Comfort Zone

My mind has been too full, for too many weeks to write.  I've had to filter through so much, trying to decide what words need to come out.  To summarize the events that have caused this mental turmoil, the Air Force has not been kind of recent to our family.  They have promised holidays, time off, and breaks in deployments, only to change and withdraw them, always for the worse.  Deployments got longer and more frequent, time home cut shorter and shorter.  They have told us we're moving, then told us we can make new plans, then told us we're moving again.  The goodbyes, time apart, to and fro, and constant changing of plans that affect not just my DH, but our whole family, has been a strain on what little peace our family clings to.

A word of caution to anyone considering military service- this is neither unusual nor "unfair".  It simply is.  When you sign a contract, they can say or do whatever they want to you, and if you have a family, remember it will effect them just as much as it affects you.  You quite literally sign your life away, in exchange for a job and benefits for the time on the contract.

For us, that contract meant the military would pay for DH's college and flight school, in exchange for 10 years of service after he received his wings.  It also means a paycheck for that time, a housing allowance, healthcare, and many many logged flight hours to take with him when he leaves.  Thus far the Air Force has kept their end of the deal.  We aren't owed anything more than that.  That contract doesn't mention happiness in the job, satisfaction with the work, and regular or even reasonable working hours.  We don't regret the decisions made back when we were young and in college, no matter how naive we were in making them.  This was the best option for my husband to be a pilot.  And despite the disillusionment we've come to have with the unstoppable U.S. Air Force, we're not entirely ungrateful for the opportunities it's given our family, despite how dearly we have and continue to pay.

The upcoming moving plans will be sending us out west, to New Mexico.  For many, back west is where they want to go, where their hearts lie.  Not mine.  My comfort zone is filled with full, big, beautiful deciduous trees, turquoise beaches, seasons, warm humid air, regular soft rain showers, fireflies, and breezes where you can hear waves or the rustle of leaves.  It's where people say "ya'll", where good BBQ is found, and where the locals have ancestors who fought in the American Civil and Revolutionary wars.  I like to roll down the car windows and smell summer honeysuckle in the wind.  I love peaches off a local fruit stand, berry picking, and thunderstorms.  Oh, Dixieland, my comfort zone.

While I love those things, life is not about living within our comfort zones.  Usually you don't even know what that is, until something forces you to move on or change to make you uncomfortable.  God wants us to learn, grow, and find love and beauty everywhere, in everything.  It's too easy in the land of Dixie to do that.  No matter how unwilling we are, it's time for us to move on to new adventures.  When I wrote her about my moving woes, a dear friend and seasoned military daughter sent me a loving letter, full of understanding and sympathy, but also with the advice that I take the Lord's hand, and my husband's in the other, and jump forward into our new life out west, with excitement and anticipation.  I think it might feel a bit like jumping into a cold pool after sunbathing, but I know she's right.  I know I can, and will.

Some of my friends have these cute signs in their homes, that say "Home is Where the Air Force Sends Us", and then hanging from the sign, are planks with each base or location they were stationed at.

I've thought about getting one made myself, but I've never felt like that phrase fit us.  To me, where I call home has nothing to do with the Air Force.  It's like saying "Home is where your kitchen sink is" - not exactly a  false statement, but more accurately a minor coincidence.  The military may tell us where to go, but they can't dictate where I feel at home.  Where the Air Force sends us is where we make our home, but they aren't why, and don't deserve the honor of being on a sign on my wall.  They've already put their name on my husband, everything he wears, and on enough gear, uniforms, boots, notebooks, manuals, maps, and deployment crap to fill an entire bedroom.  After much meditation throughout these weeks and months of turmoil, I finally came up with a better motto.

Home is Wherever we can be Together  

While I may not be in love with the location, and frustrated with the circumstances the Air Force sometimes places us in, all the pieces of my heart are together when all the members of my family are under one roof.

So look away, Dixieland.  I have to leave you for awhile, and move my home to where my family can be together.  I still love you, and will shed an occasional tear for your benefit while in the far away west, and out of my comfort zone.  I don't know if we'll get to come back, or when that could be.  But when I imagine heaven, it's where my home and you are the same.

I asked the girl who made the above sign if she can do a custom order with my new phrase.  I'll add a picture of it to this post when it's done.  While you wait you can listen to Brad Paisley.  His song helped me find the words I needed write today.

