because they were "reserved" for the students that are staying in the same barracks.

Okay, I get it. Students first. They get first in chow, they get first rooms, they get priority, I get it.

But why the hell are we staying in barracks that don't have enough keys for their instructors OR linens?

Thanks to a local friend - because I went back to Fort Bragg for this - she lent me a comforter for my two nights I stayed in the freezing barracks with no heat.

My biggest complaint is this:

Had I not been local to Fort Bragg years prior, I wouldn't have had the support for resources that I did. I came from the west to the east coast. I was left hanging when I was told I would have the resources needed to sustain a somewhat comfortable living area.

Again, another shout out to my Army peeps for also suggesting bringing an extension cord. There were no electric outlets in the sleeping area. No where to plug in alarm clocks or - SHOCKER - cell phones to wake us up in time for formations.

I had always envied the higher ranking NCOs when I was younger. They always got the top of the line ... after the officers, of course. But I was like, "When I'm a senior NCO, I'm going to be living large."

Nope. 

I was wrong. You are always at the mercy of the military. You think you're cool and then the Army slaps the shit outta you.

All this to say - I'm glad I have great friends who look out for me.

You guys rock.

This also brings me to my recent barracks fiasco.

Fort Hunter Liggett is a beautiful post in California. I would suggest it to be a place for any outdoorsy person. The hills are gorgeous. The sunsets are breathless. The morning fog is beautiful and the history is awesome.

However - the post itself needs work. There's a tiny shoppette with odd hours. A commissary the size of a gas station. ONE gas station with 2 pumps. A bowling alley with 6 lanes and very good Mexican food. A small neighborhood for the ones stationed there and a beautiful hotel on the hill that we just stare at because we can't live there.

My first stay in the Army "minion" living quarters was ridiculous. These barracks were considered condemned for civilians but here I was. Lugging my huge duffle bag up four flights of stairs, nearly in tears when I came into the gnat infested bathroom covered in dust and grime. The room was decent, once I cleaned it. And after about an hour of scrubbing the bathroom ... I was able to go in there and not burst into tears. Though, the water would flood so by the time you were done with your 10 minute shower, you were now standing knee deep in water and filth.

Guys - we complained about the living quarters and what did they say to us? "Yeah, it's bad. It's considered inhabitable."

WTF.

Not to mention the broken ass door to the bathroom that someone got into a fight with in the middle of the night and just decided to keep it propped up and walk away ...

Pretty sure there will be a list put out within the next year or so for anyone who stayed on FHL's black mold infested barracks to get 20% disability just like the Iraq burn pits list that was released. No joke.

This past week, I was back at good ol' FHL and we got the privilege to live in the newer barracks that active duty normally stay in. I was pretty excited, until I found out there was no internet. (Even the condemned barracks had internet.) I know first world problems ... but I mean, we were expected to work out of our barracks ... and no internet. Sounds about right.

Also, the bathroom ... which had sensor lights would go black on you even when you were moving. The shower is a push button that runs scalding hot water on you for about a minute and then turns off. There's no temp control and you can only push the button about 4 times before it won't turn on anymore. Yeah ... fantastic. I never made it to more than 2 pushes on the button because my skin couldn't handle the 2nd degree burns and I just said "F it."

At 4am the lights to the entire building would magically come on and all we could do was cover our heads with the scratchy green blankets that were supplied to us (THANK GOODNESS).

I shared a room with a Master Sergeant who said when she arrived it was filthy and she had scrubbed the room down before I had arrived. There were no fridges or microwaves ... except one in the  common area on the other side of the building. People are staying here for days on end and you can't get them a fridge? Needless to say ... some black ops shit went down and we magically had a fridge and microwave appear. Though, a puddle of water also appeared under our acquired fridge the next morning that may have cause a slight panic as well ...

Guys, I complain. I know. But I can't make this shit up. The Army has been good to my family ... but it also has been shit. I guess that's how the world goes and you have to take the bad with the good.

Don't even get me started on the "Camp Crystal Lake" living quarters in the hills of FHL.

For everyone who thinks, "Be thankful my tax dollars are paying for all this." - Meh, not all that money is going to "spoil" us. We are roughing it. And you can believe me when I say this, I am one of the lucky ones. There are many other service members who have lived in dirt holes and ate horrible, stomach wrenching foods, bathed in unclean waters, and who have seen horrible things throughout their military careers. My complaints are moot compared to their struggles.

Thank a service member... even if never deployed - they've endured hell when it comes to living in barracks.

Accommodations Don't Have to be Made | My Hot Mess

I know this won't go over well with everyone ... shit, it really does't go over well with me. But I have been thinking on this subject and well -- it needs to be said.

