Mommy's Little WHAT???

Once upon a time (seventeen and a half years ago, to be more precise) I brought forth my first born.

He was little, pink, wrinkly and completely helpless.

As the months passed, I kept feeding, cleaning and cuddling him and eventually he could squat in the backyard and play with a garden hose on a hot summer day.

As the years passed, I continued to feed him, teach him how to keep himself clean and cuddle him as much as he would allow (which wasn't much) and eventually he could drive a car and had earned himself the nickname "Honest Abe". (You can see why, I'm sure.)

This next week, my itty bitty baby begins his senior year of high school.



Well, that's not the only momentous occasion of recent times for this boy.

No, indeed.

You see, my boy done went and signed himself over to Uncle Sam.

For quite a while now, Tobias has been talking about joining the military. At first, we just laughed, considering how much he LOVES being told what to do. Oh, and by the way, when we tell him what to do, we don't tag the words "scum sucking maggot" on the end, the inclusion of which makes the whole process so much more enjoyable, I'm sure.

It's a really long story. I've started this post several times and have given up each time once I felt bogged down in all the details, so I'll just be giving you a condensed version.

November, 2011--Tobias took the ASVAB at school.

December, 2011--He found out he scored higher than anyone else at his school that year, receiving a 95.

January, 2012--The Marines started calling...and sending pamphlets and gifts in the mail...and pulling him out of class at school to woo him with tales of heroics and adventures, all of which awaited him as a future Marine...or so they hoped.

Spring, 2012--A couple of Army recruiters sat down at our kitchen table and were able to sway him away from jugheadism and toward soldiery.

(You may be wondering what Jeff and I were thinking and feeling throughout these many months. Well...a LOT of different things but the summary is this: knowing our son and the self-determined, intelligent, needs-to-learn-lessons-the-hard-way-sort-of-a-fellow that he is, we mainly wanted him to make his own decision but to be very informed so he could do that well. Tobias made it clear for months that his intention was to enlist once he turned 18. It was clear that it was happening, so we wanted to be on board to help steer him in the most well-informed, well thought out direction. Still, it's a very weird sensation signing your first born over to Rumpelstiltskin.)

June, 2012--Tobias and I went to the recruiting station to see which MOSes (jobs) were available for which he qualified. There were a lot of them, but not many in which he was interested. We left there very happy that day, though, because he had secured a reservation for a highly unusual MOS--that of firefighter. I was thrilled because it wasn't a combative position and it could give him a huge head-start on a career once he was out of the Army. He was scheduled to have his physical a few days later and as long as everything went well, he would enlist as a firefighter.

Well, during the day long physical at the MEPS (military entrance processing station) it was confirmed that Tobias does not have normal color vision. This disqualified him not only from the firefighter position but almost every other MOS in which he was even slightly interested (37F PsyOps, 35P Crypto Linguist, 35M Intel Collector, 15Q Air Traffic Controller, etc.)

What was left?

11X Infantry.

Oh, dear...neither Jeff nor I wanted that at all.

But wait...

There was one other MOS which sparked the interest of our very odd boy and lo and behold in...

July, 2012--it was available and he qualified for it. This singular MOS which stood between our boy and infantry was...

... 92M.

I must confess, I kept expecting some sort of divine intervention before his enlistment process was complete. I've experienced a few miracles in my life and witnessed some in others' and I thought now was the time for the next one. I wasn't sure how it would be made manifest...maybe a phone call saying that some higher up had waived the need for normal color vision so Tobias could enlist as one of the other jobs that appealed to him. Yeah, something like that.

But it was not to be.

Nope.

It is official...our son signed away several years of his life to become a...

...Mortuary Affairs Specialist.

Honestly, does this look like the face of a future mortician?

Mommy's little crypt keeper

I don't want to seem disrespectful, but it took me a few days to get used to the idea. You see, it's the type of job that everyone solemnly proclaims a "noble profession" as they silently and fiercely thank God that it is not their profession.

Yet, there is a necessity for it, sadly, and there are some people who are intellectually and emotionally fit for such a position. Apparently, my son believes himself to be one of them and actually, I see that he might be right. He's very level headed and is almost completely devoid of sentimentality. (I think his rarely utilized tear ducts shriveled up completely about the same time that his boy-bits descended.)

One thing that helped me see the dignity involved in his future line of work was an HBO movie called "Taking Chance". Starring Kevin Bacon, it tells the real life story of a Marine escorting a fallen Marine home to his family. It shows the difficult and noble efforts that the armed forces make to ensure the honor of the service men and women who give their lives as their remains make their final journey. There were several scenes showing 92M-like workers who play a huge part in that. It is arduous but respected work.

Although this isn't the route we envisioned for him, I'm proud for how he has gone about making this decision and as long as he is engaged in honorable work and pleased with it, then we're pleased as well.

So what's next?

Tobias leaves for basic training in July of 2013. That means we have 11 more months as a domestic family of four.

That's it...ELEVEN MONTHS! It's unbelievable how life just keeps going and going and everything you're comfortable with keeps morphing into something new.

Dear God, thank You for the time we've had; help us live the rest of it honorably and thankfully.

Amen.