Update (and a bit of a whine)

We got our first letter from Squidboy a few days ago, I just hadn't had a chance to let everybody know.  He seems to be doing okay, and apparently likes the guys he's training with.  I was encouraged by the fact that he didn't start the letter off with: GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!  Not that we could get him out -- he took the oath and that makes him official U.S. Government Property until his enlistment's up.  (Plus however many years of inactive reserve time they slap on at the end of the enlistment period.)

At least we now have an address where we can write to him.  No care packages from home, no magazines, only letters and a few pix are allowed.  Guess the homemade jerky we were talking about will have to wait until after he's out of "submarine basic".  Yeah, after he gets done with the basic training all Navy recruits receive, he'll report to sub school and will have another 8-10 weeks (I forget exactly how long the recruiter said it takes) of intensive sub training to endure.  This is before he goes on to get the training in his specialty....

We're doing better than I feared.  I've only called his cell number once to hear his voice.  His dad says he's thought about, but hasn't done it.  Yet.  Needless to say, we all miss him rather badly.  His dad and I both get teary-eyed sometimes when we stop and think about how long he'll be away.  It will likely be years before we'll get to spend any more holidays together as a family.  By the time Squidboy's enlistment is up, his brother may well be married and starting a family of his own, living who-knows-where.   Squidboy himself could be married by then, for that matter.  Or if not married, either or both of them could be in a serious relationship, and prefer to spend holidays with the girlfriend and her family.

So last Christmas might be the last time we'll get to all spend it together.  We almost didn't.  The guys were going to go spend Christmas with hubby's side of the family (who live several states away), but the weather between here and there went to hell, and they were afraid they wouldn't be able to make it back in time to meet their work and/or school obligations.  They were disappointed, but I have to admit that I was just as glad to have them stay home.  We've spent few enough Christmases together, in our little family group.  Before we moved, we'd be running between the city where his parents lived and the city where my parents lived and dancing to everyone else's tune.  After the move, we would pack up and drive too damned many hours so we could make them happy, never mind how we felt about it.  It finally got to be too much for me and I started just staying here whenever I could.  Can't get off work or can't find anyone to take care of the animals became the standard excuses.  Maybe I should just find the courage to tell them the truth, that I'd rather spend the holiday alone than deal with all the bullsh*t that comes with dealing with either 6 people in the house and only one bathroom, or being forced to stay with a chain smoker when the smell gets into *everything* and makes me sick.

Holidays: Fun?  Not without a 55-gallon drum of Prozac....