Monthly Archives: August 2011

Hello, I’m HH6.

Standard

Household 6 (n.) – A military man’s wife/girlfriend. Sometimes keeps up with the arduous tasks of shining boots, picking up laundry, and shopping, but mostly just a strain on meager Department of Defense budgets, and the military husband. The name is derived from where said wife spends most of her time, and the number 6 is the designation for a commander of a Company/Troop, Battalion/Squadron, Brigade/Regiment, Division or Corps.

This is a term you hear quite frequently when associated with people in the military and it is a “title” I wear proudly. Well, ok maybe not the shining boots parts but that was just to help reference what it meant when people said HH6. With the title comes it’s downfalls though too. When you are with someone in the military no matter how much you try to separate work from home life the two frequently become entwined.

I remember the first time getting here to Fayetteville aka Fayettenam and Pat was coming home at a pretty normal time each night. I started to get spoiled. Then 2 weeks later I find out he is going to “the field”. Oh great….I have just moved to a town where I literally don’t know a soul but him and now he is leaving for 5 days. Fantastic. I literally slept with a shot gun on one side of the bed and a baseball bat on the other. Course the shot gun is almost as tall as I am so that is pretty much useless to me. Any little noise in the night and I was wide eyed ready to attack. Until I started working my days dragged on and on. I started watching cooking shows. Lots of cooking shows. I discovered this one back from the 70s called the Galloping Gourmet. One of the corniest show ever, but it made me laugh. went to Wal-Mart more times then I feel comfortable admitting. Then there were some days I didn’t even get out of my pajamas.

The “lingo” is a whole different story. I would sit and listen to conversions the guys would have and I swear they wouldn’t say an actual word for 5 minutes. It’s all acronyms and codes. You don’t go grocery shopping, you go to the commissary.There’s a PX to shop at, they do PT, you have to be nice to their CO, the higher the BAH the better, the MOS is what they do, and so on. Is your head spinning cause trust me mine was and to some extent still is. I picked up a rubber band laying on the coffee table a few weeks ago and Pat said, “oh yeah that’s a retainer.” I’m looking at him going “No, a retainer is something you wear after braces, not this stretchy thing made out of rubber.” Then there’s the dreaded question “What does Pat do?” Que the deer in the headlight look. I try to keep up and figure that out I really do, but I still can’t tell you. He gets up goes to work (periodically jumps out of a perfectly good plane) and comes home.

When Pat had been gone to JRTC during October and I talked to him a grand total of 3 times for maybe about 5 minutes each. Couple of the girls that I had been spending time with laughed and “Hell hath no furry like a woman going through JRTC.” This was the longest time we had talked so little. I started to find myself getting really aggravated at the littlest things. Not to mention anything that could go wrong literally did. Walking into a house with the power cut off because I thought he paid the bill, two flat tires etc.

I am very proud of what he does and it is so inspiring to see someone have such a passion for their job. I am constantly reminded of how many people here are affected by the military.  The military really puts you on a different level. If people aren’t in it they don’t get it. It’s not their fault, but it is very hard to help them understand.

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Aside

**I started this blog last year in hopes that I would actually keep up with it. Well, I failed. So here is my new ditch effort attempt since I will be having some interesting changes happening in my life in the next few months. So here is a little background about me and how I ended up where I am now. Nothing too “deep” and most of it will be pretty amusing as I figure this town and this military life out. **

Since last July I have been thrown into the “deep end” of military life. For the past year and a half I have been dating a high school sweetheart who incidentally has been enlisted in the Army since 2003. Our entire relationship up until last July had been long distance. He was in Michigan on recruiting duty (let me tell you that was not fun for him nor I) and I lived in Florida. March of last year rolled around and he PCS’d (Permanent Change of Station) back to Ft. Bragg, NC. The move made our lives a little easier. Instead of one of us having to fly back and forth, we could drive now. The first time I drove to North Carolina I was so proud of myself. It was the first time I had ever driven that far and out of state all by myself. Driving back on the other hand was miserable. We had just reached a critical point in our relationship. I was going to have to move up or we needed to move on.

There have been many difficult decisions I have already had to make in regards to my life. Some I did understand, others I didn’t understand, and some where I had to just cut and run whether any parties understood. To say I have had a life of normalcy would be so far from the truth. Until I started dating Pat nothing was stable in my life. My personal life was so far downhill (much to my own doing), my family life was barely hanging on, and my work life well that was the “straw” as some would say that made everything crash. Let’s just say after these past 3 years I have been pulling more white hairs out of my 26 year old head then I think is necessary…

So I made my cut and run decision. It wasn’t easy. I had this twitchy eye thing going on for about 3 months before I actually got up enough nerve to tell my family I was moving. Their only adopted only child was moving 3 states away when she had never lived more then 12 miles from her parents. Of course after I told them the twitch vanished as well as most of my stress. It was time for me to leave. Time for me to see what was beyond the life familiarity.

July rolled around, I rolled out of Florida, and headed to the military town of Fayetteville, North Carolina. Moving here was a bit of a shock. My cell phone hardly would worked where we  lived. The nearest Starbucks was 30 minutes away. And when people say it’s a 60 minute drive it’s because you are literally driving 60 miles or more.

When I first got here I was a bit under a misguided understanding of life in the military. At the time I wasn’t working and Pat would be home every night around 5 or 6. It seemed just like a normal job. Until field training started…it all changed. Pat would be gone for 4 to 5 days at a time, and there I was sitting and home basically staring at the cat. There were only so many “Wal-Mart” runs I could make during the day and I felt like they were starting to recognize me.

July, August, September pretty much came and went and I was desperately trying to find a job. I do not sit well. I do not sit well at all. I was on what felt like a weekend that never ended. I was starting to creep closer to October and that was the part I was dreading the most. October only meant one thing for me…JRTC. Without going into Army lingo it is a month long training course that takes place in Louisiana, and it was Pat’s turn to go. He was going to leave and I was going to be here hardly knowing a soul. Then success, I got a job. I could not have asked for better timing. He was going to be gone, but at least I would have something to fill my day.

A little background….