A special thanks to Kim, who was willing to take on a special order and make such a beautiful, personally meaningful sign for us.  Check out her store, she's great.  She also has more items on Facebook, you can message her for a link to that!

I dance in my kitchen

      

I dance in my kitchen a lot.  After I put the kids to bed, I turn up my rockin' out tunes, and while I'm sweeping the never quite clean floor, and taking part in that circle of life that is dishwashing (they're never all clean, it's just a rotating circle of sink, to dishwasher, to cupboards, repeat!) I dance.  Not well, of course.  I'm no dancer.  I took 1 tap/ballet class for a month or so when I was 6, and then my DH took me to a ballroom dance class one time during the early stages of dating, when he wasn't yet sure if he should admit he hates dancing.  So I'm no good.  But I love it anyway.  I'm like Baloo the Bear, from Disney's The Jungle Book.  I hear the groove, and I have to move.  It slows down my kitchen cleanup a bit, but it's a nice stress reliever too.  I twist, I shake, I bounce, and I lose myself in the beat for a few minutes.

I realized the other day, that I don't do this all the time.  It's a deployment thing.  I don't know if it's because I'm too self-conscious to completely let loose like that in front of my husband, or maybe I'm worried he'll be annoyed with the loud music.  I've never given it enough thought to know why.  But it got me thinking.  Are there other things I'll miss when he comes home?  Am I even allowed to miss anything about this temporary husbandless existence of mine?

It's strange trying to think about that.  My inner-self splits into two personalities.  One is the loving wife, do-anything-for-your-marriage-and-life-is-miserable-without-him side, and the other is my feminist, you-don't-need-a-man-to-complete-you (add a snap and body roll to that) side.  The feminist tries to think of things I've enjoyed while he was gone, and the loving wife side jumps in and stops those thoughts saying, "It doesn't matter!!!" or "You just did that to pass the time while he was away!!"

It's an odd conflict, and I'm not sure either side ever wins.  Probably because they both are a part of me.  However, I think I will let the feminist have her day, and make my list.  But to pacify the loving wife, I'll add the disclosure that I'd trade the entire list right now for even just snuggling on the couch with my husband, watching football that I'm sort of paying attention to.  Wait- make that college basketball.  Football season is over.  I forgot.  Obviously he's been gone awhile.  ESPN.com and Cougarboard aren't even on our google chrome most visited pages list anymore!!!  They have been replaced with Pinterest, Facebook, Amazon, and the Royal Caribbean Cruise Lines page.  

1.  Online shopping.  I do, of course, still buy things when he's home, but when he's gone I have the "I'm lonely so I'm sending myself a package" excuse.  It's a fabulous excuse, even if half the wearable things get returned because it turns out I don't look as much like the model as I thought I did.

2.  Fast Food.  I cook well when I have a husband to eat it.  Otherwise, I'm not ashamed to admit fast food happens a lot.  Enough for my 4 year old to sigh with happiness and say, "I love drive-thru's!"  It's too frustrating cooking for myself and 3 minis.  Unless it's pancakes, waffles, one of the many forms of hot dogs (hot dogs, corn dogs, pigs in a blanket, chili dogs, hot dogs cut up with beans) or frozen chicken nuggets, someone wont eat it.  Healthy meals I either have to eat myself for a week (because I don't know how to cut my family recipes down) or end up throwing it out.  Both are not ideal.  So fast food and pizza have been our friends.  Don't judge 'till you've walked the 4 month mile.  Or the two month mile, times 7.  

3.  The sewing bug.  I've caught it a few times this deployment, and have made several satisfying projects that make me want to smile, snap a picture, post it somewhere and proclaim, "Yeah, I made that!".  It's not so satisfying however staying up late trying to finish something, while my husband is in bed wondering when sewing became more attractive than him.  When he's gone however, I can stay up 'till 2 am guilt free, finishing up something adorable.

4.  Chick Flicks.  They replace the 4 games of football/basketball/baseball going on simultaneously on the iPad, computer, TV, and phone.  I cry at the good parts, without making anyone concerned for my emotional stability, and don't have to tune out the teasing banter about the obvious lacking in masculinity of the male heroes in my beloved favorite films.  Edward, Mr. Darcy, Tad Hamilton, and the others are safe.

