Knee Deep in the Hooah!

I am not sure if this is a laughing or crying matter, but it’s one that Mr. Hooah! and I have been discussing with a playful and joking tone. It’s just like a person trained in mental health to start over analyzing things and take all of the fun out of what seems to be innocent play. Of course we are trained to ask if anything is really innocent, or if there is always some grain of truth or fact that is being worked through even in playful banter.

I am beginning to wonder if the Sirens in Homer’s writings and those portrayed through out Greek Mythology, are really based on wives who were afraid of losing their loved ones to war. I know the manifestation of the Siren is varied and they are mostly portrayed as entities of the sea. They sing a song that distracts and entraps the Sailor at a level that transcends physical needs and speaks to his soul.

Of course I think that there are also dead men’s bones intertwined with the appearance of the Sirens, and such, and in Homer’s writings, if a Sailor wanted to listen to the Sirens he had to be tied to the ships mast and whipped or something to that effect.

I am not talking about tying people up or whipping them, so don’t think we have gone deviant or anything. No, there are other ways to distract soldiers from their missions. I don’t think it’s intentional, but maybe it’s a bit of sweet sabotage? Let’s explore this. I wonder if I am the only wife who does this. I haven’t heard others talk about this, but I am willing to bet I am not.

The Siren’s were the ultimate temptresses.

I think I am becoming a temptress in my own right now that Mr. Hooah! is getting close to taking that APFT and joining the ranks again. I am accomplishing this by spoiling him rotten, fattening him up and keeping him complacent. I didn’t even realize I was doing it, but he was jokingly asking me if I was trying to keep him fat and happy so that he wouldn’t want to go back in. Then it dawned on me. I saw in my head the decadent dark chocolates I keep leaving for him (his favorites), his favorite wines, his favorite meals, etc., etc.

Of course there is a part of me that is an intense nurturer. So, part of this is my own way of lavishing him because I know what is on the horizon for him — probably later than sooner, but deployment is always on the tip of our tongues in this house.

I do the same thing to Toy Soldier. The poor guy comes home and I immediately start cooking. I can’t help it. He loves bread, and by the time he leaves he has had more than his fill. I love to feed him.

I do think that this has more to do with lavishing them with the daily things that so many of us take for granted, but things I know that they have gone without for extended periods of time. They never complain, but I know what they have given up.

Actually the longer I think about it I think I am a “Siren a la Florence Nightingale.” Yeah. That works.