Angst, yes? One blog full of angst and teeth-gnashing, and the next lighthearted garage sale tallies.
I never intended for this blog to be "diary-esque." At one time, I had another blog, on another station, used for the sole intent of venting. Spewing. Working off steam, coping with changes, ranting, raving.
I worked through it somewhere along the line, the rant grew tiresome.
And yet, here I am, I could not hold back the emotional barrage of the last week. In fact, you have no idea. And comments and e-mails have poured in, and though I never meant to burden you with every gory detail, I feel a responsibility now to report:
Brian did NOT sign with the Marines. Apparently they made some bogus promises, go figure. I was relieved that he recognized it, and passed.
He is, however, now looking at the Army. A Suh-WEET $20K signing bonus they are offering him, after bootcamp and a preliminary class. $20K by 2006. The U.S. Army is a stranger in a van, offering candy to my 19-year-old son.
I don't know who I am here.
Is this even about me?
The bottom line is: I do NOT want my son to go to the into the military. I don't want him to see war. Death. Blood. The kid is still terrified of a needle for christsakes, and no matter how many times we've locked horns (believe me, it's aplenty!) I still have maternal instinct enough to want to protect him from witnessing these things. Hell, I'd want to protect ANYONE from witnessing these things, why not my son too?
I have sat him down and asked him: If he had the option to go to the trade school he dreamed about earlier, would he choose it over the military?
He suggested maybe yes.
I asked him for this reason: I don't want him to make the military his choice out of desperation, out of believing he has no other options, out of thinking he's a financial or emotional burden.
Am I making a last-ditch attempt to manipulate him out of making this decision?
I have no idea. I like to think not, but it might be clear to you all that it's clearly the case.
Perhaps CJ got to me, and I am trying to clear my conscience; perhaps I need to know, if he marches off, that I did everything in my power to change his mind, and he went anyway.
And yes. CJ got to me. You all got to me. Everything you've said, every "you can't control him," every "you should talk to him", every "did you consider..." has cut through my soul. I am listening, and trying to do everything right here...
And the bottom line is...
It's his life. And