To whom it may concern,
As of noon, August 31, I hereby resign from the following duties:
lawn maintenance
plumber
sprinkler repair
automotive mechanic
electrician
pond maintenance
home handyman
car washer
I would like to point out that I am resigning with everything in perfect working order to return to the guy who has been on an extended leave of absence fighting a war.
Sincerely,
Terri Pernia
Sunday, August 28, 2011
Wednesday, August 17, 2011
I don't want to wear the pants in this family!
Wil and I pretty much fit into traditional roles in our lives. As I wife, I do most of the cooking, gardening, sewing, laundry, shopping, etc...all of those traditional wifely chores. Wil takes care of the lawn, the automotive care and repair, home maintenance and repair, etc...all of those husbandly chores. We share most cleaning chores. In addition to all of this, we both work full-time. So, our lives are busy, but we are happy together and happy in our traditional roles.
It works very well until the war interferes. Wil is ordered away to fight for truth, justice, and the American way. So, now, I am left home to shoulder all of the responsibilities. I'm not really totally helpless. I CAN do more than I WANT to do. Wil worked very hard to make sure all of the maintenance and repairs on everything was caught up, so all I would really have to take on was the lawn. I got lessons from him in lawn mowing, trimming, and edging. Since I was out of school, I thought it would be easy.
Well, I was wrong. Mowing, trimming, and edging in the heat is exhausting. What takes him only a short time takes me much longer. Still, I have soldiered on. This is my contribution to the war effort, keeping things back home taken care of, so Wil can concentrate on his job in combat.
However, all of my resolve didn't help when things began to go wrong. Part of the difficulty, you see, is that Wil is an engineer. He thinks like an engineer. He likes to automate things around our house. So, as if by magic, lights go on and off, plants get watered, the lawn gets sprinkled, the birdbath gets filled, the waterfall flows, the pond and fountains are filled. It's truly amazing to see all the automation.
The other part of the difficulty is that I have little to no experience in home or auto repair. I can name the basic tools and I know basically how things work, but that is about it. You see, I grew up with traditional parents, so I learned all of my skills at my mothers knee while my brother tagged around after my dad learning all of those "guy" things.
The problems started a few weeks ago. I went out to clean the pond/waterfall filter. That's usually Wil's job, but when he's gone, I do it. But this time, after I cleaned the filter and plugged the pump back in, it didn't run. Every time I plugged it in, it tripped the circuit breaker. Great. I talked to Wil via Skype that evening and he said I'd probably have to buy a new pump and install it. Great.
Kaleb was with me that weekend. The day after the pump quit, I started to take him home and had a flat tire en route. Great. Sarah came and picked up Kaleb while I waited for roadside assistance. I was on the verge of despair now with a pump to replace AND a tire to get replaced.
But fate wasn't finished with me yet. When I got home, a door broke, actually the door handle. The handle would turn, but the thingy that goes into the door jamb wouldn't retract. (I learned much later that the "thingy" is called a striker bolt.) So, now I could no longer go from the house into the attached garage or vice versa. I realized that, to do the laundry (which is in the garage), I would have to go out the front door and into the big garage door where the cars go in. Great.
In 24 hours, 3 things had broken that I could not repair, nor could they wait for Wil to get home. I was a bit overwhelmed to say the least. I decided to mow the lawn. At least that was something at which I had been successful. I pushed the lawnmower over to the side of the yard to begin just as my neighbor arrived home and went to his mailbox. He's a nice guy. He politely inquired about Wil, then asked when he was coming home. I said, "September, but I really need him home NOW."
I guess my voice broke as I said that. I had been suppressing tears all day. I know, typical woman, I cry when I am really stressed. At that moment, talking to my neighbor, I could barely suppress the tears. He looked at me sharply and inquired if everything was okay. All of my troubles poured out then. He was taken aback, I think. I hastened to assure him that I was going to call my brother to help with the pump and Honda would take care of the tire. When I finished, this wonderfully nice guy offered to get the stuck door open. He did so, and even though it wasn't completely fixed, I knew I could manage until my brother came over.
I talked to my brother Mike before he came over. He had a few tricks up his sleeve to tell me to try to fix the pump problem. I dutifully tried everything he said, but nothing worked. So, he said he'd be over in the next day or two to work on things for me.
