Thursday I was asked by the station commander to come into his office and as I got up from my recruiter's desk to walk that way I noticed the second in command as well as my recruiter were following me.

Great.

Right away I knew it couldn't be good. The air was thick with apology before words ever got uttered. It was explained to me that given the unique situation I was in they had done some further digging and they had come to find out that a few weeks ago a woman from Garland, Texas, a year younger than I am now, 41, was in the same situation as I was about to be. Ready to take on Officer Candidate School, her recruiting station submitted a waiver to their battalion, it was approved and off she went to Fort Benning where she completed the program and was then summarily discharged.

No, not because she didn't do well, but because the battalion at Benning disagreed with the waiver the recruiting battalion in Texas had given her which allowed her to attend OCS in the first place. Since she was a candidate and not enlisted, she was discharged with the Army's apology.

Gulp.

We talked-- the station commander, the 1st Sgt and my recruiter.
They could go ahead with the waiver, hope my old Army family name would carry some weight and we could all cross our fingers, but things didn't look too good.

At some point the recruiting cadre relaxed, our conversation, my family background and general interview impressed them and so they gave me their best recruiting schpiel. I'd be a great asset to the Army, why didn't I enlist and backdoor the OCS packet or even a warrant officer packet once I was in? It would only be a year or so of working as an E4 (specialist in the Army, Corporal in the USMC) It would work, I'm athletic and my test scores were in the 90s percentile wise.

Now anyone who spends any kind of time with me (god love'm) knows I can get a little stiff necked when I have made up my mind about something. Whiplash where necks are concerned these last 8 days is NOT EVEN THE WORD.


:::rolling tape:::

Sitting here last Sunday night I discover I can still serve in the military.
ohmyhell.
A couple of hours later I read I have too many kids so no I can't.
Then I get an email that says oh yes you can if you have a waiver and did I know I could get one for OCS as well?
ohmyhell again.
My head swims with the implications and I call a recruiter the next day.

Than spouse gives me the are you out of your mind face and tells me he'd rather I not, but won't stand in my way, then lays low in hopes that all this will just blow over without any kind of conversational engagement.
Fine. I won't go.
After a couple of days the spouse and I suck it up and have a conversation resulting in a spousal ok I'm good to go if you are.
Then more tests and plans at the recruiting station.
Then another day and more paper work documenting and proving my heartbeat and respiration and lack of any known sociopathic tendencies.
Then the Garland woman saga hits followed by the interview with the recruiting station head and the okay you should enlist and backdoor this pitch.
After that I came home to ask the million dollar question: Hey honey what do you think about my enlisting cause OCS is too damn risky?

Then the real way the spouse felt about this whole Army matter really surfaces and well since one of my biggest complaints about my beloved is how he rarely speaks or gives an opinion, it would be pretty freaking wrong for me to give him a reply which would convey: Thanks for the input, I'm enlisting anyway.

Yes, as a matter of fact I did say all of that just now without inhaling.
Nauseous, yet?

Insert expletives and tantrums here.

I had some that would inspire awe in any one of my kids.
Captured on tape and they could have held it over my head for years.
I couldn't believe how gut wrenching the last week as been.
It was akin to one long, fast, tummy-plummeting ride over the top of multiple sets of hills on a country road. Only nobody ever mentions the bugs you get in your teeth flying down the road like that.

ew.

The final blow came in the form of a four year old wearing Mike's latest pan of brownies on his face and his Lightning McQueen underwear on backwards so he can see the picture, crawling into my lap, patting me on the cheek and saying he likes it when I rock him. A MIRV or TOW didn't have the blast radius on my active duty dreams that Little Guy did.

Checkmate.

Game over.

It took two days just to stop hearing the death rattle.
^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^*^
A word to those who had front row tickets to the angst. I'm humbled you took the time and as trite as it may sound, I learned a great deal through this process. Lessons on faith, leadership, self efficacy and patience hit dead center. I liken them to those gifts you get to keep even if you send the infomercial item back "no questions asked, just pay for shipping and handling".

Oh I got handled all right. I feel like one might expect to after coming out of a mental biker fight.

While the lessons weren't what I wanted or sought, they were very much what I needed. When are they ever not,really?
*tired smile*
So. Thank you.

I haven't ruled out grad school, the Reserves, government work or contract work overseas, but a career full fledged would be too hard and unpredictable on everyone except me and unlike that group of infomercial items you buy, have shipped and later pick through to choose what to send back, I'm a package deal. Picking and choosing aren't mother friendly verbs at present.

I couldn't tell you how I feel right now much less what I think more than preserving and protecting my family. There's no nobility in it so any comments to that would be awkward. I suspect that impulse is a fruit of sound genetic imprinting and the evolutionary process so taking credit for that would be like taking credit for hair color, being able to roll my tongue or pulling my thumb back just so.

Best way I can see it right now with little time to set this all in perspective, I need to be patient and grateful for breathing in and out and still possessing the temerity to assume another day will be there when I open my eyes.

I'm good to go.
Like some of my milfolk say, "Drive On!"