5.  Reading without stopping.  I don't have it in me to give up reading when my DH comes home, but I do try a little harder not to get so lost in my books, that I don't notice he went to bed 3 hours ago.  It's happened, I'm ashamed to say.  But when he's gone, I don't need to use any caution.  No reason to rush off to a cold, lonely bed.  It's not going anywhere, unlike the plot of my book!

6.  Girl Time.  It's much easier planning in girl time, because I can do it pretty much 24-7.  My schedule is wide open.  Virtually.  The kids do have a few things.  But for the most part, when a girlfriend wants to hang out, the answer is most emphatically, "yes!"

7.  Spaghetti, Shepherd's Pie, Chili, Taco Soup.  When I do get around to cooking, I make what I like, and don't need to compromise two sets of tastes.

Seven is a lucky number, so I'll stop there.  I can't think of anything else major at the moment anyway.

To my amazing husband when his internet works long enough to read this, I miss you like a dieter misses doughnuts, like pot roast misses salt, like a city night misses stars, like a Virginia girl living in the desert would miss trees.  Lots and lots.  But, I am a trained resilient girl, and am learning to look for the good things in any situation.  I've found a few, that keep me happy and busy when I'm missing you.  But sleep well knowing none of them come close to spending time with the most important person in my world.

Spilled chocolate milk

I looked my 4 year old in the eye, and said, "now I need you to be so careful with this milk.  I don't have an extra dress for you, and if you spill this chocolate milk all over your dress, we have to go home."

She returned my serious look, and said she understood.  We were sitting in the car, in front of the Burger King on base, scarfing down some lunch before attending an "I'm a hero too" party for children with deployed parents.  The kids had been looking forward to the party all day.

Can you guess what happened 10 minutes into our little meal?  Of course.  Spilled chocolate milk.  All. Over.  She was soaked.  Now what?  We live 30 minutes from base, no time to go get a change of clothes.  Well, I came up with the brilliant idea to go to the BX, and see if I can't find a 4T outfit, and still salvage our afternoon.  For all my non-military readers, the BX stands for Base Exchange, and is sort of like an on-base Wal-mart or Target.

I unbuckled and hustled everyone into the store as fast as their little legs could go, and toddler on my hip, diaperbag on my shoulder, little girls trailing, I grabbed the first outfit I could find.  It was a bright orange, frilly, sparkly, bejeweled top with zebra print capris.  A little more funky than what I usually buy, but Merrylee was pleased, and Anny was grateful her fun day wasn't ruined by a younger sibling.  I tried not to think of all the negative behaviors I was reinforcing as I paid the cashier.

The girls made some new friends at the party, and when I wasn't chasing around my energetic toddler, I was able to grab brief bits of conversation with other tired but stalwart moms fighting the same home-front fight.

After the party, I had planned to brave the mall with my crew so I could return some online purchases, and buy a birthday present.  I lost count of how many times I said in my loudest-but-not-yet-yelling voice, "Do not touch anything!"

We fit the exhausted-mom-shopping-with-too-many-kids mold pretty nicely.  The girls fought and picked at each other, while my nap-depraved son whined in the stroller, and dropped his lovey about every 5 minutes. Still, I managed to make my returns, buy the birthday gift, and even found time to buy a few fragrant hand soaps from Bath and Body Works.  I would have liked to have actually smelled most of their scents and chosen my favorites, but due to a lacking in both time and well behaved children, I went with the first one I liked, another that had a catchy title, and two favorites of the cashiers.

By then everyone was hungry.  I settled for pizza and lemonade in the food court for the kids, and a gyro and flavored fries for me.  The gyro was just ok, but I knew from experience, the fries would be amazing, thanks to their secret recipe seasoning.

I warned Merrylee to be extra careful not to get pizza onto her brand new shirt, and told Anny to be careful with the lemonade, and share with her sister.  Can you guess what happened?  Of course.  Greasy pizza, splat, onto the new shirt.  The lemonade spilled.  Thankfully, there was a lid on the lemonade, so the first initial spill wasn't too bad.  The second, third, and fourth however, took it's toll on our stack of napkins, everyone's laps, and my patience.  I didn't realize we also had a nice little sticky puddle of lemonade on the floor- until Ben dropped his lovey into it.

We went home.  I bathed the kids, we had scripture study, and everyone went to bed before 7.  A little early for a Saturday night, but I was done being a parent.

