Sunny Days

I love sunny days out here.  Those are the days where everyone finds something to do.  They don't need my services because command tends to get a little ray of sunshine deep inside and relax a little.  Soldiers can be found out doing their jobs and joking around.  Our signal guys are throwing a football around just next door and those sounds travel within my office as they either make a great catch or miss altogether. 

Sunny days allow me the opportunity to make a circle around our area to meet with those who I do not typically see.  Too often, the only people I see are those requesting my services.  They are asking for additional help.  They find me after church to ask a question or a "hallways consult" as I have gotten to call them. I don't find these on sunny days.  These are the days I can actually get away from my office and shake hands with those who do not need me as the psychologist just me... as another soldier.  I can throw the football around with them, and they don't want to ask a few questions of me.  These are the days I can see those who are healthy and just be one with others. 

Mom

I am Mom.  It really does not matter how far away I am in the world, there are few things that will get in the way of me still fulfilling that role.  I am the officer in my group, and my NCOs are typically the ones looking out for personnel and making sure they are taken care of the Mom in me still watches to see how they are responding to different situations.  Are they perky and happy as usual?  Are they moody?  Do they feel okay? I can be here to listen and offer support, and I can require that they participate in “mandatory fun” as I know that helps to get anyone out of their funk for a little bit.

While fulfilling the other half of my Mom role, I also still get those Mom questions a half a world away.  Some questions are easy to answer like “Do we have extra sheets, because everyone is sick in this house?” or “What can I give our son when he starts to feel better so that he continues to be on the mend?”  Some are harder like “When are you coming home Mommy?”  Since I know everyone is currently sick at home, there is nothing that I would like to do than to come home and be right there.  I would love the opportunity to snuggle with my little guys and read a book or try to keep them quiet while they continue to mend.  To be the one that makes that little bit of toast as the first attempt to see if their little tummies can tolerate that. For now, I have to be comfortable with calling and talking to them that way to see if at least hearing my voice can help to make them feel better.  And of course… I can solve that sheet problem by ordering a couple new sets so that in case this happens again, there is a reserve with Toy Story and Elmo sheets.

When rank gets in the way

Rank is such an interesting entity.  It speaks of our experience in the military as to an estimate for how many years one has served.  On average, a junior NCO will have been in the military about 5-7 years.  A second lieutenant has been in less than a year and a captain approximately 5 years. It conveys our sense of responsibility.   NCOs are responsible for their soldiers and their officer to make sure the personnel and logistical matters are attended to.  An officer is responsible for the decision making, planning, and coordinating.  We do not correct a soldier as that is an NCO’s job.  We depend on our NCOs to help us make the right decisions because they have the most amount of information to help with that process.

Rank can also become a hindrance.  All too often in a deployed environment, I meet an officer who has let the idea of their rank go to their head.  The idea truly becomes “what is in it for me?”   I listen to the regulations being quoted about how much space one is allotted, what responsibilities one must fill.  It is truly amazing to see some forget that they are human beings working as part of a team.  I do not expect a full bird colonel to clean the latrines.  When teams are small, it is important for everyone to help; to roll up their sleeves and make the work lighter for everyone. 

All too often in the last few days, I have been told by my soldiers that they “have it”.  They do not need my assistance.   I do not need to lend a helping hand.  I stopped my NCOIC at one point and asked what the problem was with me helping.  Was there something I had missed in my training that told me I should not be doing such things?  Is there an unwritten rule that I have missed stating that we are all one team until it gets down to filling coolers or lugging hot chow containers? I don’t understand.  I was told that it was not against the rules, but jokingly was told that I was stepping on enlisted toes.

Rank gets in the way of having social contacts as well.  I am battling coming in late to a deployment, so my detachment soldiers have their own schedules.  They disappear into their own worlds during off time. Head phones are on their ears while X-box and Play Station are played.  They spend much of their day together, joking and laughing.  Being the officer, my office is in a different location.  I am the only officer on the team that is around.  I am female. There are only six female officers on this FOB, which makes it so much harder to find someone to hang around with.  The other females are company commanders and hang out with the other company commanders.  They have friends.  I live in the same place I work.  I am alone most of the day and alone at night.  No wonder the previous person was so eager to get home.  Rank got in the way or wanting to hang out with others.  Rank got in the way or wanting to hang out with the team.

 

I miss the energy of my house.  I miss my kids running around, creating noise and chaos.  I miss having my husband there by my side to just watch a movie with or play cards or just talk.  I wished for just a little time to myself a little too often when I was home.  Now I have too much.

Missing cuddle time

Part of being a parent is being there for not just the smiles, but for the sleepless nights when someone is sick and just wishing for a little bit of snuggle time.  It may be 3 or 4 in the morning, but they just need to know that someone is there.  My youngest has always wanted me to come and snuggle during those wee morning hours.  And it must be sitting rocking in the chair in his room when he doesn't feel good.  He's always been someone who gets colds so hard, so we are extra careful in the house to wash hands after blowing noses and to get his oldest brother to do the same.  There are some times that we use a lot of soap in that house!

I got word this morning that my little guy has been up since 3 with Daddy.  I hate being this far away and not being able to hold him and rock him like he would prefer.  I miss being able to just have those snuggle moments, because he only wants that at night.  During the day, you wouldn't notice that he doesn't feel well.  Both of my boys have been that way.  Calling and talking on the phone to them is just not the same as being there to hold them and give them a kiss.  To tuck them in bed and make sure they don't have a fever.  My husband is doing a great job, but I still miss being the one that can snuggle them back to sleep and make sure they feel better.  I miss being Mom.

"The Ma'am"

I knew deploying would mean a loss of individuality.  It would require me to take on new roles, new positions, and sometimes a new definition of myself.  I never thought it would take away my name. Since joining my detachment, I have to laugh at my new name.  I am no longer called by my rank, my title of doctor or even “Doc,” rather, I have been dubbed, “The Ma’am.”  Conversations go something like this: “I picked up the Ma’am this morning and headed to the DFAC.”  I’m even still present in the truck during the conversation.  Questions will be asked, “Did you ask the Ma’am?”  “Are you here to see the Ma’am?”  I have never heard someone refer to their male Officer in Charge as “The Sir”. Discussing this with another female officer assigned to the aid station, I learn that her medics call her “The Ma’am” as well.  So, running down to speak with her for a second the other day I was greeted at the door with, “Are you here to see the Ma’am?”  “Yes, please tell her it’s the other Ma’am.”  I wonder what my new title will be when the restoration center’s officer in charge comes back from rest and relaxation in a couple weeks.