That evening I went out to do laundry, through the door my neighbor had recently managed to open for me. Now the washer wasn't working. In all of the testing of the pump, plugging it into various outlets, I had tripped other circuit breakers. I went to the panel and looked for a tripped breaker, but saw nothing amiss. I looked at the list and tried turning off and on the breaker labeled "washer," but it didn't help. After a good cry, I was on Skype with Wil later that evening. From the other side of the planet, he told me how to fix the washer. I didn't realize that one GFI outlet on the washer's circuit had tripped, cutting off all power to that circuit. Sheesh.
So, my brother Mike came over. He fixed the door handle and diagnosed the pump problem. I indeed needed to order a new one, just as Wil had thought. I assured him that I had the tire issue under control. Mike talked with me, made me laugh, hugged me and reassured me.
A week later, the new pump came in and Mike came to install it. It wasn't the easy fix that Wil had assured me I could handle myself. It wasn't just a matter of taking the old pump off and attaching the new pump to the same fittings. No, the filter had to be reconfigured and fittings had to be modified and manhandled. Thank goodness I had called Mike! It did take me a few days after the pump repair to ferret out and reset all of the power and water timers, but I finally got that done. I thought surely everything would be all right now.
Wrong again. Four days after the pump problem was finally resolved, I climbed into Wil's big old Chevy Avalanche truck to move it and it was dead, completely dead, no lights, no sounds, and certainly no cranking. Great. I needed that truck to help move my son, Jacob, back to college in 3 days. Once again on Skype, Wil diagnosed the problem...a dead battery. He assured me that I could replace it, except it would be heavy, so I should get Jacob to help me. I was skeptical, but determined not to call Mike again for help so soon.
So, I read on the internet about how to change automotive batteries. Wil volunteered to coach me through it via Skype. I recruited Jacob to help when he got home from work. I wasn't sure how much he could help. He's very smart, an A student in college, but he hadn't grown up learning about mechanical things. I went out to the garage with Jacob in tow and Wil on Skype, determined to conquer the battery.
I discovered that I couldn't even open the hood! I was a dismal failure. However, my Jacob was a stunning success! He popped the hood open. He handled the tools with ease. Even though the battery was way back against the firewall and under structural supports that had to be removed, Jacob got the battery out with relative ease. I only acted as surgical nurse, handing him tools and holding a pan to corral the loose parts and bolts. Though Wil was itching to reach across the miles through Skype, we managed to change the battery without needing too much help from Wil.
So, now, surely now, everything would be okay until Wil returned. But no. Wrong again. This afternoon tragedy struck yet again. I went out to clean the pond filter again. That was fine, everything was okay, filter cleaned and pump up and running again. But while out there, I noticed that some of the plants were on the verge of death, dying from lack of water. Those plants are supposed to be watered by an automatic micro-irrigation system tied to the sprinkler system.
I turned on the sprinkler system and began to track down the problem. It didn't take long to find it. A quarter inch hose had popped off its fitting, right beside the pond pump outlet. Ah ha! That quarter inch black hose looks almost identical to the black wires from the pond pumps and lights. Either Mike or I must have tugged the hose loose while working with the wires for the pond pumps and lights.
Now, here was a problem I could handle, I thought. I turned off the sprinkler, found the end of the hose and pushed it back onto its fitting. Well, I pushed and pushed, but it just wouldn't slide over the fitting. I pushed and pushed some more. Unfortunately, this fitting is in an awkward spot, between the fake rock covering the pond outlet and the overgrown African Iris by the pond. I decided that if I could unscrew the fitting from the end of the pipe, I could more easily push the micro-irrigation hose on. So, I fetched a tool, a plier.
I tried to unscrew the fitting with the plier, since it wouldn't turn by hand. I could barely turn it even with the plier. So, after a few turns, I gave up on that. I just pushed and pushed the hose, but it just didn't want to fit completely on. Then, I guess I pushed too hard and I must have turned the whole pipe with the plier, because the entire pipe came off in my hand. I was stunned. This pipe fits into a pop-up sprinkler head that is 6 inches or so under the ground. With the pipe off, the sprinkler dropped right down into the hole.
The first thing I did was cry, of course. What made me cry was remembering something Wil told me right before he left. He made me promise to buy a cement sprinkler ring to fit around a raised sprinkler head just off the edge of the porch. He said the one thing that would be most difficult to fix in his absence would be sprinkler heads and he didn't want me to accidentally bump it with the mower and break it off. I did buy and place the ring and I was very careful around that particular sprinkler head. I thought back to his prophetic words that I wouldn't be able to fix the sprinkler system.
For everything else that broke, Wil assured me I could fix it. He was confident I could replace the pond pump, even though I wasn't. He was confident I could change the truck battery, even though I wasn't. But the one thing that Wil doubted my skills about, the sprinkler system, had just broken in my hand. Of course I cried!