Feeling drained and a bit fragile, I cut myself a generous slice of leftover black forest cake, and settled into my computer chair, ready to unwind, and prepare my Sunday school lesson for the nursery.  On the LDS website where they have the lesson manuals, I saw this video.  Happy to procrastinate my lesson planning, I watched.



I cannot watch this little video without tearful gratitude for my Heavenly Father's love for me.  My frustrating afternoon and troubles suddenly seemed so infantile and small.  How many things have I taken for granted today?  How many times has God had patience with me, and warned me about bad choices, only to watch me make them anyway?  How many times has He then continued to bless and assist me, despite my imperfections?  He'll clean up spilled chocolate milk. He will turn my mistakes into growth and blessings.  He wont mock me for crying over silly little things, and he'll continually bless me with more ways to be happy.  He will always be there.  He will always provide.  I will never be able to pay Him back, or even fully comprehend all He has done for me.  He doesn't expect me to.  He does everything for me, for the same reason I do everything for my own children.  I love my babies.  Heavenly Father loves me.  He loves me because I am His child, and He is my Father.    

How I can do it

"I don't know how you do it."

I hear that phrase so often when others hear how frequently my husband has to deploy.  They are being kind, and I know that.  Perhaps they are imagining me standing at the doorway, watching as he rolls his bags down the driveway to a taxi, or maybe they can picture too many tender goodbyes he's made to our kids.  They too may know something of loneliness, or the exhaustion that comes from doing things day after day, without help or relief.

How can I do this over and over?  How do I stay happy, raise babies, and keep our house a home, when I so often have to do it alone?  I can do it because of my faith.  I believe in Christ.  I believe that I am a daughter of God, who loves me, and I love Him.  I feel strength when I read the scriptures.  I feel peace when I read them to my children.

I love my husband.  I worry about his safety, and the idea that he may not make it home is ever present in my mind.  While I would never welcome that possibility, I do not fear it.  I know that I am not forgotten.  I know my life matters to God.  He loves my family, and he is there, watching, and helping us everyday.  When I pray about these things, I can feel it in my heart, with a strength I cannot question.

Every year I include a scripture that has special meaning to me in our Christmas card.  This year the choice was very easy.

John 16:33

These things I have spoken unto you, that in me ye might have peace.  In the world ye shall have tribulation: but be of good cheer; I have overcome the world.

This year, as we face another holiday season apart, I will have moments of weakness, grief, and loneliness.  But I believe in Jesus Christ, and He overcame the world.  If he overcame the world, what are my small trials in comparison?  He has helped me, and still will, come what may.

My Florida

My life in beautiful Florida has been bittersweet.  Mixed with crystal blue-green water and sparkling, powder white sand, are the tumultuous feelings of too many goodbyes for our family.  This is the place where we had to learn that being an eternal family doesn't mean you always get to be together.  

Are you tired of reading about the woes of deployments?  What a coincidence!  So am I.  Sadly being tired of something doesn't entitle me to a break.  There are many positives that come with military life.  Rest for the weary however, isn't among them.  The country needs fighters - strong soldiers and families who can do more with less.  With the current financial situation, they work longer hours with less sleep, travel further with shorter periods home, complete missions with smaller teams, and as families, stay together without actually being together very often.  Typically those who risk the most, and have the most dangerous jobs with the highest mortality rate, have some of the lowest salaries and are away the very longest.  I don't know why it has to be like that, but it is.  

Florida has taught me that physically, we do have to let go, and often.  However with patience and slow but steady growth, I've learned those goodbyes are temporary.  We are an eternal family, we made promises in one of God's holy temples, and were blessed that living up to those promises means the bonds of marriage and family will never break.  After all those goodbyes, I know, never doubting, that we will always be reunited.  He will always come home.  And if that worst of all fears happens, and the dearest cost of war touches our family, one day I will come home to him.  No goodbye is final, no separation permanent.  Sometimes the happiness we have together seems brief, but I know I'll have it again.

My mother warned me of possible perils of looking only towards homecomings, and forgetting to live in between.  She is wise and so I have tried to stay happy both when our family is all together and when it is not.  However any of you who have experienced something like this know, that while you continue on with your life, and keep smiling, moving, and living day by day, you're still secretly, acutely aware of that calendar.

