Our Story (as I remember it)

Sixteen years ago I was attending community college, living at home with my family, and working 3 jobs to save money and pay for school. I was on track to finish community college, move on to a university and continue my degree in Political Science with hopes of eventually going to Law School and becoming a lobbyist in D.C.

My political science classes were filled with many others who had similar goals, but very different opinions. There was one particular person in my classes who was extremely outspoken in his opinions and unfortunately for me was a teacher’s pet.

So I sat in the back of these classes, dreaming of moving out, going to a big school, and ignoring the long-haired hippie that monopolized the class with his personal political beliefs. I just wanted an A and a diploma so I could move on.

One day in February I walked into class feeling particularly down. I had just broken up with my boyfriend and was having a little pity party for myself. Long-haired hippie asked what was wrong (I think this was the first time we had spoken to each other) so I told him and he replied that he had also just broken up with his girlfriend too. He then jokingly mentioned something about us going out to which I thought, not in a million years buddy, but on the outside smiled politely and busied myself in a book.

February passed and some time in March I missed a class where we had watched a movie. Since we had to write up a commentary about the movie for a grade I needed to find a way to watch the movie on my own. It just so happened that long-haired hippie owned this movie so he offered to let me come over and watch it one day after school.

I arrived at long-haired hippie’s apartment and knocked on the door. I was a bit nervous being a twenty-year old female, alone in an apartment complex, going to someone’s house that I only knew casually in class, and I thought was extremely weird. I waited at the door and knocked again.

The door finally swung open and standing there was a tall thin stranger with dark mangled hair and a crazed stare. I stared at the stranger thinking I was at the wrong apartment and he stared at me, sort of….

Our Story ~ Part Two or Why I Should Have High Tailed it Out of the Apartment Complex

I stood at the door contemplating whether I should start running or start talking. I decided to talk…. before I could say anything a figure appeared down the hall in a green plaid bathrobe and a green facial mask. I was taken aback at long-haired hippie’s new look, but relieved that I had arrived at the correct apartment.

Long-haired hippie invited me in and I sat on the couch nervously as tall, dark and strange continued to stare at me blankly. Finally long-haired hippie was presentable and I was ready to watch the movie and get the heck out of there. As soon as long-haired hippie started the movie and tall dark and strange had disappeared I started talking. “What is up with your roommate?” Long-haired hippie informed that his roommate was legally blind, which explained the strange blank stare. I mentioned something about it would have been nice if I you would have told me that before I showed up at your door… and then started to watch the movie.

The movie was probably the strangest I had ever seen. It had subtitles (which I still dislike) and no plot which I could discern, and was exceptionally boring. I made sure long-haired hippie knew how much I disliked this movie by commenting throughout the movie on how ridiculous I thought it was. After the movie I left, grateful that I would never have to experience that sort of torture again.

Apparently, going to the apartment meant that now long-haired hippie and I were friends. Over the next few weeks there was small talk between the two of us before and after class, but I still couldn’t stand his political treatise with which he continued to monopolize my classes.

Around the beginning of April we were given our final assignment for the class. I can’t really remember what the assignment was, but I remember having no clue what the teacher wanted. I am a “rule” girl. I love rules, facts, deadlines, order, and goals! Since this class was called Post Modern Positions, it had none of those things. I needed an A in this class and I knew long-haired hippie and the teacher were buddies so I begged for his help on this project. He convinced me to create a photo collage and promised me it would secure an A for the class. Over the next few weeks long-haired hippie and I rode around town taking random pictures, I was still unsure how this would get me an A, but I trusted long-haired hippie’s judgment.

The more time I spent with long-haired hippie the less irritating he became to me. Under those crazy and completely misguided political beliefs was a nice guy who was insanely funny. I think I laughed harder during our rides around Orlando than I had in my entire life.

In the beginning of May I asked long-haired hippie to drive me to the airport. I planned on flying to Pennsylvania to visit an old boyfriend who had potential to become a new boyfriend. Both my parents worked and I needed a ride in the middle of the day. He agreed and the week before my trip hung out with me at the mall helping me pick out the perfect outfit to wear on the airplane.

The day of the flight I was nervous (not a big fan of airplanes). Long-haired hippie picked me up and we headed to the airport. During the ride long-haired hippie was talking a lot, and mentioned that he was planning on going back into the Navy. He said he didn’t feel like his life was going in the right direction and thought the Navy life had been good for him before and perhaps it would be good for him again. As he was talking I realized that this person, who I had judged way too quickly, was actually a really great guy that just needed a kick in the pants.

As we sat at the terminal (remember those days) we continued to talk and I told him that I thought it was a great idea to join the Navy, it would provide direction, and money, both of which he needed. This is where the story gets a bit fuzzy…. at some point during the Navy talk, long-haired hippie looked me straight in the eye and said…..

Our Story ~ Part Three Or Why You Should Never Let Boys with Long Hair Take Your Daughters to the Airport

“Will You Marry Me?”

Are you shocked, because I was… after long-haired hippie spoke those words I rambled on and on about why he would not want to marry me. I mean here is the person who I had really only known for about six weeks asking me to marry him. Oh, and did I mention that the whole reason I was at the airport was to fly to see someone else!!! I can’t remember my exact words, but the words “high maintenance” were spoken many times.

