Wednesday, May 15, 2013

Police Week Post!

It’s been 319 days since I married a deputy sheriff and 319 days that I’ve been learning to not only be a wife, but to be a L.E.O. wife. The game is different than I expected, the rules change constantly and unknowingly. What I expected out of marriage was routine, schedules, date nights and a well-dressed dinner table. What I found instead is a calendar on the kitchen wall that counts out exactly how many days we’ll be in different time zones, homemade freezer meals so we can at least sit down for a ten minute dinner before he leaves, and “dates” that sometimes turn into watching a movie because he’s just coming off a three day shift and has no energy for anything else.
I don’t pretend to know a lot about marriage. We still learn new things about each other constantly and we work hard to have a happy home. But what I do know now, that I didn’t know 319 days ago is this:
I know how to lock up the house before I go to sleep at night. I know that the trash isn’t always going to be taken out on time, so I lug it out on my way to work if it needs to be. I know how to carry in a carload of anything when he’s not home and how to do it quietly when he’s upstairs sleeping. I know not to call him for every small “emergency”. I know how to entertain myself. I know how to celebrate holidays days before or after. I know not to get attached to any specific schedule because it can change overnight. I know how to eat dinner alone while he rushes around getting ready because he overslept. I know how to go days at a time without having a real conversation with him, and to just make mental notes of everything I want to tell him later. I know how it feels to go to special events alone, how it feels to be the odd man out with other couples, how it feels to worry when he’s been called out on a SWAT mission and I know it will be hours before I get even a simple text message from him.
I know why his back hurts. I know why his knees hurt. I know why he sometimes just watches me from across the table while I have a one-sided conversation and he just nods along. I know why he slipped a gun into my nightstand. I know why he wants me to use it properly and refuses to believe I’m “weak”. I know how heavy his utility belt and bullet proof vest are from moving them out of the way and thinking out awful it must be to have those hanging from your chest and hips for 12 hours at a time. I know that a bullet casing will leave a burn in the shape of a ring on his skin. I know that a bruised bottom lip means he wrestled someone to the ground.
I know that two tours to the war overseas made him a hero, but wearing a badge here makes him a public enemy. I know people look at him and see an enforcer, a pair of handcuffs and a ticket book. But they don’t see the hours he puts in, away from his family. They don’t see the dog he rescued from the side of the road with quills in its nose. They don’t see the SWAT raid that he spent with a scared child, asking to see his Batman costume to distract him from the commotion. They don’t see the welfare checks he does to see how an elderly person is doing, that no one has heard from in days, because their own children are too busy to care. They don’t see the roll of stickers he carries in case he meets a kid. They don’t see the bags of candy he stashes away to hand out for the kids who come up to him in the poverty stricken neighborhoods. They don’t see the midnight hunt through the woods he took to find a man with dementia who wandered off. They don’t see the extra time he gives to participate in the D.A.R.E. gradations or the faces of the kids who light up when they see him come out at the ceremony. They don’t see the practice he puts in to perfect an Honor Guard team to pay a proper respect at a memorial service. They don’t see how much it hurts him to hear the last call over the radio at a funeral for one of their own fallen officers.
I know that he’s always a law enforcement officer, even without the badge. I know that he is always looking over one shoulder. I know why he’s not easily upset. I know why he’s late coming home, why I’m driving somewhere alone, why he can’t be there every time I’m sick. I know what it’s like to be fiercely loved by someone who knows how short life is. I know what it’s like to have a husband with integrity. I know why he thinks before he speaks, why he doesn’t lose his temper and why he makes me feel safe. I know why we pray before he gets into his patrol car at night and why he holds me tight in the morning. I know that this life is nothing I expected, but is exactly where I’m supposed to be. I know I wouldn’t trade this life for anything.