If you find this difficult to understand, imagine going without something you love, and use everyday.  Take daily hot showers, for example.  For reasons you don't want, like, or completely understand, you have been told you will not be allowed to shower for a period of four months.  Imagine how that last week of showers before the moratorium begins will mean to you.  Imagine how you'd feel if you were interrupted during those last few showers, or for some reason had to shorten a few of them.  Then imagine that first morning where you crawled out of your warm bed into the chilly morning, and then couldn't go take one.  All day you'd try not to think about it, but you'd be keenly aware of your oily hair, a bit self conscious of your smell, and would probably feel like you were holding up a sign that said, "Yes, it's true, I didn't shower today!"

Now add time to our little example.  As time continues, a part of you would adjust to the change in daily habit.  However do you think there will ever be a day where you can completely forget that you haven't had a shower in days, weeks, or months?  Do you think you'd be able to avoid thinking about that first blissful moment when showers are a part of your life again?  Add to that the complication that you cannot shower or bathe your children either.  Everywhere you go you'd feel like "the stinky family", and in all your misery, you'd have the additional challenge of keeping your kids happy, despite reminding them they still can't play with rubber duckies.  You'd have to listen to them cry about how much they miss bubbles, and splashing warm water at the end of a long day.  How about all those clean people around you, who feel they should give you regular advice about how to not think about showers?  Some of them will even put on sympathetic faces, and oh-so-sweetly say that considering everything you've gone through, you really don't smell that bad.  And because you are a kind, polite person, you're supposed to show genuine gratitude towards those well scrubbed friends with all the advice.

I bet just reading that makes you want to go shower again today!  Me too.    

Oh my sweet, beautiful, Florida, how much I have learned, grown, and changed while strolling your shores!  I don't know how much longer we'll be together, and though not all of our memories are happy, I am at least grateful for the beauty, experience, and wisdom you have given me.  If I could pause time, where my babies are young and sweet, and my husband is home and we are all together, I'd choose that perfect moment to be here, with you!  

Sadly I cannot freeze time for us.  But of all the places to be both happy and sad, it's pretty easy to say this is the best one.  And while I cannot actually live that wonderful frozen moment, thanks to my talented friend, Kaycee, we can at least know what that moment would look like!  Looking at it isn't the same as living it, but it's close.

Make a video - it's fun, easy and free!
www.onetruemedia.com

And to my constant and forever best friend, remember we'll always be at home waiting, loving, and smiling thinking of you, no matter how often you have to leave, or wherever you go.    

Nobody Gets Me Like You . . .

I have a pet-peeve.  Well, actually, I have many (don't we all) but one of them, is this phrase.  In case you haven't read my title, I'm referring to the uneducated, stupid, empty yet well embraced phrase in modern culture, "Nobody gets me like you."

Can we possibly find a more vague, adolescent description of romantic feelings towards one another?  I expect if one responded to this lovely term of endearment with, "well, what do you get about me?" one would find his or her date stuttering and lost with no idea what to say next, because that all-encompassing nothingness of a phrase was the best he or she had.  He/she doesn't really know anything about you except that he/she finds you attractive, and possibly feels comfortable around you.  Hence the "get me" part.  I assume that's what they mean, that they feel comfortable in the presence of said lover, therefore, he/she "gets me".  Gag me now.

While folding laundry I watched the last three episodes of the most recent season of The Bachelorette, where this lovely phrase was uttered between lovers, no exaggeration, over 60 times.

"He just gets me!"
"I love you, because you just really get me"
"No one has ever got me quite like you"
The variations continue in their pathetic monotony.

Don't get me started about that mockery of love tv show.  It feels like one long, awkward first date, except with many men, and in exotic places.  Oh, and of course, it ends with a proposal.  I don't think anyone honestly, truly, really believes that's how love works, or even resembles it.  Yet, so many women get sucked into that nonsense!!!  See, you got me started.  Well, while I'm at it . . . I have a few theories.  I will shamefully admit I am guilty of shedding a tear or two when I saw the proposal, or witnessed earlier poor Sean (2nd to last guy eliminated from Emily's love list) drive home with a devastated, deer in the headlights look of a truly heartbroken man.  I think women are drawn to this show not because they think it has any bearing on true love, but because it's entertaining in a way they can't explain.  I think I can though.  First of all, women need to feel wanted, and here's a show with one woman being desired by 25 men.  25 good looking, succesful, congenial men, who hope to marry her!  Add to that romantic locations, a little drama (admit it women, we all secretly love a little drama, anyone who denies that, is well, in denial!!!) and kisses and embraces from these beautiful men all fighting for her affection, and you have catnip for women.  This human catnip is neither real nor healthy though, my ladies.  I suggest you find something else to fill your time, although, yes, as I said, I too am guilty of losing three hours of my life to that last season.  "Lord, what fools these mortals be!" Shakespeare, A Midsummer Night's Dream.  Now if you really want to watch a true parody of love, that's the comedy for you.  I never get tired of that play!!! 

