Tuesday, February 14, 2012

You Know You Are A Military Spouse When...

You know you are a military spouse when…

You know you are a military spouse when it doesn’t even phase you that you carry out all of your prescriptions from a military installation in a brown bag.  I have gotten so used to it, that it wasn’t until recently that I was really “aware” of the brown bag for the first time.  I had an appointment up at Bethesda with a GI Doctor for some stomach issues.  In short, the Dr. basically told me that I need to “start over”, and prepare as if I was going in for a colonoscopy, without actually getting a colonoscopy.  She described the “prep” as much easier these days and said the name of it is “Movie Prep”.  I envisioned myself relaxing in my room watching a movie, with the occasional urge to go.  Not too bad.  She then prescribed Miralax which is a “power booster” to really get things moving after the “prep” and then added in some stool softeners, just for the fun of it.  Looking at the bright side, this has to end with a good 5 to 6 pounds gone – right?

Upon arrival at the military pharmacy, I was about 30th in line.  Not in uniform, not a refill and therefore, not moving!  After sitting in a hard plastic chair, making sure I did not breathe in or touch anything, my number was finally called.   I handed over my number, told them “my” last 4, and was told it will be another 30 minutes.  So, I took a quick trip down to Subway, might as well have a good final meal.  Arriving back at the pharmacy, they called my number and up I went, not even enough time to eat my sandwich.  Of course, I get called up to the counter with the very nice, young good looking military man.  He started loading up the counter in front of me and I instantly turned red, for I knew what was coming.  He sounded as if he was on a microphone announcing each prescription as he held them up for the world to see.   Have you ever heard of the privacy act buddy?  He yelled, “Moviprep”, quickly reading the box, I saw that it is not “MOVIE” Prep like I originally envisioned. I know realize that “Movi” must be short for the you know what that will be “moviiiing”.  He then held up two large jars of Miralax, seriously enough for a 2 year supply, for 10 people. The military loves to give out drugs in Sam’s Club size containers.   Finally, he held up the bottle of stool softeners and gave them a little rattle with a smile.  I felt like all eyes were on the back of my head.  He even seemed a bit surprised by the sheer amount of medication and asked, “Ma’m  are you having a procedure?”  I felt like saying, “no, I am not, Mr. 18 year old who probably poops on command!”    Instead, I just nodded yes, so I could leave.

 It didn’t end there. He then decided to play pharmacist and read me the instructions on each and every medication.  I told him, this is not rocket science; please just put them in the bag.  He was not amused.  He then broke out the bag –yes, the largest brown bag I have ever seen in my life.  And one, by painstakingly one, he loaded up my bag.  You know you are a military spouse when you carry your prescriptions around in a brown bag – and trust me, they have them in all sizes.


Tuesday, January 31, 2012

M.O.M. (My Own Moment)- PLEASE!: Military Family Consulting

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M.O.M. (My Own Moment)- PLEASE!: **it Happens!

M.O.M. (My Own Moment)- PLEASE!: **it Happens!: It was a typical late summer afternoon with the kids playing in the back yard, when my 5 year old started yelling he needs to go to the pott...

**it Happens!

It was a typical late summer afternoon with the kids playing in the back yard, when my 5 year old started yelling he needs to go to the potty!  By the look on his face, I knew this was not your typical, "just pee behind the tree" moment, this was the big one!
Holding his hands against the back of his pants, he ran past me at full speed.   I quickly asked my daughter to grab the mail before she came inside, and raced after him.  As I rounded the corner to the bathroom, the trail of diarrhea had begun. 

Since I can't stand the word, diarrhea, or according to spell check, spell it correctly, I am going to refer to this "diarrhea" episode as the "Big D."

Arriving at the bathroom door, I discovered that my sweet son attempted to make it, but fell short.  Before I caught up to him, he tried to get his swim shorts off with no success.  Well, the shorts did come off, but everything came with it.  So now the floor leading up to the bathroom, the bathroom floor, the potty and his legs were covered in the Big D. 

 As he sat there on the potty, I told him I was going to go throw out his bathing suit and I would be right back to clean him up.  He then begged me not to throw out his favorite Cars bathing suit, so as a typical guilt ridden mom, I went to rinse his bathing suit out in the laundry room. 

As I was trying to rinse this suit out, I was cursing the person who decided that mesh underwear in boys bathing suits are a good idea.  Let's face it,  it's only purpose is holding in, what you really want to wash out!  Through my furious scrubbing, I heard him call for me, so I tossed the swim shorts in the sink, and turned on the water to rinse. 

Since he was covered from waist to toe, I made a command decision to pick him up from the back, under his arms and I warned him, "do not touch ANYTHING."  So instead, as I lifted him up, he decided to wrap his legs around the back of my knees and locked them into place...covering me with the Big D.  I carried him upstairs like a baby ape holding onto his momma, then dumped him into the shower stall.  I turned it on and began to rinse my legs when I heard my daughter screaming from downstairs, "MOM!". 

 I yelled back, "I am up here!".  Again, "MOMMMM!!".  Again, I screamed back articulating every word, I...AM....UP...HERE!"  Finally the last time she screamed, "Mom!", I am embarrassed to admit it, but I yelled, "I am covered in poop (well maybe I used the other word) come up here!"
All of a sudden, I hear her voice coming closer and she said, "I fell and I am covered in blood!" I drop the shower hose and run into my room to find her from head to waist with cuts and a bloody lip.  Guilt immediately sets in.  She decided to ride her scooter down our long driveway in her bathing suit with no shoes or helmet, hit a rock and went flying. 

 As she is explaining this, my naked 5 year old ,still covered in the Big D, walks out of the shower soaking wet to find out what is going on.  I guess now is a great time to also mention that my husband was away with the Navy - in Hawaii - of course!

So I washed all of us down, wrapped them in towels and we headed downstairs. I scrubbed the bathroom and headed outside to throw away the Target bags filled with large amounts of paper towels.  As I stood at the top of the stairs leading to the laundry room, I opened the door to see Crocks and socks floating around on the floor below.   

Yes, I forgot to go back and turn off the water! Therefore, the damn Cars bathing suit mesh  jammed the sink causing the water to flow out for over an hour.  As I stood there with Big D in a bag and more Big D water at my feet, I wanted to cry! 

There was too much water for the wet/dry vac, so I grabbed the snow shovel and started shoveling out ankle high Big D water into the garage and outside to the driveway.  Of course, my 5 year old is standing at the top of the steps of the laundry room pleading with me to help shovel.  I think he knew by the look on my face, without having to say a word,  it was not the time or place.  He retreated.

As I got the water down to a manageable level, I searched in the garage for the wet/dry vac because its never where you left it.  Found the vac, prayed I would not get electrocuted as I plugged it in and sucked up the remainder of the Big D water.  Filling the entire bucket, I had finally finished.  By now, I was exhausted and knew I couldn't dump this in a garbage can and I didn't want to drag it out to the woods.  Therefore,  I decided to just dump it in the area the dog goes to the bathroom.  Make sense - right? 

I popped the top off, turned it upside down, the black water came rushing out and then thousands and thousands of pieces of glass came out on top of it.  What the "H... E... double hockey sticks is this?"  Well, my husband was the last to use the vac to clean up shattered glass from our boat window and never emptied it.  I wanted to scream!!  

So now , I go back in the garage, dig out an extension cord, plug the vac back in, suck it all back up, because knowing my luck - the dog will end up with glass in her paws.  I still had a kid inside with more Big D, an 8 year old with a fat lip and covered in band aids and... did I mention my husband was in Hawaii??!!

At this point I didn't know whether to cry or laugh, so I did both!  What can I say, **it happens!