But my resolve kicked in. Even though the tears flowed, I dug up that sprinkler head. I turned on the sprinkler to make the pipe fitting pop up. I got soaking wet. My tears mingled with the sprinkler water. I was covered in mud. The hole I dug filled with water and I was trying to grasp a slippery pipe in a mud-filled hole. I managed to get the pipe up a bit.
I trudged back around the house to turn off the sprinkler, clothes dripping, tears flowing, and muddy from head to toe. It's a good thing none of my close neighbors were outside. I know I was a miserable sight. With the sprinkler off, eventually the water in the hole drained away. I managed to manhandle enough of the hose onto the fitting and rescrew the whole pipe assembly back into the sprinkler. I trudged back around the house, turned on the sprinkler again to test everything and make sure the micro-irrigation system was once again watering the plants it should. After one more trip through the sprinkler spray to turn it off, I think I have it fixed enough to last until Wil's return.
But, I couldn't stop crying. I muttered unkind things about the United States Air Force and softly swore terrible oaths to terrorists everywhere. I rinsed off the biggest of the mud with the garden hose. I went in the garage and closed the door and peeled off my wet clothes, still crying. I came inside to shower, still crying. The tears didn't stop until after I was out of the shower.
All of the past few weeks' frustration bubbled up and out of me. All of the sadness and loneliness of missing Wil came rushing up. All of my fears and doubts and worries and stress poured out through my tears. I am calm now as I write about this. I hope I can maintain this as, once again, I connect with Wil on Skype later tonight. The last thing he needs to see is my hysteria when he is too far away to help.
It does help to talk to him. It does help to hear his reassurance and see his confidence in me. However, it is not the same as having his actual shoulder to cry on, having his real arms around me, and having his affection and caring in person. I realize how fortunate I am to have a video and audio connection to him every night. But don't tell me how lucky I am, because it just does not take the place of having him HERE.
I don't want to be a plumber or auto mechanic or electrician. I want my husband back! I want to take him a cold bottle of water while he mows in the heat. I want to stand by the box to turn the sprinkler system on and off for him as he wrestles with pipes and fittings. I want to bake or sew or plant flowers while he takes on the pumps and circuit breakers. I want to admire his skills as he changes the truck battery. I want to be responsible only for womanly skills I excel at.
So, don't tell me how lucky I am that I get to talk to Wil everyday. Don't try to tell me that 3 months is such a short deployment. Nothing will make me happy until I can have my husband home and my life gets back to the way it should be. Only problem is that he won't be home long before Uncle Sam sends him back to the fray and I am left wearing the work pants in the family again. Sigh.
It works very well until the war interferes. Wil is ordered away to fight for truth, justice, and the American way. So, now, I am left home to shoulder all of the responsibilities. I'm not really totally helpless. I CAN do more than I WANT to do. Wil worked very hard to make sure all of the maintenance and repairs on everything was caught up, so all I would really have to take on was the lawn. I got lessons from him in lawn mowing, trimming, and edging. Since I was out of school, I thought it would be easy.
Well, I was wrong. Mowing, trimming, and edging in the heat is exhausting. What takes him only a short time takes me much longer. Still, I have soldiered on. This is my contribution to the war effort, keeping things back home taken care of, so Wil can concentrate on his job in combat.
However, all of my resolve didn't help when things began to go wrong. Part of the difficulty, you see, is that Wil is an engineer. He thinks like an engineer. He likes to automate things around our house. So, as if by magic, lights go on and off, plants get watered, the lawn gets sprinkled, the birdbath gets filled, the waterfall flows, the pond and fountains are filled. It's truly amazing to see all the automation.
The other part of the difficulty is that I have little to no experience in home or auto repair. I can name the basic tools and I know basically how things work, but that is about it. You see, I grew up with traditional parents, so I learned all of my skills at my mothers knee while my brother tagged around after my dad learning all of those "guy" things.
The problems started a few weeks ago. I went out to clean the pond/waterfall filter. That's usually Wil's job, but when he's gone, I do it. But this time, after I cleaned the filter and plugged the pump back in, it didn't run. Every time I plugged it in, it tripped the circuit breaker. Great. I talked to Wil via Skype that evening and he said I'd probably have to buy a new pump and install it. Great.
Kaleb was with me that weekend. The day after the pump quit, I started to take him home and had a flat tire en route. Great. Sarah came and picked up Kaleb while I waited for roadside assistance. I was on the verge of despair now with a pump to replace AND a tire to get replaced.
