The Big D: Murphy's Law

11 May
Tonight I'm going to talk about a little thing we Army wives like to call "Murphy's Law of Deployments." This is when your husband is gone and something that is supposed to run smoothly goes horribly, horribly wrong at the worst possible time. It tends to involve fuel pumps, stomach flu, hot water heaters, things of that nature. No one is immune to it and it seems to hit no matter how well you've planned.

Murphy's Law came knocking on our door last week, walked right in uninvited, put his stinky, smelly feet up on the coffee table and crashed at my house for a few days. It started when my husband left for his big mission that I mentioned in a previous post. Wait. Let me back up. The day before that, there was a big news story that was plastered all over my homepage. "5 US Deaths in Afghanistan." I wasn't going to read it. I stay away from stuff like that. Some things I just don't need to know. But that little white arrow hovered over the story and, entirely against my will, clicked on it. Might as well read it now. Great. It was on a road near Kandahar. IED's. My husband is getting ready to head out on those roads to a remote base 9 hours away. I am not a worrier by nature but that got to me.

Life must go on though, right? He made it safe and sound, texting me the next day to say that his 9 hour trip turned into a 17 hour trip. He didn't bring his laptop and internet is sketchy anyway but he arrived at his destination in one piece and I can't sit here frozen with fear and freaking my kids out. My oldest has a birthday party next Saturday and I had a couple of things on my list so I decided to go to walmart. Driving home with $79 missing from my checking account (how does walmart DO that???), I'm jamming to my favorite band, windows are down, it's a beautiful day, I've got stuff to make lasagna for dinner (this is a treat since we've eaten ramen noodles three nights this week ).

Suddenly, I look down at this little red flashing light on the dash that looks like a sailboat. I get that little butterfly feeling up in my neck, you know? And I am literally willing it to go away and NOT be a problem. I pull into the garage and see steam rising up from the hood of the car. Maybe if I pretend I don't see it, it will go away! But my amazingly perceptive kids say, "Cool! The car is smoking!" NO,NO,NO,NO,NO!!!

I pop the hood, which is totally useless to me since I know NOTHING about cars, and close it again. Shoot. Shoot, shoot, shoot. What to do...??? I know. I'll post it to facebook and see what happens. As soon as my mom sees my status update she calls me and hands the phone to Dad. Now my dad (who I don't talk with on the phone except to say, "Is Mom there?") has to walk me through finding the radiator, opening the valve, and filling it with a freaking ton of water. That should get me a couple of miles to a mechanic. Only problem is...it's Saturday night so....it'll have to wait until Monday. Oh, and I don't know how I'm going to get home from the mechanic, or how I'm going to get back to the mechanic when it's fixed, and what if takes all week to get the parts? I mean, I just went to walmart so I'm stocked on food but I'M COMPLETELY ON MY OWN HERE. No husband, pretty much brand new to the post so a small handful of friends that I don't know very well yet. Can I panic now? Is it all right to panic??

Sunday we're stuck at home. I hate missing church but what can I do? I walk the girls to school Monday morning and come home to face this nightmare. The first place I call, I get an answering service and the girl ends the message with "Have a blessed day." I don't know. Maybe that's a stupid reason to pick a mechanic. But it sucked me in and that's where I went. We (me and my 4 year old sidekick) make it there without doing any more damage to the car. Whew. One hurdle mounted. It needs a new radiator, the girls at the shop says, and will cost $600 (gulp), and it's going to take aaaallllll day, so.....do I have someone who can come and pick me up, or......?

Oh, sure, sure, I say. Yeah, I got a TON of friends who can help me out...*smile politely*... I go back to my seat and flip through my phone that is full of numbers of people back home. 1,000 miles away. Ok, there is this one friend I made here a few weeks back. We've had a couple of playdates for our kids, met at the library once for story time. I've got her number in my phone. I hate asking for help. I mean, I hate it. But what am I gonna do? I text her: "car trouble, at mechanic, can you get me? across from ranger joes" Maybe I should say, "Hey, it's Robin." Nah, she'll know. I hope. I shudder and press send.

Wait...wait...wait...

please text me back.

*buzz*

Yes!!! She can pick me up! She'll be here in 10! Yes!!!

She takes me by the bank to get the money out of our emergency fund (thank GOD we thought to do that), takes me home, then tells me to call her when the car is ready to pick up and she'll take me back out there, which I do and which she does. Thank you, thank you, God. Crisis over.


Ok. Two big lessons from Murphy visiting my house last week.
1. Army wives are wonderful. We are all in the same boat. We understand. We are there when your husband is deployed and you need help. Call us.
2. I can not stress enough how important it is that we took some of the money we got back from DLA and per diem and all that and put a little in a savings account all by its lonesome JUST for days like that day. I can't imagine how much worse that whole episode would have been if we didn't have the money. Please. If you don't learn anything else from this post. Don't let your husband leave you without an emergency fund. That's what keeps minor little horror stories from turning into major catastrophes that take months or years to recover from.

Have a blessed day, friends