I am not sure how much time passed before they started boarding the plane, but it seemed like forever. Time tends to slow down when someone you hardly know asks you to marry them in an airport. When it was time to board I said good-bye hurried to the gate. I then had two hours to contemplate what in the world had just happened. Did long-haired hippie really just ask me to marry him? Was he serious? Why in the world would he want to marry me?

The plane ride is a blur, except that it was the most turbulent flight I have ever been on. People were praying and crying and I think most people thought the plane would crash. I kept thinking that I was going to be the person that should have gotten off the plane, but didn’t. I mean I did have a good excuse to not board… did I miss my chance to escape death in a plane crash because I didn’t say yes to a marriage proposal from a someone I hardly knew?

Obviously the plane did not crash, because I am writing this 16 years later, but the flight did make me start to question the entire situation. When I landed and saw Pennsylvania boy he made the gigantic mistake of not commenting on the outfit I had worked so hard to pick out… I realize this sounds really petty and shallow, but I was 20… forgive me. PA boy then made the second gigantic mistake of telling me he had a great surprise for me… we were going on a camp out with all of his buddies.

I realize I speak highly of camping on this site, but 16 years ago camping was the last thing in the world I ever wanted to do. I didn’t like dirt, bugs, or not being able to take a shower every day, actually I still don’t like those things, but I have gained tolerance since God gave me three boys. The camping was miserable, and I spent the entire time wondering what on earth was I doing there in PA with someone who thought it would be a good idea to take me, camping.

As soon as I had access to a phone (remember life without cellphones) I called long-haired hippie. The conversation went something like this…

“Remember that thing you asked me in the airport?”

“Yes”

“Did you mean it?”

“Yes”

“Okay, well I’m in.”

Then I hung up the phone. Can you believe how incredibly romantic I am? This conversation continued on a daily basis for the rest of the week that I was in Pennsylvania. Although the subsequent conversations went more like…

“Still good to go?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, talk to you tomorrow.”

Finally the day before I was flying home I came to my senses (okay not really, does anyone actually believe I was operating at any level of sanity here?) I called him and said something like…

“When do you want to do this?”

“I don’t know?”

“Okay, well how about you pick me up from the airport and we can do it then?”

I had just agreed to get married… to someone I hardly knew.

Our Story ~ Part Four or How to Have a Frugal Wedding

As I left the plane long-haired hippie was not there to pick me up. Where was he, was this all a joke, did he get cold feet, or was this my golden opportunity to come to my senses, take a bus home and go back to life as I knew it.

Before I had time to come to any conclusions long-haired hippie arrived, breathless and carrying a bouquet of flowers. Apparently he took a wrong turn driving to the airport and was delayed. The rest of the afternoon is a blur although I remember driving to the same place I had recently paid a speeding ticket, signing some papers and then reciting something about all my earthly possessions and till death do us part. Honestly, death didn’t seem too far off because soon after I was married (less than two hours after getting off the plane) I came to the realization that….

MY PARENTS WERE GOING TO KILL ME!

Did I forget to mention that my parents had no idea that their first born was secretly plotting to get married to someone she barely knew and who they didn’t know at all? And did I forget to mention that long-haired hippie was an atheist and my parents were former missionaries?

I had only been married about 3 seconds when all of this became very clear. What was I thinking, did I seriously just marry this guy? Am I going to have to move in with blind crazy guy who never brushed his hair? Is long-haired hippie really going to keep his promise of going back into the Navy? Did I just throw away my college plans?

I realized that I had to tell my parents as soon as possible because every second that passed I felt sicker and sicker about the mess I had just created. We drove to my parents’ house, and to illustrate how this is probably the absolute worst moment in my life, even as I type this 16 years later I still feel sick about it! When we arrived, my parents were not home. My little brother was though, so I decided I could tell him and practice the death march.

When I told my brother (who was 17 at the time) a slow grin came over his face. I am not sure, but he was probably thinking that no matter how much trouble he ever got in for the rest of his life, it would be nothing compared to what his big sis had just done. I had just given him a get out of jail free card for the rest of his life!

Telling my brother really did nothing to calm my completely stressed out self, so we ended up going to dinner with long-haired hippie’s family. I spent the entire meal trying to figure out a way to tell my parents that I had just gotten married in a way that wouldn’t upset them. Yes, I was insane at this point. As the meal ended I knew the time had come to meet my fate and go back home (well, I guess it was my old home) and drop the bomb.

My family greeted me with smiles and hugs. Everyone was anxious to hear how my trip to Pennsylvania had been. We all gathered in the family room and my family listened as I recounted my trip. Long-haired hippie sat next to me in silence on the love seat (ironic isn’t it?). The small talk went on for about 45 minutes, which was probably the longest 45 minutes of my life. I couldn’t quite bring myself to tell my family what I had done.

Finally I said something like, “Well, I got married.” Then I passed out. Okay, kidding, I didn’t pass out, but I wish I would have in order to miss what happened next.

My father, very calmly said, “To someone we know?”