News Flash:

I don't have to accommodate for you. 

GASP.

"But Shari, what do you mean? I need you bend to my every need and will."

Nope.

What if I told you, you don't have to accommodate for me.

"Whaaaaaaat?"

I know right?

In today's society, we are forced to be politically correct. We are forced to bend to everyone's needs and we forget that well ... unless the law tells us to, we really don't have to.

Is it morally right to do?

Sure.

Is it ethically right to do?

Yeah.

But do I have to do it?

Nope.

I don't have to hold the door open for you even though you're carrying five billion bags in your hands.

I don't have to move to the right when I see you walking down the path towards me to ensure there's room for both of us.

I don't have to wait in line for the bathroom.

I don't HAVE to give you a refund.

I don't have to apologize when I'm in the wrong. Shit, I don't even have to admit I was wrong.

I don't have to do anything for you.

But I will and I do.

It's morally the right thing to do. It makes me feel better about myself knowing that I helped out another person. I held that door open for you ... and even though you don't have to say thank you ... you should. I moved over to the right with my big ass double stroller to make room for you to jog by alone, you should at least smile at me - I know exercise and talking isn't my best quality but a smile should suffice. I waited in line for the bathroom because it was the right thing to do ... even though I had a pee-pee dancing toddler next to me. I gave you a refund because, even though in my contract I said no refund if the client cancels, because I want to practice good business skills and didn't wanna lose more clients because of the hassle. I apologized when I was wrong because you mean the world to me and I don't want to you lose you because of a stupid argument.

See? That's how it's supposed to work.

I'm not saying I'm a push over, but don't demand anything of me. Because I don't owe you a thing in this world. I simply stay polite and bite my tongue because this world needs a little more sunshine and lot less darkness right now.

Our society believes that they need everything handed to them. I'm not just talking about the millennials y'all. I love the millennials - those emo, punk loving, hippie millennials. I'm talking all of us.

I got pissed the other day because our cable service is totally a monopoly in our city and charges way too much, has not a lick of customer service, and basically I'm out an extra $50 because if I cancel with them, I won't have anymore internet or cartoons to babysit  keep my kids busy. I was PISSED. But again, the cable company owes me nothing (other than good customer service). I don't HAVE to use them, but it's kinda needed in my family. So I do. Do I like it? No. Would I recommend them to anyone? No. Are we going to use them when we move to another state? No. Are they practicing good business strategies?? No. But they don't owe me a damn thing.

So I'll sit here on my internet cursing their name BUT I accept that they suck. And it sucks. But life sometimes sucks too.

What am I blabbing about?

Just be nice to people! 

They don't owe you anything. You don't owe them. You don't know their life. They don't know yours.

Live you life and try to spread happiness rather than hate.

**Stepping off my soap box**

A Change in the Mix | My Hot Mess

We are in deep doo-doo here guys.

I haven't blogged in a while because, well, I did a thing.

Actually,

BIRTHED a thing.

A GIRL.

Guys, we have gone from a family of a husband, a wife, two boys, two male dogs and a male cat to adding another female in the mix.

A human baby girl.

I'm no longer a mommy of boys!

Not only do I have to get used to having three children, but I gotta get used to all the girlie things.

Which let's be honest, is amazing. Like, I'm not too set on society norms ... pink means girl, blue means boy kinda shit. But I mean, it IS different having a baby girl in the house now.

And I love it.

Like, my two loud, obnoxious, rough boys are learning to be gentle and more "soft."

.... As much as an ADHD hormonal boy can and a (now) FOUR year old can.

Maybe she will bring calm to our world. Sugar and Spice and Everything Nice -- right?

A momma can hope right?

Even up to my last night being pregnant, walking up to the hospital, I wasn't 100% convinced the tiny human growing inside me was a girl. After all... I had the shirt and all!

Sure, we had bought a few girlie things. An outfit here, a pink bow there ... but the majority of the "stuff" we got was still gender neutral (or hand me downs from the boys). I was just too afraid to commit to the ultra sound that said "Girl." I mean, after all, I WAS a momma of boys. 

People thought I was crazy when I posted the Instagram pic that said the gender was in an envelope and wouldn't be opened for another month or two until we had our photo session. 

"I couldn't last that long!"

"How are you not peeking at the envelope?"

"It would eat me up inside not knowing!"

It was fairly easy to not look at the envelope, one - I put it where it wasn't in plain view. Two - we went a whole pregnancy not knowing what my youngest was last time. We found out his gender when I pushed him out of my belly. And three - I was convinced it was a boy anyway.

