Wee Steve has a wee bit of news for you today.
Yup. That's right. Korea. (The South, not the North, because I wear the pants in this relationship and I'm from The South. Kidding. North Korea is all communist or whatever so they generally don't tolerate American military gingers too well.)
Before you go feeling sorry for me and start sending wine and chocolate (I won't scold you for the wine or chocolate, so don't be shy), I should admit to you that I whole-heartedly agreed to this decision. We didn't have to go to Korea. Steve approached his branch manager about openings, his branch manager said that he had some slots to fill in Korea, and we made the decision to go for it. If you know me in real life (because please, we all know this blog is a fantasy-land), you know that Steve and I have been fighting to get out of Fort Campbell since before we got here. I won't go into detail about the (how shall I say this nicely?) misfortunes we've had here, but we are both in solid agreement that we want out.
This is not to say that I was not 100%, completely against this entire Korea idea to begin with. Steve brought it up to me months ago. While we were arguing about something else. Probably something stupid. And I dug my heels in the ground and fought it until he didn't bring it up anymore. Then he tried a new angle. He brought it up during peace times. Revolutionary. I tell you, this kid's going places. (Hint: Asia)
He asked me to consider it again. I refused. A gigantic knot immediately formed in my stomach.
"Korea is filthy!"
"They eat dogs!"
"We will be the tallest people there!"
After a few more emails back and forth, I realized that most, if not all, of my arguments against being stationed there, were out of pure ignorance. I knew nothing about this country, other than the awful things other people had told me. (For the record, people told us great things about Fort Campbell and we know that shazz didn't pan out so that was the first of many flaws in my argument.) I hadn't bothered to do any research before saying, "Ugh! No way." I just knew that Asia (in general) was out of my comfort zone. I didn't want to go there. I only like the orange chicken from that crappy Chinese place in the mall. I am afraid of eating bow wow chow. What if I can't plug my hair dryer straight into the wall. Does anyone speak English. The plane ride there has to be at least 42 hours long. Wah wah wah. Ok let's google.
Turns out, Korea is kind of like a totally civilized, developed country. It is family-friendly. I did research and have mostly read good things about it (and most of the bad things revolve around my severe hatred of heat and humidity, both of which run rampant during the summer months). I talked with my (half-Korean!) neighbor whose sister is stationed at Osan. She loves it. Her kids love it. My neighbor loves it. She confirmed my fears that the Koreans do, in fact, eat dogs. She made me a Korean dish that did not involve dogs. I fell over and died of deliciousness after I licked the bowl clean and then came back to life rather suddenly when she informed me of the calorie content.
I finally talked with Steve on the phone. After hashing out our closing arguments for and against Korea, I finally took a deep breath in and said, "Ok. Let's do it." The knot in my stomach instantly went away. And that folks, is how I know this is the right decision.
Steve seemed completely shocked that he had won an argument (there's a first time for everything), especially one of this magnitude. But he's a good man and I am big enough to admit when I'm wrong. (I'm also big enough to admit that I'll never be able to wear white pants or jeggings but that's a story for another day.)
The selling point? Aren't you all curious as to how he brainwashed me into this horrible decision? Three years together as a family. Three straight, solid years to have my husband with my babies every day. In my bed every night. Next to me every day when I wake up. I can't get that here and I know it. The next deployment is already in the works. There is training being scheduled, missions being set. IT IS TOO SOON FOR THAT SHIT CAN I GET AN AMEN?
So ultimately, the decision boiled down to family time. I want my family together as much as possible (who doesn't?) and this was the one way to make that happen.
Of course, after making this monumental decision, we had to.... wait. And wait. And wait. And it felt like a fuh-REAKING eternity, but he finally has a solid piece of paperwork saying it's a go (or as solid as the Army can be, which we all know is somewhat shaky). We are moving to Asia, people. And not necessarily in a time frame that I find comfortable but basically right after he gets back from deployment because God forbid anyone breathes for just a second but OH WELL we'll chalk this one up to "keeping life interesting".
All of these things I was holding my breath for... whether or not I should get the piano tuned, hang up those pictures, buy and paint that cute dresser off craigslist, purge the plastic crap in our house, sign Sam up for preschool in the fall, buy a dress for the ball... all of my questions are answered. Most of them sound like "No" or "No way in hell" but at least I've finally got an idea of what to expect.
In the meantime, I need to purge purge purge, drink a lot of wine with my Fort Campbell friends, lose 87lbs so I can wear next to nothing during the sure-to-be-brutal Korean summer, eat all of the American things (sounds counter-intuitive when you consider I also need to lose 87lbs, but just go with it), brush up on my Korean (haaaaaa), get my babies passports, and see the people I need to see before we hop on a plane to a place we know not-a-lot-about.
I am so excited for this adventure. I totally expect to get some jacked-up looks for being so happy about this, but I can't imagine it's any worse than the look I got from Steve that one time I told him I wanted a pair of pajama jeans. We both agreed that we wanted an adventure out of our time in the Army. We had pictured Europe. But ohemgee that is so overdone. Get ready Korea. We're cashing in on this fortune cookie.