Long haired-hippie raised his hand and said, “Me.”

I think they would have been happier had I married Osama Bin Laden… my sister immediately started crying. My dad settled into his seat in preparation for what was to come and I can’t remember exactly what my mother said, but I am sure it was nice and encouraging… because that is just the kind of person she is.

My brother sat in his seat smiling…..

Honestly the rest of the night is a blur, and for that I am thankful. My dad never raised his voice, although I am sure he wanted to kill one of us… probably long-haired hippie, but who knows. After a few minutes my dad looked long-haired hippie straight in the eye and said,

“Did you know she listens to Rush Limbaugh?”

And of course he didn’t know that I listened to Rush, because, well we didn’t know each other. Long-haired hippie looked at me with surprise. We had been married for about 3 hours and our first argument was going to be over Rush, this was starting so well.

My dad then spent what seemed like an eternity telling us why we couldn’t get married. The sad part was I agreed with 95% of what he was saying, but because I hate to be wrong, I argued against most of his points.

Finally my mom looked at my dad and said something about him needing to stop talking because what was done was done and nothing he said could change anything. Then she got up from her seat, walked towards long-haired hippie and said,

“Welcome to the family!”

And with that she walked over and gave dh (long-haired hippie) a big hug.

It was around this time I realized I wasn’t going to be sleeping at parent’s house that night, even though I really wanted to. I couldn’t imagine going back to the dirty apartment occupied by a crazy blind man with someone I didn’t really know. Why this thought didn’t occur to me 12 hours earlier I am not sure, but nonetheless my dad made it clear that I had created this mess and I was going to live with it. I went to my old room, packed a few things and left the house, wondering if I would ever be welcome there again.

Moving Out, Moving In and Moving Out

Over the next several days I stopped by my parents’ house to pick up my things and take them to my new home. I avoided going over when I knew my dad was going to be home because I just couldn’t take how disappointed he was in me. (Although I deserved every bit of it)

There were a few times dh and I went over together and everyone was home. My dad would sit on the couch, watch television and pretend no one else was in the room. It was incredibly uncomfortable.

As for me, I was settling into my role as The unHappy Housewife. I didn’t know how to cook when I got married, and dh was a vegetarian. I quickly learned how to make a two meals, beans and cornbread – can of beans, box of cornbread mix and frozen pizza – unwrap, bake and serve.

Meanwhile, crazy blind guy was driving me crazy. You see, crazy blind guy was legally blind as defined by the social security administration which meant he could actually see up close, but could not see well enough to drive. He also belonged to some weird sect at our college that didn’t believe in using chemicals or wearing shoes. This meant that crazy blind guy always smelled disgusting and the apartment was filthy since he didn’t wear shoes and only rinsed his feet. I refused to clean up after this guy, so the apartment grew dirtier and dirtier.

One week night, my now always smiling brother had a baseball game. I convinced dh to come to the game even though we knew my family would be there. Dh knew nothing about baseball and I grew up in a family that thought nachos were their own food group. We arrived at the game and took a spot on the bleachers close to my family.

As the game went on somehow my dad and dh ended up sitting next to each other. Then something amazing happened, I looked over and my dad was actually speaking to dh! God had softened my dad’s heart towards dh and he was actually laughing and joking as he sat next to him. Now, my dad is a guy who loves a good practical joke, and I think he knew he had some fresh bait, as his own children had stopped falling for his pranks years ago. Realizing very quickly that dh didn’t know the difference between a baseball and a basketball, my dad was feeding dh lines to yell at the ump. Dh, wanting to create peace in my family, shouted out whatever my dad told him to say. Every bad pitch and poor call was addressed in a loud voice by dh from the stands. My dad sat there chuckling as he feed dh line after line. As we said our goodbyes after the game I had a feeling things were starting to change.

My mother-in-law, who loves parties, insisted we have some sort of reception to celebrate our wedding. My parents, who were just starting to warm up to dh offered to host this reception since no one had any money to do anything different. The reception was attended by old friends and family. It wouldn’t have surprised me if there was some betting going around behind our backs regarding how long this so called marriage was going to last.

After the reception, we headed to Tampa for our “honeymoon.” It was wonderful getaway at none other than Busch Gardens and accompanying us was my husband’s best friend from the Navy. He had come down for the reception and dh wanted to spend time with him while he was in town. Can you say romantic? My honeymoon picture was a automated camera shot of the three of us on the first drop of the Kumba roller coaster.

Needless to say I was quickly getting fed up with a filthy apartment,  crazy roommate, a honeymoon for three, plus the fact that dh didn’t have a real job (he was currently employed as a daytime bartender making about $3 a day). I was working at a local restaurant almost full time paying the bills, while dh stayed at home and did…. well I don’t really know what he did, but I wasn’t happy.

Finally after we had been married about 3 weeks I laid down the law. I told him he better get a real job, get a haircut, and oh by the way, I was moving out. I called my parents and either told or asked them, I can’t remember, that I was moving back in. There was only one slight problem, my dad had turned my bedroom into an office. I didn’t really care, I was willing to sleep on the couch to get away from the mess I had created.

