If you saw my last post, you’ll know that J graduated from Marine Security Guard school! (You’ll also know that I am incapable of being an adult.)
After eight weeks of brief, infrequent phone calls that involved little more than, well, whining and complaining, J not only graduated MSG school, but also received the Leadership Award. Swoon. Our families descended upon Quantico en masse last weekend to celebrate.
I spent the week before graduation in Quantico as well. Marine Security Guard Detachment Commanders are the only Marines who “deploy” with their families, so the MSG school does us the wonderful favor of hosting a weeklong training specifically for spouses. With 5 days packed full of sessions on accessing healthcare overseas, shipping our household goods, and working at post, there was a lot to process. All of that useful info aside, the best part of the week was meeting the seven other exceptional women who are crazy enough to agree to this journey. (And taking more than a few precarious trips in the group van.) Something tells me that even though we won’t be seeing much of each other, they will play a significant part of our MSG experience. To any future spouses reading this: go to spouse training.
It also didn’t hurt (me) that the first day of training conveniently coincided with the infamous OC spray day. After watching J take a healthy dose of mace to the face, I think every bit of the aforementioned complaining and whining was 100% warranted. He is definitely the better, braver half of this relationship. We weren’t allowed to take pictures, so this flashback from 2009 will have to do!
With all of that madness behind us, you’d think the worst would be over. But before we leave for Honduras later this month, we still need to clear medical (I have the achey, typhoidy arm to prove this has been taken care of), sell our cars, buy a Honduras-worthy car, divide our entire life into three piles (1 to be shipped express to Honduras, 1 to be shipping on the slow boat to Honduras, and 1 to remain behind in storage), let strangers ransack our house to take care of said piles, sell our house, and make all of our travel arrangements, among a few other “small” things. Adulting is hard, you guys.
But hey, we have orders, so that’s a start!