So- where was I?  Oh yes, trashing on the "Nobody gets me like you" phrase.  If you are a user, rest easy, there is still hope.  Buy a thesaurus, or better yet, book of Shakespearean sonnets!  There are numerous ways to describe true love and devotion in the English language!  You can learn to express yourself.  I believe in you!

Now that I've completely exhausted that tangent, to the point of this post.  I heard a song on the radio, and it totally "got me".  By that, of course I mean I instantly felt drawn to the lyrics and the sweet, touching description of the benefits of marriage over being single.  The song is called Woman Like You by Lee Brice.  It's of course, a country song.  No other genre seems to have mastered the art of beautifying the simple, sweet parts of life, with a mixture of acoustic guitars and a little southern twang.  As Trace Adkins put it so well, country songs are songs about me! 

"...it's songs about me,

and who I am.  

Songs about loving and living

and good hearted women

and family and God.

Yeah, they're all just 

songs about me"

You can see the video and hear that whole song here.  (The Trace Adkins song)  It's a great song, I love it.  


That's of course, why I fell in love with Lee Brice's song, Woman Like You.  It's about me!  It's about a wife who asked her husband that hypothetical question I think most women ask or at least wonder at some point.  

Where would you be today if you weren't married to me?  

Of course what she really means is, 

Are you happy with me, and do you regret getting married or miss being single?    

He answered her in sweetly rhyming verses all the great things he'd be doing, and how they still don't top what he now has with her.  This touches a particularly sensitive note with me, because my husband happens to have a very cool profession, and to the outside world it probably doesn't quite match up to being a family man.  Really, does it get much cooler than being a Special Ops Air Force pilot?  No, no it doesn't.  

He looks pretty darn suave in his green flight suit, combat boots, and Oakley sunglasses.  And yet this extraordinary man I married is happiest in a worn out t-shirt, pair of cargo shorts, flip flops, and rolling around on the floor with his kids.  If he were single he'd probably own a plane of his own, drive a cool new motorcycle, and have time to both ride it, and keep it maintained!  Right now his bike lays hopelessly unrepairable in our garage, with no time in the foreseeable future to fix it.  If he didn't have a family, he wouldn't feel so torn when he has to deploy so often,  he could watch as much college football as he wants, and probably join an adult amateur league of flag football or soccer, instead of coaching a team of five-year-old girls.  (No offense to Anny and the other Green Butterflies!)  

His life could be in the worldly sense, much, much cooler, and we both know it.  I probably know it a little too much, and like the pretty girl in the music video, I fish a little to get him to remind me he's happier now than he would be without poopy diapers, messy kitchens, toys to trip on, babies crying at night, putting up with a hormonal pregnant wife 3 times . . . oh and how the list goes on!  Yet family craziness aside, he's happy.  He wants exactly what he has!  He may not be able to compose a country song about it, but I'm not too bad at ryhming, so I made an attempt to write my own verses to that song, dedicated to the number one man in my life.  I'm crazy about you, and can't tell you what it means to me that you prefer us over what would be a very exciting life for a single man.  If you ever want to whisper in my ear your own reasons for those decisions, even if I think I already know them, well, let's just say I'd be ok with that.     

Here are my knock-off verses.  Not quite as smooth as Mr. Lee Brice, but I think they have their own personal charm.  

If he was still a single man he’d,

never have to drive a mini van,

He’d have more time for football games,

Eat more Rice-a-Roni and chicken wings.

He’d live somewhere with a water view,

time to fix a motorcycle or two. 

I know he’d own that dream airplane,

If I’d never known his name.

Going overseas wouldn’t be so tough,

No goodbyes makes it not so rough.

There’d be time to study for a masters degree,

Time for the gym, even time for sleep. 

Life would be simple and carefree,

Without a family, without me. 

Now that I’ve got your attention,

I suppose I forgot to mention,

I’m so happy he came my way,

I can never have too many days,

Watching him coach our daughter’s soccer team,

Pushing our kids on the back yard swings.

