Within all the madness that was going on (See This Means War, and This Means War pt. II to catch up), I had called my in-laws. Clark's father was in the Corps at this time, not to mention a somewhat high ranking officer. I called asking for help, and no one had been available.

Later I had an e-mail from Clark’s mother, one that made me out to be the one who was wrong. “The Marine Corps is different than the Army.” That’s one saying I will never stop hearing from those in the Marines. “We’re different.”

His mother had, in fact, spoken to Staff Sergeant and he had been “nothing but strawberry shortcake,” to quote her. This only added to my anger and battle attitude.

The night after talking to Clark and First Sergeant, I sat down and wrote two complaints: one against the Staff Sergeant, the other against the First Sergeant.

I pulled all the facts, used “military language” and was ready to fight it to the end. Luckily I had a father in the military, so he knew how the system worked. He told me exactly what to do, specific sayings to use, and to demand consequences be enforced. I felt like such a bad ass, excuse the saying. I was ready to show those men that the dependent could be just as tough as the one’s they were training. I was ready to show them that I was just as important as my husband, and they shouldn’t mess with me. Above all, they shouldn’t mess with women who know how the system works, because then they really get in to trouble.

After a lot of tweaking here and there from me, my mom, and my dad, I submitted my IG (Inspector General) complaint. I only submitted one for the two men, but since they overlapped it seemed necessary. I asked for two full written apologies. Though I never received them, I later found out that once that complaint went through- my husband was untouchable. He didn’t get in trouble, because they knew if they slipped again I would be there ready to burry them.

The next morning my phone rang at six o’clock. Not recognizing the number, I was slow to respond. It rang again, and I picked up.

“Good morning, beautiful.” I heard on the other line.

“Hi.” Give me a break, it was early.

“I’m calling you from Staff Sergeant's personal cell phone to let you know that we are at the post office over-nighting you the money. Staff Sergeant is being very generous letting me do this.”

“Oh, I bet he is.”

“Is there anything else you need?”

“No, sweety, nothing else.”

“Ok, Staff Sergeant wishes to speak with you. I love you,” he said it robotically so I didn’t respond. I waited, hoping that maybe, just maybe, I would hear him. “I love you,” he repeated softly.

“I love you, too, baby.”

“I’ll write you soon.”

Staff Sergeant got on the phone. He gave me some explanation as to why the money hadn’t been sent out last night and blah blah blah. He asked if there was anything else I needed, and I smiled. “No, sir, that seems to be it for now.”

“Very well. Please let us know when you receive the money.”

This was before my complaint was sent in. Before he knew who he was messing with, and still I sensed it: fear. He was in trouble for lying to his superior, telling him he had spoken to me. He was in trouble for relaying personal information to next-of-kin of the recruit: Clark’s mother. He was in trouble, and it was all because of me, and I was so proud. Even before the complaint was sent in, before all was right and justified, he was scared. It was an amazing feeling.

I do understand their protocol. After all, there are wives out there who would empty the husband's bank account and leave them. There are girlfriend's out there who would want access to that money, possibly for the same reasons. There arem mothers, families, friends and acquaintances who would take advantage of the fact that the person was at bootcamp and the money was there, completely fair game. It's sad that's how things are these days. What I was so upset about was that they were treating me like a common day criminal. It felt as though it should have been a judgement call, but I guess Staff Sergeant or First Sergeant would have fallen if I had turned out to be one of "those" people. Seems to me, though, they took a fall anyway.

Clark's letters improved after that. He seemed to understand what was going on where I was, and that he needed to be on my side, not their side. After all, he had to come home to me-- they were only in his life for a 13 week period. While they may be shaping his golden career, I still had to come first in his life. It was a hard lesson to learn, especially at the ripe age of 20, but we never did anything the easy way.

As Valentine's Day approached, Clark wanted to find a way to surprise me. He wanted it to be special, and he kept hinting at a dog. Like that's what we needed.

We had just moved into our new place (see Move #3). It was said to be "pet friendly", but our lease technically said we were only allowed "one small cat", aka Coconut. I told Clark if he was thinking of anything (which he shouldn't have been because we couldn't afford it), he had to check with our landlord first.

Valentine's Day came. One of my sorority sisters and I went shopping for her boyfriend and Clark. I bought him a box of Reeses chocolates and a stuffed dog with a "be mine" or "love you" heart in his mouth... something to that affect. Clark says, "What a coincidence, I found you a puppy, too!"

We were headed to Asheville. Only after I had a job interview, though. I got the job (working at Calvin Klein), so it seemed to justify the fact that we were about to possibly add to our family.

We went to just look. Clark had found this puppy named "Twist" at the Asheville PetCo... Pet Smart... one of the two... who was a husky mix. We just wanted to see her, and explore the options of being parents to another pet.

I fell in love. This other family started holding her and I just couldn't imagine them taking her home. The parents were waivering. Thinking that maybe they could bring a puppy home. They said they'd go home and talk about it. They returned "Twist" to the pen.

I swooped in and picked up this positively adorable puppy and knew, instantly, that she was meant to be mine.

This is where the, "WARNING, WARNING," siren should have been going off, right? Letting me know that I was being impulsive. That I was rushing into a decision.

Even Clark was questioning it. But I wanted her.

So, we talked to the girl who had been her "foster mom". We talked to the women who were in charge. We wrote a check. We filled out the paper work.

She was ours. We only had to wait a week (or two, I can't quite remember the length of time it truly was) and we could bring her home.