So lemme tell you my surprise when this happened:

We let the boys spray silly string to let us know if we were having a boy or girl. I had bought both blue and pink string and covered both with silver paper so we wouldn't know once the lids were off. 

Our photographer looked at the envelope away from us to ensure we couldn't see her slip the lids off and on the count of three, we were dosed in pink silly string. 

I couldn't believe it. The photographer showed me the ultra sound ... and I still didn't believe it. LOL

I had to go back for another ultra sound due to little miss not wanting to show her profile for the doc in the first ultra sound, and even then they double checked her sex ... still a girl they said. But even then, there was no way I was having a girl. Why? Because I wanted a girl so bad, but I was a momma of boys. Every time someone asked if I knew what I was having, I'd respond, "They say a girl. But nothing is final until the baby comes out!" People would giggle, but I was completely serious. Completely.

And then this little nugget came out. The first thing I asked as everyone was oh-ing and aw-ing when she came out, "Is it a girl?" No one answered. My husband was misty eyed as they put her on my chest. I lifted her up and checked in between her legs, sure enough. I was a momma of a girl now.

Why am I telling y'all this? Because I feel like a brand new momma. Sure I have the experience of how to travel with a baby, change a diaper, breastfeed ... etc ... but I have a girl now. I've never experienced taking care of a girl... at least my own little princess. 

Guys, it really is different! I have to say "she," "her," and everything! LOL and "my little girl," "my daughter" everything is different. And I love it. I really can't explain it. The boys will always have a piece of my heart and the little one that didn't make it, BUT this little rainbow girl has got me wrapped around her finger already!

I will probably have a section just for her in the blog because she has her own story to share, along with her big brothers.

So bring on the pink bows, the unicorns, the princesses, the dolls and the glitter - I'm ready. And you better believe she'll be just as tough and rough as the boys because momma don't raise no sissy-la-las. 

When Do You Call It? | Wearing Stripes

That time has come again ....

The infamous call from the retention NCO from my unit.

"You're in your re-enlistment window SFC Wells ... what would you like to do?"

Well, frankly -- I don't want you to call me and remind me of this evil-ness. LOL 

I mean, that's what I really wanted to say.

I didn't, of course.

I answered truthfully though.

"I don't know."

I really don't.

I've done this Army thing for 14 years now. I'm in the home stretch. But 6 more years seems soooooo far away. And I mean, it really is. A lot can happen in 6 years.

I know for sure there will be another PCS back to Bragg. I know there will be a third child in the mix. I know I'm up for promotion again. I know I STILL haven't deployed and probably should do something about that in the near future ... I know I enjoy training new soldiers but I also know this:

• I hate having to ensure I hit my monthly quota of drills.
• I hate wearing the uniform in the heat.
• I hate all the paperwork I need to keep up with ... and all the slideshow presentations I need to sit through.
• I hate the "game" of the Army.
• I hate how annoying it is that drills seem to always fall on fun family outings or community events.
• I hate dealing with self-righteous senior-enlisted leaders who assume they're always right.
• I hate how I have to drop everything in my civilian life to accommodate the Army Reserve.
• I hate how the units' out there say they're looking out for their soldiers, but really it's all about the Army.
• And the biggest thing, even if I last to 20 years to retire, I can't touch my retirement pay (prorated because everything in the Reserve is prorated like you're a prorated soldier or something) until I'm 60/65 years old. What kinda BS is that?!

So what's the sense? 

Should I re-enlist?

Should I say F it?

Am I ready to say goodbye to quietly saying I'm a Reservist? I'm I ready to just be an Army spouse?

I just don't know.

I like showing my CAC card at the gate rather than my brown dependent card. It's a pride thing. It's little, but it makes me feel good when the gate guard welcomes me as "ma'am" then says goodbye with "Sergeant."

It's like, "yeah buddy ... I'm pretty badass and I'm a young ass SFC so bow to me..." 

No, I kid ... sorta. But it really is an ego booster when people are like "Oh! You're in the army too?"

Yeah bitches!

LOL ....

But as you can see, there's is a lot of "hates" that come with the "loves" and I just don't know if the loves outweigh the hates anymore.

How do you guys make big career decisions? 'Cause right now, I'm at a loss.

Get This Kid Off Me! | Raising the Boys

I'm not a first time mom, but I feel like I'm learning every single second of the day with my littlest. He is so different than my eldest AND he has me to himself all day long.

My eldest grew up in a daycare. 

I hate that term. 

But none-the-less, he did.

Both parents who were full-time soldiers, working 6am - 5pm (give or take), the kid had to be taken care of for those long hours Monday through Friday.