The Summer in Which I Became Frugal and Long-Haired Hippie ate Meat

Twenty-four days after I married long-haired hippie and moved out, I moved back in. Since I didn’t have a bedroom anymore I ended up moving into the living room, and dh came along too. This arrangement was less than ideal since the living room was the first room you saw when you entered my parent’s home. My mom hung up a sheet for privacy and we we moved all our earthly possessions into our new “home.”

This new living arrangement probably encouraged my dh to get moving on the whole get back in the Navy thing. Less than three weeks after moving in with my parents long-haired hippie became a short-haired petty officer. He was temporarily assigned duty in Jacksonville, FL while he awaited permanent orders. He stayed in Jacksonville during the week and drove home to Orlando on the weekends.

I spent the rest of the summer moving around Florida. For a few weeks I lived in dh’s grandparent’s empty condo in Tampa. This was nice except I had nothing to do during the week, no car, and no friends. This was also when I figured out dh wasn’t too good with money.

One thing dh neglected to tell me before we got married, although I don’t fault him for this- there wasn’t time,  is that he had accumulated a large amount of debt during his single years. We decided not to declare bankruptcy and to try and pay it off. This meant that most of his tiny military paycheck went to debt payments. I remember one Sunday night in Tampa, before he was returning to Jacksonville we counted out our money for the week. We had $7.62. Fortunately the car had a full tank of gas, but we didn’t have much food in the condo. I quickly learned about a grocery budget and purchased a few boxes of tuna helper and a few cans of tuna fish to last through the week. I felt bad dh’s first meal as a meat eater was tuna helper, but times were tough.

There was another time when dh took me to his favorite restaurant in Miami. Things were wonderful until it was time to pay the bill. It was only then that dh realized he left every penny we had under a mattress three hours away. I thought I would be washing dishes in Little Havana for the next week, but then remembered I had $30 in an old bank account. I pulled all of it out of the ATM in order to pay the bill and we quickly drove three hours in the other direction to retrieve our life savings.

I was very excited about dh’s rejoining the military (yes, I was naive). He told me about all the great places we could live and all the opportunities available for military spouses. I was shocked when he received orders to Panama, because to me that did not qualify as a great place to live. I was absolutely not prepared to move out of the country. In fact, dh had told me that there was no way we would receive orders to Panama because they were closing the base. He was wrong. I told him I wasn’t going to move to some third world country and he could go without me.  Dh begged me to go and told me there would be many opportunities for me to finish my degree, get a job, and see the rain forest. Finally, I agreed to go.

Dh needed to leave for Panama in a few short weeks and we quickly found out I could not go with him until he was assigned a house, which could be a month or longer. We heard through the grapevine that there were flights from Panama to Key West on a regular basis. Dh had a Navy buddy who lived in Key West so I decided to move in with him and dh could fly to the Keys on the weekend. We loaded up a small moving van and drove all night from Tampa to Key West. At some point during the summer we had also acquired two cats, and at a later point in the summer I discovered I am not a cat person. I remember trying desperately to stay awake during the all night drive. Fortunately I had two screeching cats in the back seat of the car to keep me awake.

We arrived in Key West and I settled in to my 4th home that summer. It didn’t take long for me to realize that dh’s Navy buddy lived like a pig and I didn’t want to live there. I was afraid to leave our stuff and the cats with the guy so I stayed. Meanwhile dh flew off to Panama and found out there were no such flights to Key West. I needed no more incentive to get the heck out of Key West so I called the movers, had our stuff packed, put on a boat to Panama and moved back into my parent’s house.

I spent the rest of the summer waiting for dh to be assigned a house in Panama. Finally in September he was assigned a house and I would be leaving for my tropical paradise in less than a week, or so I thought.

Panama

It took about ten seconds once the plane landed in Panama for me to realize I wanted to take the next plane back to the States. No one spoke English, or at least they pretended not to, and the airport was not very passenger friendly. I wandered around helpless until I saw a long line of people and decided to join them, in hopes that it would lead me out of the terminal. After what seemed like hours, but was probably only 30 minutes, I was through the line and on my way out of the airport. Dh and a friend (the one who was driving us to our house) were waiting for me near the exit.

As soon as I stepped outside I was met with the most intense humidity I had ever felt in my life. Everyone was covered with a sheen of sweat and soon I was too. I got in the car which of course had no air conditioning and prepared for the 2.5 hour drive to the other side of the country. As we drove through Panama City, I talked nonstop about how much I already didn’t like it and made sure to point out every flaw and problem. Then we entered the “country.” My constant complaining was silenced by the extreme poverty that surrounded me. We passed neighborhoods in which every house was made from cardboard boxes. Garbage piled ten feet high lined the streets and the medians. Dogs ran wild and children did too.

My shock turned to terror as we then began passing checkpoints with Panamanian armed guards, and it became obvious there was a good way and a bad way to make it through the roadblocks. The good way involved pretending to speak no Spanish (even though dh is fluent) and the exchange of some money. The bad way… well I did not want to find out.