Monday, May 13, 2013

National Police Week 2013

So it's National Police Week and guess who's excited? This lady! (If you could see me right now, I'd be pointing at myself and winking)

Anyways, there's not too much going on for it over on this end of the world, but I didn't find that out until the middle of last week so I guess I'll have to wait until next year. Boooo.

I did take my nephew to a Kops & Kids Safety Picnic this weekend and we loved it! Well, I loved it more, but he's 2 so he didn't really know what we were doing there. I'm planning on taking some snacks and drinks over to the office for my husband's shift this week and I made a wreath. Who doesn't love a good wreath?!

And Gigi's Cupcakes in San Antonio was ever so cool and made us these adorable cupcakes to display/sell during the week...(thanks again for actually reading my nagging emails!)

I do follow the events of the National Police Week going on in D.C. and they seem to have it together! I've been feeling a mix of emotions this past weekend coming up on NPW. It's a time to honor those lives lost in the line of duty and to show a little extra love and support for those still living through it. My heart is heavy for those wives, husbands, children and parents surviving the loss of their loved ones and yet I'm extremely proud of all of our LEOs for the sacrifices they make daily and the integrity they live with.

Take some time to thank a police officer this week, remember the ones gone on before us and love the ones we still get hold.

Friday, May 3, 2013

The noises.

I have a cat.

Well, I inherited a cat through marriage. She's pretty cool, we've become decent friends over the past few years since I first met her. She used to just glare at me from a corner and push her way in between The Deputy and I, but now, she seems to like me. She likes to sleep on the inside of the "C" my body makes when I sleep and will jump up on the ottoman to steal loves from me when I bend down to put on my shoes. You know. The whole head "boop" thing.
I didn't think it would be possible to become attached to a cat that you didn't have from kittenhood. Because let's face it. Cats are rude. The only reason anyone actually loves their cat (and I mean, grown adult, 78 in cat years, crankiness) is because they got them when they were teeny tiny, hopping, squeaky, yarn chasing fur balls. Little ankle biters.

But what I didn't anticipate about the LEO wife was the occasional lonliness. And what the cat didn't anticipate about me was the constant aroundness. Before I moved in, she basically was a cat that owned a four bedroom, two story house. The Deputy slept there a little during the day and then was either at work or was out galivanting around town with me.

So here we were, faced with a weird situation, just two girls thrown together by life. We've bonded over the past year. In a big house. With lots of creepy noises at night.

Which leads me to my original thought when I sat down to write this. If I had a dog, would I be able to actually get some sleep on The Deptuy's work nights?

I think so. Dogs go cray cray over that kind of stuff. You can hear a creak in the closet with a dog, and if he doesn't budge, you're fiiiiiiiine. You can hear someone running up the stairs. Is the dog still asleep? You're fine, it was probably the wind. Is that a man wearing a mask, trying to pry his way into my bedroom window?! Look for the dog. Is he still sleep chasing rabbits? Go back to bed.

But cats are drastically different. They like to play, "Let's see how fast I can scare the human at midnight!" by waking from a dead sleep, tail poofed up to the size of my leg, eyes wild, running a muck all over the house. Then of course, I'm awake, heart pounding wondering if that thump I heard was in my sleep. Did I dream that sound? Is that what woke me up? Is the cat running for her life as we speak? Is she sleep walking? Do cats sleep walk? Do cats see ghosts?! And then it's another two hours until I'm actually asleep again. You just can't trust a cat to save your life.

You see my problem.

Don't get me wrong, I don't camp out in a closet all night holding a gun and it's not like I live next door to a crack den or anything. I'm not up checking behind closet doors all night, I'm just not resting. And when you live with a LEO, there are  reasons you don't get up to check out the "scary noise" you heard coming from his office, because this is what you're going to flip the light on to:

As if the cat freaking out isn't enough to spike your heartrate.
(Take my word for it, that poster is much larger in person. Considering the small size of the office...)

I guess I'll either have to become one of those people who can survive off very little sleep or become one of those people who's really good at sleeping at work.