Can't just stay home alone.

Now, let me reiterate. He GREW up in a daycare, he wasn't RAISED by daycare. He was raised by his mother and father. He just happened to grow taller, talk better, and socialize at daycare for almost 7 years.

So full time moms and dads - don't let anyone say someone, or some institute RAISED your child(ren), you did. No one else. 

You just had a little help.

Side note: When I made the decision to not be a full time soldier anymore, I had my commander AND my first sergeant say, and I quote, "Good to hear, your son shouldn't be raised by strangers." I was so dumbfounded that both of my leaders would say something like that to a young soldier who really didn't want to give up her career. How dare they say, a) I would leave my child with STRANGERS -- uh no, I actually checked out the daycare and vetted the staff very closely to take care of my little bundle of joy; and b) that they assumed that I don't RAISE my child, but relied on someone else to. Uh - again, he was there at daycare all day, but I still fed him, bathed him, taught him his ABCs, taught him to potty, taught him right from wrong, spent all morning and evenings loving him and weekends were a blast. So don't you dare let anyone say that daycare RAISED you or your child. END VENT

Back to my actual post topic:

I never really had an issue dropping my eldest off at daycare or at someone's house for few hours , because face it, he was used to it. 

"Oh mom has to go to work. See you soon Mom."

My littlest - this is a different story.

I'm proud to say I have a momma's boy.

I'm not proud to say that he may be my favorite.

Oh come on - I know, no parent is supposed to have a favorite. I know. But I know you do. ;) Listen, I'm not going to be his buddy for long, he won't cuddle me, or kiss me, or hug me much longer. So I'm holding onto this as much as possible. As soon as he gets his preteen attitude, he will no longer be my favorite. (PS, My eldest was my favorite at three years old too. So don't go looking down on me or saying I'm a horrible mother for having favorites.)

 Listen, I KNOW you have a kid or two that you enjoy just hanging out with because they don't argue or make annoying sounds or whatever. LOL PLUS, when my toddler is having a tantrum ... he is no longer my favorite. So there.

In NC, before we moved to TX, my littlest was really good at being left at an hourly daycare. I do think it helped that his brother was there too. Even if he had to go to our daily daycare, at least he knew his brother was in the big kids room.

Well, here - my littlest is a nightmare to leave at a daycare near my home. He immediately says he doesn't want to go to "school." But he follows me into the building. I sign him in, he's busy grabbing everything off the counter, I pay the daycare ... and then grab his hand to walk him to the room. 

This is when all hell breaks loose.

He screams, he cries, he toddlers (lets his legs go loose and I end up dragging him). Usually the teacher is reading a book or singing to the kids ... she has to get up (interrupting learning) to come grab my littlest from my arms. I give a quick kiss and tell him I'll be back soon.

As I walk out the building, I can hear his screams echoing down the hall.

I feel bad. I do. But I know it has to happen. He will be starting real school soon and he needs to separated from me. He needs to know he can survive in someone else's care and I'll always come back.

I called my friend back in NC and almost cried on the phone explaining to her the situation. She listened and then she explained her experiences. And said, "kiss him, say you'll be back, and go." She said, he'll more than likely stop crying within 10 minutes and be just fine. And I know this is true because when I go to pick him up, he doesn't want to leave. But man, that stinker had me in tears that morning feeling bad for him.

Lately, he still says he doesn't want to go to school, I mean, who does? But he looks up at me with those big gorgeous blue/green eyes and says, "I'm not gonna cry momma. Imma big boy."

He's learning. He's socializing. And I get to breath without a toddler crawling all over me. I get to sit here and blog, edit my photos, workout, and house clean. I mean, I can do that with him here too, but there's always an interruption - a tv channel change, a snack needed, a "get outta the office kid, you're making a mess." LOL

And it's a great feeling to see his face lighten up when he comes in through the house door with daddy and exclaims, "mommy!" 

And I get the biggest bear hug a 3 foot toddler can give.

Good luck y'all, it gets easier. And remember, each child is different. Take each day at a time. What happened yesterday, may not happen today. Good or bad. You've got this!

Toddler from Hell | Raising the Boys

You ever go to  a doctor's appointment and leave thinking, "Well that was the most pointless appointment in the world?"

Yeah, that just happened.

Let me set the scene:

4am - toddler wakes up and does NOT ... like NOPE ... want to go back to bed. 

415am - said toddler goes into brother's room "Pst! PST! You 'wake?"

430am - I hear said toddler shuffle up to my bed.

433am - I drag said toddler back into his room, him crying, and place him back in bed with a book.

5am - said toddler is quiet.