At some point we reached the Panama Canal. I thought this would be the highlight of the drive until I realized that if you arrived at the canal at the wrong time you could sit in your car for up to two hours while ships passed through the locks. I probably don’t have to tell you that we arrived at the wrong time. By the time we started moving again I was a complete sweaty, scared mess that wanted to close my eyes, tap my heels together 3 times and end up back in Kansas.

Finally we reached the base, I was relieved since now I would be living under the protection of the US Army, but of course I was wrong again. The base was guarded by the Panamanians and was open to everyone. As we entered the gate the driver started telling me stories about all the recent break-ins that had occurred on the base. I decided right then I was never leaving the house without dh. My only hope was that we didn’t own anything worth stealing anyway.

As we drove through the windy roads of the base I started noticing how beautiful and green everything looked. I guess 100% humidity is great for the environment. The flowers were the brightest colors, the trees a deep green, it started to resemble paradise and I forgot for a moment that I was melting in the back seat.  Then out of nowhere I was jolted out of my fleeting fantasy. Large cinder block buildings appeared around the corner. They were old, but more importantly bullet holes marred every building. Apparently this base was occupied by the Panamanians when we invaded a few years earlier. The ransacked barracks still stood vacant along the road. I couldn’t help but wonder what happened to those who had lived in those barracks, did they live, did they die, did they leave behind a family?

Finally we pulled up to the house. It was a yellowish color stilt house with a tile roof. I remembered thinking it was pretty, sort of… then I noticed that under the house there was a carport that also housed the washer and dryer. As I walked by I remember thinking that since I had already decided I would never leave the house alone, dh better get use to doing the laundry. The washer and dryer were covered with a film of dead bugs and other items I didn’t want to touch. I hurried up the flight of stairs ready to see my new home and lock myself inside it for the next two years.

My First Attempt as The Happy Housewife

Needless to say I did not arrive in Panama with the best attitude. It was not what I expected and I did not handle the disappointment very well. I soon found out that there were no jobs available and that the college was over 2 hours away on the other side of the country. (Remember the days before online classes?) I set out on my first attempt as The Happy Housewife.

The problem was, I didn’t know how to be a housewife. When I first arrived in Panama, our house was furnished with loaner furniture from the Army. Those of you who have lived with loaner furniture know what I am talking about. Our bed consisted of a mattress on the floor, 2 flat sheets and one pillow each. We had a couch, a table, and a few dishes. I tried to make do with the situation knowing our furniture would arrive soon, but it was very lonely all day in a nearly empty house while dh worked crazy shift hours.

I tried ironing his uniforms while he was at work, except I didn’t know how to iron. During one attempt I actually broke the VCR (a loaner) while trying to iron. How can you break a VCR while ironing, I am not sure, but somehow I flipped the iron off the ironing board and it soared through the air landing on the cord to the VCR, burning through the cord as well as pulling the VCR off the television onto the floor. The young broke newlyweds now had to buy someone a new VCR.

I tried cooking, but I didn’t know how to make anything. Our dinners consisted of fettucini alfredo, hot dogs, and frozen pizza. All other meals were cereal. I was too afraid to go to the grocery store by myself (plus I didn’t have a car) so our trips would involve dh and I walking cluelessly through the aisles, with our ration cards (remember those) and always ending up with the exactly same things in our cart. Hot dogs, noodles, Parmesan cheese, and 17 boxes of Lucky Charms. During Thanksgiving I tried to make food for the sailors and soldiers, but ended up spray painting the walls with potatoes and eating raw turkey for dinner. I was such a bad cook I didn’t realize our oven was broken for over 2 months!

When we found out of furniture had arrived I was so excited. I could finally decorate, rearrange and start playing house. Except (and I am not exaggerating ) every piece of furniture we owned had been damaged by the movers. It was terrible. I was in tears as box after box was unloaded and I was pulling out our dented, scratched, and broken possessions. The legs had been broken off our chairs, huge rips covered the back of our couch, and our dining room table had warped so badly you almost couldn’t set anything on top of it without it sliding off.

I tried to bury my frustration on our now house full of broken stuff by painting. I had this brilliant idea to paint our entire downstairs bubble gum pink. I knew that regular painting wouldn’t look right so I decided to sponge paint. After about 3 and a half walls I decided the sponge painting was just too hard so I gave up. The rest of our time there was spent in a house with partially painted pink walls.Dh said he felt like he was living inside a bottle of Pepto-Bismol.

As for dh and I, and I am sure this will shock you, we couldn’t spend five minutes together without arguing. I found out quickly that marrying someone you don’t know at all, may not be such a good idea. He worked all the time and I was bored, scared, alone, and resentful of the situation. When he would come home from work I would be dying for someone to talk to and he would be dying to go to sleep. Since he works rotating shifts much of his sleep time was during the day while I was awake. I would usually let him sleep for two or three hours and then wake him up because I was so bored. Needless to say he wasn’t very happy with this habit of mine.

After a few weeks I found out there was a library on base so dh took me and I checked out every book I could. I have always been an avid reader and I was actually excited to have something to do with my time. The only problem was that I started to read Tom Clancy novels. They always seemed to be set in a third world jungle somewhere and I couldn’t help but relate these to my life. I would read all night and then lay in bed petrified that undercover agents or bad guys would come crashing through my door to kidnap me. I stopped sleeping.

