Confessions Of A [Military] Wife

Becoming an Air Force wife at twenty during a pandemic with an (early) emergency wedding and then moving to a different state two days later ... I’ve definitely learned a lot in the last few months. These are my confessions, not all about being a wife, and not all about being a military wife, but all admissions of this period of time. I don’t necessarily love failing (at all, just like you), but Confession #1: I love to entertain people with my various faux pas, so grab some ice cream while I cry over spilled milk. 

 

Confession #2: I may or may not (heavy on the affirmative) chosen to slightly break the rules on base that mandate no public displays of affection while airmen are in uniform. Okay, but I promise no one saw. And I barely held like two fingers, so calm down.

 

Confession #3: I have succumbed to the stereotypical badge of pandemic-hood in that I started my very own sourdough starter!! I have great ambitions for my sourdough baking skills; however, I did throw away my moldy starter today. But I have more experience for next time, so all good. 

 

Confession #3b: Concerning aforesaid starter, I wrote a note announcing its existence and “DO NOT DISTURB” and stuck it to the top of the container when I first started the fermentation process because…if my husband sees a container not in the proper place in the kitchen, he will wash it. Imagine the flack I received today when he realized I threw the starter away after making such a fuss about allowing it to live in the first place. 

 

Confession #3c: I promise this is the last #3, but it’s worth noting that I have, up until our marriage, not been the tidiest person. (I remember sitting amidst many belongings as a child, despairing of getting it clean.) My husband, however, as the cleanest person I have ever met, has given me the final push to be a very clean person. I even clean while I cook sometimes *insert holier than thou emoji* 

 

Confession #4: I’ve gained weight since our matrimony. And that is a good thing. Let me be serious for two seconds and say that being balanced and not restricting while enjoying life and knowing I’m loved just as I am is far superior to letting orthorexia plague my life, barely eating enough to keep my tiny, now deceased sourdough starter alive, or always putting so much pressure on myself to hit a certain number on the scale. I’m slowly moving toward this mindset. So what if I’m a tiny bit squishy? #firstyear15isveryreal

 

Confession #5: The gas company and maintenance people at our apartments got a lovely surprise when I thought I was going to burn the kitchen down (highly exaggerated). See, gas stoves are a bit new for me, and I had a tiny little freak out (aka I texted my husband at work), which then resulted in lots of visitors who informed me I was fine, the stove was fine, and yeah. It was not a good time. Moving on.

 

Confession #6: I’m minorly obsessed with our little red Fiat. She’s so tiny and cute, and she’s put up with me learning stick shift (NOT GRACEFULLY FYI), she has a sport mode, and she pretends to love the same songs we play over and over. Also she puts up with offroading on sketchy roads, pushstarts multiple days in a row, and throwing her into first instead of third (the equivalent of saying “WOAHHH” to a racing horse).

 

Confession #7: I don’t actually think I have admitted this to anyone yet, except my husband. *DEEP BREATHS* Fine, I’ll just say it. I’m a gamer. And yes, I play Fortnite, and no, I’m not addicted to the game. But if my husband will read a Christian historical romance fiction with me, I’m pretty sure I can virtually run around annihilating cartoon characters. We love to pick up each other’s hobbies.

 

Confession #7b: Speaking of which, I’ve started watching some war movies with my husband. When we watched Pearl Harbor (warning: contains material in which I closed my eyes), I LOST IT. I SOBBED. Even my hubby cried. It was dramatic.

Confession #8: I think my husband is the cutest human God created. I literally ADORE him, and I’d cuddle him 24-7 if I could. I haven’t been home in four months, and I’m very alone here in this big city, but I’d much rather be with him here than with everyone else around me except him. We did that for a long time, and I’m just grateful we’re finally together. 

Through all of my failures, my Jesus and my husband have stood by me. That’s called grace, and I surely need an abundance of it.

-Sara