Though he does love Rice-a-Roni,

I know it’s no trade for being lonely.

Football games are way more fun,

While holding his sleeping newborn son.

Flying overseas is hard to do,

But it’s nice having someone to come home to.

There are things he gave up to be a husband and father,

We’ll probably never have that house on the water.

Time for motorcycles has come and gone,

When you spend all your Saturdays mowing the lawn.

Yet as soon as you’re home, your kids come running to see you,

We all just want to be near you. 

We’ll follow you to the middle of no-where,

It will be happy to us, as long you’ll be there.

This all, I’m sure, is nothing new,

We’re grateful, Daddy, we love you.    

Married to the Military

I recently read a "letter from a military spouse", that had been published in a newspaper.  She gave some insight about things most women married to the military experience, that the general public may not be aware of.  I've seen similar writings.  This last one made me start to wonder, if I were to write such a letter, and knew it had the potential to be read by many, what would I say?

After much deliberation, I decided I'd want to let those outside military life to know, that our lives aren't tragic.  There seems to be a commonly accepted opinion that spouses of soldiers are victims of a sort, leading mournful lives of goodbyes and heartache.  It's true the separation that tends to come with military life is difficult.  It's more than difficult.  But it does not mean we are always sad.  Nor are our lives less idealistic than anyone elses.

When friends or neighbors hear about my husband's frequent deployment schedule, I commonly hear hear phrases such as, "Wow, I don't know how you do that.  I never could" or "Bless your heart, that sounds miserable".  Someone even said once, "It seems you're doing your best with a bad situation".  

I know they mean well with their comments, and are trying to express some sympathy and understanding that I am doing something hard.  The kindness behind their comments doesn't go unrecognized.  However what I wish I could say in response is, "yes, it is hard, but we are happy."

Naturally I don't mean it makes me happy to send my husband off over and over.  I cry, I worry, and I miss him terribly.  But I also do what any other positive person does when presented with trials we all must endure.  I focus on the blessings we have, and remember that they are many!

Nephi, an ancient prophet who lived 500 years before the birth of Jesus Christ, saw much hardship in his life.  He helped lead his family across the ocean and to the American continents.  After arriving in this new land, his family settled and built homes.  However after his father died, his older brothers set plans to kill Nephi and his family.  They resented him and their father for leading them away from Jerusalem.  Despite the many miracles they witnessed, they refused to acknowledge it was God who preserved them and led them to the new land.  Nephi and all those who believed in God left their homes yet again.  They traveled for many days with their families before they felt safe enough to settle and rebuild.  Reading that I think most people would find Nephi's lot a sad and difficult one.  Not ideal, I think we all would say.  However after settling again, Nephi records this short but beautiful verse:

2 Nephi 5:27 And it came to pass that we lived after the manner of happiness.

I think I understand why Nephi wrote that.  If I could speak to the world about what my life is like as a military spouse, I'd say the same.  We live after the manner of happiness.  My husband has a job he loves and knows is meaningful.  His work provides us with everything we need and want.  We've had the opportunity to live in many places, and have met so many good people.  The separations have caused us to deeply appreciate the time we have together. It has brought us closer to family and friends who have been there during times of need.

Military life isn't a curse, it's a choice, and we've been happy in the life it has provided.  I will admit it has been harder than what I imagined when I said yes to a handsome ROTC boy asking for my hand.  It has not been without challenges, challenges unique to this lifestyle.  However no family is spared from hardship.  Every bride discovers marriage isn't living a fairy princess life.  Every new husband finds he's never at home as much as he'd like to be.  Earth life comes with weariness, loneliness, sorrow, and pain.  Families of military members do not have a monopoly on trials.  If being in the military has presented us with more challenges than the average family, then it has blessed us, because it has caused us to learn quickly how to effectively follow the example of Nephi.  We had to recognize right away any difficulty or trial can be endured if we seek to live after the manner of happiness.  

The next time you see your friend struggling in the grocery store with her children, knowing her spouse wont be home to help her for several months, or you notice her sitting at church by herself, mowing her own lawn, or going to the movies alone, give her your love, keep her in your prayers, but don't mourn for her.  You have more in common with her than you think.  Remember if she looks happy, she is.  She devotes her life to living after the manner of happiness, just like you.