One night as I lay in bed alone (dh was at work) I was trying not to think of everything bad that could happen to me. Just as I had calmed myself down I heard the doorknob turn on the front door. I completely panicked. I knew I was going to be kidnapped or killed. I tried to think of a plan, but I couldn’t even move. I laid there paralyzed in fear as I heard men’s voices in my downstairs. Then I heard footsteps coming up the stairs towards my room. I braced myself for what would happen to me… the door swung open, and standing there covered from head to toe in mud, uniform ripped, and looking quite upset. Not nearly as upset as I was since I thought he was there to kill me.

Turns out our car had broken down on the road to his work. This road was notoriously dangerous and dh was not too happy that he was stuck. He decided the best course of action would be to run the rest of the way to work and hope that someone passed him and offered help. Not only was the road dangerous it was in the middle of the jungle so there were all sorts of animals hiding in the dark as well. During his run for help dh fell into a huge pothole and ruined his uniform, became bathed in mud and bloodied his knees. Finally he was picked up by another sailor who drove him back home to get a clean uniform and return to work.

Except there were no clean uniforms. Remember my outside washer and dryer, I wasn’t kidding when I said I wasn’t going to use them. Laundry at our house would pile up until dh ran out of clothes and decided to wash something. So dh and his friend had to wait while he did a load of laundry in order to have a clean uniform to wear to work for the rest of the night.Dh was not happy, and I was not happy that he had scared me to death and ruined a nice uniform.

Unhappiness was a theme over the next few months. I found out that dh and I were complete opposites and not the kind that attract. We fought and bickered over everything from housework to food to music. It was a strange feeling because I was truly growing to dislike dh with all my heart and yet I would wait anxiously for him to return home from work so I could have someone to talk to. Even fighting was better than silence and our fights were anything but silent. I soon found out that dh had a temper like none I had ever seen and I was not one to back down from a fight and certainly not lose one. I remember screaming matches so terrible that dh would actually lose his voice. I would lock myself in the bathroom and cry for hours.

I tried to plot my escape but I didn’t know what to do. No one back in the states seemed to understand how bad it was and I didn’t have any place to go. No friends, no family, I was truly alone. The stress was more than I could take, and one day while taking a shower I started to feel faint and almost passed out.Dh took me the doctor and I that is when we learned I was pregnant….

The Key

A few years earlier in my life I decided rather foolishly to move out. On the way out the door I attempted to remove the house key from my key ring and return it to my father. He handed it back to me and told me no matter what, I could always come home.

So, I was pregnant, unhappy, and scared. For those of you who have lived on small military bases you are probably familiar with a little thing called gossip. This base excelled at gossip and it wasn’t long after I found out I was pregnant that everyone I met told me a horror story about some lady who just had a baby. It went a little something like this;

Person I hardly knew: Hi UnHappy Housewife, I heard you were pregnant.

Me: Um, yes.

Person I hardly knew: Did you hear about Phil’s wife?

Me: Um, no…

Person I hardly knew: Well she was pregnant too, the doctors let her go four weeks overdue, then when she finally went into labor she got stuck in traffic on the two hour drive to the hospital. When she got to the hospital they told her there was no one there to give her an epidural. She was in labor for 56 hours at the hospital and finally had a c-section, the baby weighed 12 pounds.

After hearing story after story I became petrified to have a baby. Between pregnancy fears and fighting with dh, I was overtaken with depression. I would spend hours on the computer (this was before internet) playing solitaire. When dh would return from work the fighting would begin and only end when he left for his next shift. I felt trapped. I had no friends, my family was an ocean away, I had no where to turn.

Because of the stress, I was losing weight, my doctor didn’t seem concerned. He told me it was normal to lose weight at the beginning of a pregnancy.

I remember sitting in the corner calling my parents, crying hysterically. I begged for them to rescue me. I was miserable, they doctor’s didn’t care about me or the baby, and my marriage to dh was a huge mistake. I wanted to go home. But my parents would remind me I was already home. I had made choices and now I needed to live with them. While I sobbed on the phone, they would calmly remind me that I needed to work things out.

Finally in the heat of an argument with dh I locked myself in the spare room and dialed my parents’ number. I was so hysterical my dad couldn’t understand a word I was saying. I was begging and pleading to move back. My dad started to explain to me why I needed to stay. In my complete hysteria I started screaming over and over, “The key! The key! You told me I could always come home! I still have the key!”

I am sure my parents agonized over their decision. I know they were worried about me and the baby, but they also believed that marriage was a commitment for life. They didn’t want me to run away from my problems, but they didn’t want my situation to get any worse. Finally after much debate and with the agreement of dh we decided it would be best for me to return to the states to have the baby.

108 days after I arrived I boarded a plane to Miami. I was going home, with no intention of ever returning.

And Baby Makes Three

As I sat on the airplane a feeling of relief swept over me. There was no sadness, not even regret, just relief to finally be free of my problems (or so I thought). My relief was short lived as shortly after everyone boarded the plane I heard my name being called over the intercom system. It was at this point in my life that I realized why innocent people run from the police. I knew I had done nothing wrong, but I didn’t want to come to the front of the plane. What could possibly be the problem? I was not going to get off that airplane, I was leaving and no one was going to stop me.

