When Astrid told me that she was going to go into the service, I wanted her to go only because I was sick of her at home. To say that she had a bad attitude is an understatement. She was getting physically aggressive with me and was belittling to me and her siblings. Me signing her in was for my sake, not hers and I decided not to sign her in. My husband wanted her to go in. He does not read my blog, and I feel comfortable being honest here. I had her research the way the military treated their soldiers (specifically their veterans) and she came up with answers and still wanted to go in. I refused to sign and my husband proceeded to harass me and belittle me about signing her in. She was under age and my signature was personal to me, but I was under duress (without going into detail, he began constantly berating me for it whenever he saw me) and I had nowhere else to go. It was six weeks before she turned 18 and could sign herself in, but he said that it was something to do with her going in with her core group. He maintains that he was acting in the best interests of our daughter, but I don’t think that it was, and it was something that he should have never done.
I signed her in and came home thinking that she’d be happy with me, but she muttered something about me getting rid of her sooner, and her father said that I should have signed her in earlier.
Oh well. I have my ways of coping!
Astrid is now at basic training. I’m not glad that I was unable to leave my home when I was being told (ordered?) to sign her in, and I really wish that she’d just waited until she turned 18 to get the ball rolling on her paperwork. She is there now and I love my daughter regardless of what she did before she left. I have to say that there are few things that best getting letters from her telling me how glad she is that when she used to talk back at me, I made her drop and give me 100 push-ups, or today she asked me to make my fried chicken and homemade macaroni and cheese. She has teased me and called me an “amateur” over the 100 push-ups because I let her do them "in bad form" and she had to relearn them, but she arrived there, somewhat used to doing them! She always enjoyed the combination of food, but she would sometimes scoff at the time I put into them, or roll her eyes when I told her of the importance of adding freshly grated Gruyere and sea salt. She would see me write letters and do artwork for friends and she was curious about how I could put effort into someone, but now she wants my artwork and she wants to show her mates. I am glad that I have seen her appreciate me! The past two years with her were their own kind of hell over which I will not elucidate—there were thankfully no run-ins with the law, but just believe me when I say that she was her own cloud of chaos.
I have no doubt that she will graduate. Soon I will have a daughter in the service. I hate war, but I am proud of my daughter for her hard work and the work that I know she will do. All the snarky things that she did as a teenager seem like they happened in another life. I cannot wait to fly down and see her graduate and make her friend chicken and homemade macaroni and cheese. Next time she comes home, she will relish making dinner with me, and even offer to help!