Vapor Rub Tissues

Last week I was awesome.  I said goodbye to my DH at the airport, gave myself the rest of the day for some therapeutic wallowing, and woke up Tuesday feeling strong and ready to roll.  I stuck to my R.I.C.E diet like a champion.  That's my list of coping mechanisms.  Anyone who's going through something needs a list.  I attended a seminar about how to survive military deployments a couple years ago, given by an author who wrote an encouraging book on the subject.  She suggested making a physical list of things that help you feel better, and to post that list somewhere obvious, like the bathroom mirror.  If you begin to notice you haven't been doing anything on that list for awhile, that's a sign you're slipping, and might need some help.  This time around, my list is my RICE diet.

Reading

Indexing

Crocheting 

Exercise

Those are a few things I enjoy, keep me busy, and make me feel better.  I fully embraced all of them last week.  I started a new book, and stayed up late a few nights getting lost in it's pages.  I began a list of little crocheting projects, and looked up some new patterns to try.  I exercised 4 times last week, which took some effort, but was worth it.  I became an official "indexer".  Indexing is the process of reviewing scanned genealogical records such as birth certificates, draft papers, baptismal records, etc. and entering the basic information from them into a system that makes the information searchable and available for anyone trying to find their ancestors.  It's fun and addicting, and you can learn more about it here.  

I also found time to do all the laundry, which is especially hard the first week of a deployment, because I have to wash and fold all my husbands things he wore the previous week, knowing he wont wear them for awhile.  It's a bit of a downer, but I did it.  I kept up with the dishes, vacuumed the entire house, cleaned the curtains in my bedroom, took a field trip to a history museum, attended a church activity, and made a new friend.  A week to be proud of!!

My running start came to a halt this morning though, when I woke up with a stuffy head, and constant runny nose.  Isn't it interesting how those come together?  Interesting in a frustrating way, that is.  You'd think with the leaky faucet nose, that the pressure in my sinuses would be relieved.  Sadly no.  Taking a sick day means no exercise.  However it doesn't mean I get a break from making meals, laundry, housework, or taking care of the kids.  They have to get done, and there's no one else to do it.

They say military wives are tough, so I decided to give tough a try.  I took some Sudafed and Tylenol, and got to work.  I had to mail a package to my DH- there were some things he left at home it turns out he needs.  On the way to the post office, we stopped by the grocery store.  The girls were being loud and obnoxious, but as long as they didn't get in the way of other customers, I didn't have the energy to scold them.  I was the picture perfect example of that worn out looking mom in the grocery store, who gives homemakers a bad name.  I should have worn a shirt that said, "Deployed Dad, sick Mom, don't judge".

My attitude sank lower still we when got in line to check out.  In front of us was an airman, looking sharp in his blues (aka the more formal looking AF uniform of blue dress pants, lighter blue shirt, and shiny shoes) holding a bouquet of very pretty flowers.  My heart dropped to my stomach.  I'd forgotten about "Blues Monday".  All local active duty personnel have to wear their blues on Mondays.  When my DH is home, I love blues Mondays, because he looks dashing in his uniform.  I miss that when he's gone, and usually make a note not to visit grocery stores on Mondays, because it's painful to see all the soldiers picking up last minute things at the store for their families, knowing my husband's not one of them.  Watching the airman in front of me pay for his beautiful bouquet of light pink roses and lilies, I sighed inwardly and placed my vapor rub tissues on the counter.

I'm still awesome, and plan to pick up my RICE diet again as soon as I can kick this cold.  I'm down, but not out.  Not yet!  Maybe when I'm done with the tissues, I'll turn my tissue box into this:


The only thing that could make that more perfect, is my handsome man in his blues, hand delivering it.  Maybe in approximately two and a half months.

It's a Love Story

Our "Love Story" isn't unique, or heart wrenchingly dreamy. I suppose there is some romance to being married to an Air Force pilot, but no happy couple likes to be separated by hundreds of miles, no matter how patriotic the cause, and that's what pilots do. They fly away. However despite the heartache I know will come with my husband's first deployment, I can still say with all my heart it's worth it for the moments he's here. He really is my Romeo, knight in shining armor, and Prince Charming all in one. Not to mention he's very much a hero in our daughters' eyes. I love Taylor Swift's song Love Story, because despite its unrealistic lyrics of princes and princesses in love, it still reminds me of our own story. Probably because underneath all her pretty descriptions is a song about real, intoxicating, everlasting, butterflies-in-your-tummy love, and that's what we have.