530am - said toddler is awake again, trying to get brother's attention

545am - both boys are awake and playing in brother's room

6am - (normal time to wake up for school but because we have a doctor's appt, we really don't have to be up until 645am) Big brother is bored and wants to go in front room.

605am - Me, "NO! stay in your room and be quiet!"

610am - Big brother, "but I'm hungry!"

615am - Boys are giggling in brother's room, and I don't care. Just as long as I get to sleep a little longer.

630am - Big brother, "Mom ... Mom ..."     Me, "go away. do you want me to be grumpy?"

635am - toddler screams, I get up and the chaos begins.

640am-715am - brother needs to dress, eat, take meds, clean the mess he and his brother made. Toddler needs fed, dressed and he too needs to pick up his room that he and his brother messed up. I am making snacks for the road trip.

725am - we get in car. head the 20 mins to hospital. But traffic occurs and I take the gateway instead, but that wasn't any quicker as EVERYONE was on the gateway because the highway was backed up. But not as bad as the gateway, so I should've just stayed behind the huge semi carrying 5 billion cars.

750am - I'm about 10 minutes away, and that's good because the appointment is in 10 mins.

758am - enter the hospital entrance just to be called out of the gate entrance for a "random" inspection. I express my frustrations to the MPs, they check the car after I open all doors, the trunk and the hood, and look up the insurance on the phone mobily. (if that's a word)

805am - enter hospital garage.

810am - walk down stairs because elevator is too slow. Enter hospital.

810am-818am - wander around the "first floor" trying to find said doctor office only to find out the floor we entered on (ground level) is actually level 3. So we go down one set of stairs ... wander, then another set (because we didn't know it was level three until we went down the first set of stairs. 

818am - finally get into the doctor office 18 minutes late. He takes us straight in. 

You'd think the story ends there. 

Welp. It doesn't.

Now, my eldest (who has ADHD) has been having other physical issues due to either his meds, diet, mental, .... whatever. So this appointment was to talk to a nutritionist about his diet. I thought it was a good idea and was referred to it by the regular medical doctor as an option.

I mean, if this doc can give some insight to what's going on with my eldest, shit, I'll take the advice.

All throughout the appointment, the doc only spoke to me. My eldest complained he was bored (even though he brought TWO Harry Potter books to read). The toddler touched every single piece of equipment the doctor had.

Every time I corrected the toddler, the toddler would scream. And not like a little shrill, no. Like a full blown scream that rattled the ear drums.

I gave in and gave the phone to the toddler to play games or watch movies. But nope, he kept pushing buttons that messed up the game or stopped the movie. Eldest would "try to help" but in reality he'd just play the game while his little brother screamed because he wanted the phone back.

After about 10 minutes of this, I took the phone away. Thus adding more screams, tears, and tantrums.

The doctor talked to me about proper nutrition, what he should and shouldn't be eating.

And that was it. I was out of the office within 15 minutes.

Guys.

I've heard this schpill 5 billion times already by the other 8 doctors my eldest has seen. The medical doctor. The psychiatrist. The psychologist. The behavior therapist. The GI. The nurse that took the blood pressure .... I mean. What was the point of this appointment?

I thought maybe it was to start a food diary. Or make a meal plan. Or do weekly check ins about meals.

SOMETHING.

But no, that was it.

All that stress, and I don't feel any closer to a solution than I did when I first started this journey. And really, my son didn't need to miss school for this. I had to wait a month to see this doctor, take the kid outta school, and for what? Nothing.

Because of the move, this "issue" that my son has been having has had to restart with everything because each doctor doesn't want to call up the other to ask about progress or what has been going on to deter the issue already. I have offered phone numbers multiple times. Each wants to make their own diagnostic and be the hero.

When in reality, all I want is a solution.

Shit. It took 2 flipping months for my son to finally get prescribed the ADHD meds he needs to focus in school. In which he's been going to school without meds because .... ahem ... military healthcare insurance is great because it's "free" BUT it takes flipping forever to get anything accomplished.

Sigh.

I want to pull my hair out.

I want to go to bed, pull the sheets over my head, and go to sleep ...

for like a MONTH.

Sleeping Beauty had it right. I should prick my finger on the sewing machine I'm pulling out today to make the kids Halloween costumes and fall into a slumber for a month.

Shit, I'll take 10 hours. 

I'll put a note taped to my forehead to my husband that says, "don't kiss me awake until Oct 1."

That'd be the life huh?

But then I'd miss all the giggles, all the hugs and kisses. All the important moments in growing up and all the love they share with me.

It truly is, a catch 20.

Good luck y'all ... and remember there's always chocolate.