But fate wasn't finished with me yet. When I got home, a door broke, actually the door handle. The handle would turn, but the thingy that goes into the door jamb wouldn't retract. (I learned much later that the "thingy" is called a striker bolt.) So, now I could no longer go from the house into the attached garage or vice versa. I realized that, to do the laundry (which is in the garage), I would have to go out the front door and into the big garage door where the cars go in. Great.
In 24 hours, 3 things had broken that I could not repair, nor could they wait for Wil to get home. I was a bit overwhelmed to say the least. I decided to mow the lawn. At least that was something at which I had been successful. I pushed the lawnmower over to the side of the yard to begin just as my neighbor arrived home and went to his mailbox. He's a nice guy. He politely inquired about Wil, then asked when he was coming home. I said, "September, but I really need him home NOW."
I guess my voice broke as I said that. I had been suppressing tears all day. I know, typical woman, I cry when I am really stressed. At that moment, talking to my neighbor, I could barely suppress the tears. He looked at me sharply and inquired if everything was okay. All of my troubles poured out then. He was taken aback, I think. I hastened to assure him that I was going to call my brother to help with the pump and Honda would take care of the tire. When I finished, this wonderfully nice guy offered to get the stuck door open. He did so, and even though it wasn't completely fixed, I knew I could manage until my brother came over.
I talked to my brother Mike before he came over. He had a few tricks up his sleeve to tell me to try to fix the pump problem. I dutifully tried everything he said, but nothing worked. So, he said he'd be over in the next day or two to work on things for me.
That evening I went out to do laundry, through the door my neighbor had recently managed to open for me. Now the washer wasn't working. In all of the testing of the pump, plugging it into various outlets, I had tripped other circuit breakers. I went to the panel and looked for a tripped breaker, but saw nothing amiss. I looked at the list and tried turning off and on the breaker labeled "washer," but it didn't help. After a good cry, I was on Skype with Wil later that evening. From the other side of the planet, he told me how to fix the washer. I didn't realize that one GFI outlet on the washer's circuit had tripped, cutting off all power to that circuit. Sheesh.
So, my brother Mike came over. He fixed the door handle and diagnosed the pump problem. I indeed needed to order a new one, just as Wil had thought. I assured him that I had the tire issue under control. Mike talked with me, made me laugh, hugged me and reassured me.
A week later, the new pump came in and Mike came to install it. It wasn't the easy fix that Wil had assured me I could handle myself. It wasn't just a matter of taking the old pump off and attaching the new pump to the same fittings. No, the filter had to be reconfigured and fittings had to be modified and manhandled. Thank goodness I had called Mike! It did take me a few days after the pump repair to ferret out and reset all of the power and water timers, but I finally got that done. I thought surely everything would be all right now.
Wrong again. Four days after the pump problem was finally resolved, I climbed into Wil's big old Chevy Avalanche truck to move it and it was dead, completely dead, no lights, no sounds, and certainly no cranking. Great. I needed that truck to help move my son, Jacob, back to college in 3 days. Once again on Skype, Wil diagnosed the problem...a dead battery. He assured me that I could replace it, except it would be heavy, so I should get Jacob to help me. I was skeptical, but determined not to call Mike again for help so soon.
So, I read on the internet about how to change automotive batteries. Wil volunteered to coach me through it via Skype. I recruited Jacob to help when he got home from work. I wasn't sure how much he could help. He's very smart, an A student in college, but he hadn't grown up learning about mechanical things. I went out to the garage with Jacob in tow and Wil on Skype, determined to conquer the battery.
I discovered that I couldn't even open the hood! I was a dismal failure. However, my Jacob was a stunning success! He popped the hood open. He handled the tools with ease. Even though the battery was way back against the firewall and under structural supports that had to be removed, Jacob got the battery out with relative ease. I only acted as surgical nurse, handing him tools and holding a pan to corral the loose parts and bolts. Though Wil was itching to reach across the miles through Skype, we managed to change the battery without needing too much help from Wil.
So, now, surely now, everything would be okay until Wil returned. But no. Wrong again. This afternoon tragedy struck yet again. I went out to clean the pond filter again. That was fine, everything was okay, filter cleaned and pump up and running again. But while out there, I noticed that some of the plants were on the verge of death, dying from lack of water. Those plants are supposed to be watered by an automatic micro-irrigation system tied to the sprinkler system.