After about 30 seconds of contemplating not identifying myself, I realized I did not want to spend the night in jail in a foreign country (not sure why I thought I would end up in jail) and I made my way to the front of the plane. Once I reached the front they told me there was a problem and that I need to go to security. I could not believe this was happening. I was led off the plane and through the airport where eventually I ended up in a room with several security people and all my luggage. My luggage was not the nice black stuff with wheels and zippers either. It was old with clasps that made a clicking sound when they were shut, except the clasps didn’t work so well so we had duct taped my luggage together so it didn’t fall apart.

The duct tape had been cut off and my luggage was open and they were going through all my stuff. I felt like this was all a very, very bad dream, but it wasn’t, it was real and happening to me. Then a female security guard patted me up and down as I watched in horror as they tore apart my luggage. Finally after several minutes they decided I was not a threat I was told I could reboard the plane. My luggage however was in total disarray and I began to accept the fact that my stuff might not make it to Miami.

I arrived in Florida and quickly settled back into my old life, well except for the fact that I was married and pregnant. I spent my days hanging out at my parent’s house (I had no car) and my nights watching basketball on television with my dad and a few friends. Dh and I spoke occasionally on the phone, but I did write him a letter almost every day (remember life before email). I am not sure what those letters said, I think I just felt it was my duty to write them. The more time that passed the more we grew apart.

As time came for the baby to be born we made arrangements for dh to fly to the states. I decided it would be better for him to arrive after my due date just in case the baby decided to come late. Thank goodness I did that because my due date, June 20th, came and went. By June 21st I was miserable. By June 25th, I decided that I wasn’t ever going to have the baby. By July 1st I was desperate. I arrived at my appointment with plans to beg and plead for an induction. It was July in Florida and I was miserable!

Fortunately my doctor decided to check me to see if I was ready to be induced. I was 5cm so he sent me to the hospital to have the baby. When I arrived at the hospital there were no available beds and since I wasn’t in labor they wouldn’t admit me. The nurses encouraged me to go for a walk to help move things along and I would be admitted. I walked for 15 hours! From 9 am to midnight my mom and I walked the mall, the hospital, the parking lot and every place else we could think of. Every few hours we would return to the floor where they would send me away because I wasn’t in “active labor.”  Finally at midnight after walking the entire day plus not eating my mom put her foot down. She told the nurses they either needed to admit me or send me home, but those were the only two options.

They admitted me.

By that time I was completely exhausted, my feet ached, and were covered in blisters from walking all day. They decided to break my water and surprise, surprise we had a baby 45 minutes later.

Our little girl was born 14 months after we got married. We were officially a family.

Dh arrived in the states when she was three days old and for three weeks we “played house.” I think the constant, feeding, pooping, and crying (me not the baby , distracted us from the myriad of problems I had left down in Panama. For three weeks things seemed alright. Perhaps I had made a mistake in leaving, maybe things weren’t as bad as I thought. We were two adults, surely we could work out of differences.

Now that there was another person involved, things suddenly became a lot more complicated.

I Want a Divorce!

Note: From now on dh will be referred to as Sailor

After our three weeks together Sailor left for Panama. For several weeks we called and wrote letters talking mainly about our newborn daughter. She was an absolutely delightful baby which was good since I had no idea what I was doing. When she was seven weeks old I went back to school full time and she spent three days a week at the babysitter’s house. During evening classes she hung out with my family and never lacked for attention.

As time went on Sailor and I drifted slowly apart. His letters came less and less often until they stopped coming all together. I busied myself with school and friends and adjusted to life as a single mom. I still wrote regularly with baby updates and mailed videos of her swinging in her swing or sitting in her chair, but only because I felt obligated.

Finally Thanksgiving weekend I decided it was time to have a talk with Sailor. I called him and told him I wanted a divorce. We were two different people, with two different lives, and we had nothing in common. Wasn’t it better just to call it all a big mistake and move on? Sailor didn’t see it that way at all. Even though he had stopped writing he still had a daughter whom he cared very much about, he wasn’t about to lose her…

He told me there was no way we were getting a divorce and if I proceeded he would fight me for custody of our daughter. This upset me terribly because she didn’t even know him, he had only seen her for 3 weeks of her life. How dare he try to take away MY daughter. To make matters worse he informed me that he was purchasing a plane ticket and would be arriving the next day so we could work things out.

In my opinion, there was nothing to work out. This had all been one big mistake, it was better to move on with our lives than to continue. Nevertheless he arrived the next day with plans to stay for a month.

Much to my surprise my parents were completely behind Sailor, they did not think we should get a divorce and were determined to help us work it out. They even scheduled several sessions with a counselor they knew from church. This caused me to grow even angrier as I now felt the entire world was against me. I really believed it would be better for my daughter and I to start over, it could not be good for a child to grow up with two parents who didn’t even like each other.