As we finished our day out and about, I started to ponder... and the week (or two) passed, and I pondered some more....

By the time Clark went to get "Twist", I realized that it probably wasn't the best decision. After all, he was working, I was in school, we had only had Coconut for a couple of months and that had gotten us into trouble. Would "Twist" bring about the same things?

But when she was in the car when Clark came to get me from class (he had to go pick her up), and we decided to name her Luna (due to her right eye having a crescent of blue in it) instead of "Twist", I decided we'd see it through.

This is the period that we called our "babysitting" phase. We weren't really sure if we were going to keep Luna or not, so we were constantly inquiring if people mentioned they wanted a dog. While we were training her, raising her, and falling in love with her-- we tried to not really call her "ours".

Did I mention that our parents didn't know we had her this early? (Sorry, mom and dad.) We were so afraid of being accused of being irresponsible (which we were) and being told that we should get rid of her (which we knew), that we just kept it to ourselves that we had her.

Luna, just like Coconut, would lead to some troubles of her own.

We're having to make some changes around our house. That means that my recipes to come will be a little more budget-friendly. Not to say that they haven't been in the past, but I'm going to be making it a goal to make them revolve around things that you should/could/would have just lying around the house on a regular basis. I mean, let's face it, not everyone always has heavy cream or buttermilk in their fridge, or any extract other than vanilla in their cupboard, or frozen lemonade concentrate (recipe to come) in their freezer.

While the ingredients may be more "ordinary", do not think I'm going to attempt to come up with anything but extraordinary recipes.

Why suddenly "blogging on a budget"? I've learned that if you don't have all the money in the world (or, at least, a lot of money), then odds are you shouldn't try and act like it. People focus on money WAY too much these days, even in the blogging community. If you don't have a lot of money, then you have to be a super-do-it-yourself type person to win the readers over. Sadly, I'm stuck in-between. However, I feel like there are plenty of people out there who are very much the same as me-- stuck in the middle, that is.

One thing we seem to struggle with when we start having to make budget cuts is healthy food/recipes. Let's face it, when you're eating on a budget it's so much easier to get the instant foods, like mac & cheese or SpaghettiO's, than it is to try to plan out your grocery list for as many recipes with as many fresh ingredients as possible for as little cash as you can spare. For some reason, it's cheaper to eat processed foods than it is to eat fresh foods. Shouldn't it be the opposite?

So... here I am... stuck between do-it-yourself-land and land-of-the-rich trying desperately to figure out what to do in order to survive.

Luckily, I have this blog to keep me "grounded". Where would I be if I didn't have The Newfangled Housewife? Giving in to that mac & cheese or SpaghettiO's, that's where.

If you have any recipes to share, tips for grocery shopping, or anything that you think may come in handy with my "blogging on a budget", please do share!

Monday was picture day for us! I kept putting off blogging about my power-push because I wanted to share pictures, well here are some that turned out BEAUTIFULLY!

If you're in Western North Carolina or Eastern Tennessee, seriously look up Courtney Valentine. So gifted!

I tried to cut back on how many I was going to include in the post, but I just couldn't help sharing quite a few...

(2008)

When I was in high school, my teachers always told me that college was the best time of their lives. I heard the same from my mom. Being a college student offered you a world of opportunity and a life to really enjoy. It was the time of life that you got to focus on yourself, before stepping into the big-bad-world and having to deal with everyone else.

It wasn't exactly that way for Clark and me.

Not saying that it wasn't four of the greatest years of my life. Simply saying that we had to really work at balancing being teens/early twenties young adults with our marriage. What you learn when you get married is that marriage isn't easy. What you learn when you get married young is that marriage is extraordinarily difficult.

In the fall of 2009, I was a busy-body. I was in a sorority, I was working, I was taking classes I loved, I was an intern for the school paper, I was married, and I was loving life. Balancing everything seemed to give me a healthy load of stress. To me, there are two types of stress: good and bad. I was in the good.

Clark really wasn't.

It's not that he wasn't enjoying life, it's that Clark was struggling with his search. He had withdrawn from the four year college and started a degree with a community college. Then he decided that he wanted to move away from that and pursue another four year degree online. He was thinking of doing the Marine Corps as an officer. He wanted to be a pilot.

I was supportive.

I knew Clark needed to find whatever it was he was looking for. As long as he didn't stray from me and our commitment, I knew we would be ok.

However, because Clark was struggling, I had to give him more time. I had to reorganize, re-prioritize, and sometimes (a lot of the time) sacrifice things I wanted to do with friends or for school, and instead do things/spend time with him.

Many people didn't understand. I mean, 18-22 year olds aren't exactly the most mature people yet. Some of my sorority sisters barely acknowledged me simply because they all assumed I was no fun. When we went through "big-little" interviews, I got, "Oh, you're the married one!" Apparently that meant I was an old fart.

It was the same for other things outside of the sorority, too.

I missed our first date function for the sorority, homecoming, because Clark had gotten me tickets to see Michael Buble for our one year anniversary. I was beyond excited for the concert, but no one else seemed to be excited for me. It was a bigger deal that I was missing homecoming than it was for me to be going to see Michael Buble with my husband in celebration of one year of marriage.

It made me feel like I was in high school, sometimes. Like going to the school dance was more important than anything.

Over all, I'd say I did a good job. I learned what my priorities really were, as a student and a wife. Even if I made some poor decisions in the moment, I don't regret learning the "hard" way whatsoever.