I turned on the sprinkler system and began to track down the problem. It didn't take long to find it. A quarter inch hose had popped off its fitting, right beside the pond pump outlet. Ah ha! That quarter inch black hose looks almost identical to the black wires from the pond pumps and lights. Either Mike or I must have tugged the hose loose while working with the wires for the pond pumps and lights.
Now, here was a problem I could handle, I thought. I turned off the sprinkler, found the end of the hose and pushed it back onto its fitting. Well, I pushed and pushed, but it just wouldn't slide over the fitting. I pushed and pushed some more. Unfortunately, this fitting is in an awkward spot, between the fake rock covering the pond outlet and the overgrown African Iris by the pond. I decided that if I could unscrew the fitting from the end of the pipe, I could more easily push the micro-irrigation hose on. So, I fetched a tool, a plier.
I tried to unscrew the fitting with the plier, since it wouldn't turn by hand. I could barely turn it even with the plier. So, after a few turns, I gave up on that. I just pushed and pushed the hose, but it just didn't want to fit completely on. Then, I guess I pushed too hard and I must have turned the whole pipe with the plier, because the entire pipe came off in my hand. I was stunned. This pipe fits into a pop-up sprinkler head that is 6 inches or so under the ground. With the pipe off, the sprinkler dropped right down into the hole.
The first thing I did was cry, of course. What made me cry was remembering something Wil told me right before he left. He made me promise to buy a cement sprinkler ring to fit around a raised sprinkler head just off the edge of the porch. He said the one thing that would be most difficult to fix in his absence would be sprinkler heads and he didn't want me to accidentally bump it with the mower and break it off. I did buy and place the ring and I was very careful around that particular sprinkler head. I thought back to his prophetic words that I wouldn't be able to fix the sprinkler system.
For everything else that broke, Wil assured me I could fix it. He was confident I could replace the pond pump, even though I wasn't. He was confident I could change the truck battery, even though I wasn't. But the one thing that Wil doubted my skills about, the sprinkler system, had just broken in my hand. Of course I cried!
But my resolve kicked in. Even though the tears flowed, I dug up that sprinkler head. I turned on the sprinkler to make the pipe fitting pop up. I got soaking wet. My tears mingled with the sprinkler water. I was covered in mud. The hole I dug filled with water and I was trying to grasp a slippery pipe in a mud-filled hole. I managed to get the pipe up a bit.
I trudged back around the house to turn off the sprinkler, clothes dripping, tears flowing, and muddy from head to toe. It's a good thing none of my close neighbors were outside. I know I was a miserable sight. With the sprinkler off, eventually the water in the hole drained away. I managed to manhandle enough of the hose onto the fitting and rescrew the whole pipe assembly back into the sprinkler. I trudged back around the house, turned on the sprinkler again to test everything and make sure the micro-irrigation system was once again watering the plants it should. After one more trip through the sprinkler spray to turn it off, I think I have it fixed enough to last until Wil's return.
But, I couldn't stop crying. I muttered unkind things about the United States Air Force and softly swore terrible oaths to terrorists everywhere. I rinsed off the biggest of the mud with the garden hose. I went in the garage and closed the door and peeled off my wet clothes, still crying. I came inside to shower, still crying. The tears didn't stop until after I was out of the shower.
All of the past few weeks' frustration bubbled up and out of me. All of the sadness and loneliness of missing Wil came rushing up. All of my fears and doubts and worries and stress poured out through my tears. I am calm now as I write about this. I hope I can maintain this as, once again, I connect with Wil on Skype later tonight. The last thing he needs to see is my hysteria when he is too far away to help.
It does help to talk to him. It does help to hear his reassurance and see his confidence in me. However, it is not the same as having his actual shoulder to cry on, having his real arms around me, and having his affection and caring in person. I realize how fortunate I am to have a video and audio connection to him every night. But don't tell me how lucky I am, because it just does not take the place of having him HERE.
I don't want to be a plumber or auto mechanic or electrician. I want my husband back! I want to take him a cold bottle of water while he mows in the heat. I want to stand by the box to turn the sprinkler system on and off for him as he wrestles with pipes and fittings. I want to bake or sew or plant flowers while he takes on the pumps and circuit breakers. I want to admire his skills as he changes the truck battery. I want to be responsible only for womanly skills I excel at.
So, don't tell me how lucky I am that I get to talk to Wil everyday. Don't try to tell me that 3 months is such a short deployment. Nothing will make me happy until I can have my husband home and my life gets back to the way it should be. Only problem is that he won't be home long before Uncle Sam sends him back to the fray and I am left wearing the work pants in the family again. Sigh.
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