At our first counseling session I steeled myself in the chair with arms crossed determined not to show one ounce of emotion. I answered the questions with one word and listened as Sailor claimed to want to work things out. I thought to myself that he was only doing this to get back at me for wanting to take his daughter, he says one thing to the counselor and then does something else when we are together. With each counseling session my bitterness grew and grew.

Finally at one of our last sessions (before Sailor was to return to Panama) the counselor gave sailor a stack of books to read. He told Sailor that he must read them in order for our marriage to work. I remember thinking that no book in the world was going to make our marriage work, but at least I didn’t have to read anything. School was starting in a few days and I would have plenty of homework to keep my busy. The counselor also told Sailor he would need to write me a letter once a week once he was back in Panama. Sailor assured him that he would, while I knew there was no way he would keep his promise.

Finally Sailor returned to Panama and I was free once again. I knew it was only a matter of time before he went back to his old ways, once he didn’t have my parents and the counselor checking up on him. At the end of the first week I was surprised when I found a letter from Sailor in the mailbox. I was even more surprised when I opened it and found out that he had been reading some of the books the counselor had given him.

As the weeks went on more and more letters arrived in the mailbox. Sailor was eagerly reading every book the counselor had given him. I was hesitant to believe he could change. During this time Sailor received new orders. He We would be moving to a small town in West Virginia.

Was I ready to move away from the safety and security of my family? What about my degree, I only needed 30 more credits to graduate. Would I be moving back in with an angry man or had he really changed? And what about our little girl? Was I ready to be a full time mom without the help of baby sitters, grandparents, and an aunt and uncle?

What change had occurred in Sailor, that made me think I should give this marriage another try?

HIStory

Happy has asked me to write about this part of our story. I’ll try to do my best to explain what happened when she asked me for a divorce and the aftermath of that phone call.

Happy let me know that we’d been living separate lives, more than the miles required. I hadn’t been writing her and although I was able to call pretty regularly we rarely discussed anything important. She lived her life in Florida with our daughter and I lived mine in Panama with work and whatever diversion I could muster. We had no basis to remain married and Happy made it clear that she wanted out.

I didn’t know then why I fought the divorce but there was no way I was going to let this marriage end. I didn’t know Happy or my daughter but I was determined to give the marriage my all and fight for it until I knew I’d spent everything I had to save it. Looking back, it seems so illogical and without any hope. (Aside – Writing this part of our story is even now convicting me that my passion and dedication has waned over the years. What I felt then was extreme sadness and loss but that motivated me to action. I need to regain some of that drive and serve my wife and family with the same zeal I had when I thought all could be lost)

I got leave from my command and flew home the next day. I don’t remember the ride home with Happy but I’m sure it was either frosty or hot but surely not cordial. We continued to fight for the next several days about whether we would divorce, how we would go forward and whether there was a future at all for us.

Happy told you I was an atheist. After the constant fighting and occasional cursing session from me, Happy’s parents suggested we meet with a Christian counselor. I was at my wit’s end and agreed to give it a try. The concepts he suggested to me seemed a little odd but I accepted the books he gave me and read them. Two of the books I remember are: Larry Crabb’s Inside Out and Gary Smalley’s If Only He Knew: What No Woman Can Resist.

Both books had a profound effect on me. Smalley’s book outlines how a Christian is to live for his wife. He covered servant leadership and referred me to scripture to support his claims. I recall reading Ephesians and thinking how backwards the ideas seemed to me. I threw up my hands and decided to try some of the ideas out in our marriage – I mean nothing else seemed to be working.

Later I read Crabb’s book and leaned about the need for internal change rather than external coverings over the same selfish heart. I knew I couldn’t be selfless on my own power so I realized I needed something, someone, greater than me to lead me to serve my nascent family. I discovered that I wasn’t the end all be all of an evolutionary process but a child of God who hadn’t been serving Him and couldn’t serve my wife and daughter without Him. I’d been nearly broken by my failed marriage but He gave me the lifeline I needed to be redeemed from within and then he showed me what I needed to to do to redeem my marriage. I became a Christian because those ideas that seemed so foreign to me worked. I tried to serve my wife in the ways the Bible teaches and began to see a change in my heart and hers. It was counter-intuitive, I worked to deny my selfish desires and to serve her and my daughter as much as I could. Something strange began to happen in me. The more I served them, the more I wanted to serve and the happier I became. I felt the flickerings of true love start in me. I have to be honest, I wanted to love Happy and be loved by her but until I met Jesus I didn’t know how. Don’t get me wrong, God showers His blessings on believers and non-believers as He sees fit. I’m not saying that non-Christians can’t love, I’m just saying that its a lot easier to love when you’ve met the source of all love.

Let me be clear, I’m not perfect and I’m not even close to be best husband and father in the world. I get angry and say stupid things all the time. I fall back into selfishness and don’t do near enough for my wife and kids. What Happy saw in me was and is not from me. It is only God’s work in me that she saw then and that I need to let shine forth for now and forever.

Thanks for letting me share a part of my side of our story.

Writer’s note: This is the story of how I became The Happy Housewife. I am writing as I have time and try to publish a new chapter every few weeks. This page will be updated when I write the next chapter.  If you don’t want to miss the next installment you can subscribe to my blog.