Some Things Never Change

A couple months ago while hanging out at the base pool, a friend and I observed how there seems to be a hotbed of close activity between members of the opposite sex and one specific location in the pool.

And this is the family pool I am speaking about.

We would sit a chuckle over why/how the idea of this kind of closeness would even enter their minds while kids splash around them.  Kids that aren't even theirs.  Are they that deprived?  Are they that oblivious to the 50 families, kids in swim diapers, games of Marco Polo, life guards every 25 meters, and the fact they are hanging out by the swim lanes...swim lanes that have people wearing goggles?  

Received a text yesterday from my friend:

Why is there always "that couple" at the pool?  I swear if it was adult swim they would be getting busy.  Guess where they are...The middle of the pool!!!  Some things never change.

Good to know they at least they had the propriety to not scar the children around them for life!  

Made me a bit sad to read that text because if it wasn't for this bleeping PCS, I know I would have been parked right next to her laughing about the couple who can't keep their hands off each other. But another part of me was happy, because it is a reminder that while my life has changed, it is true that some things will never change. People come and go at a military base, but that area of the pool will always be popular! 

Life goes on!

Ready, Set, DEAL!

It is an odd thing...moving. You are still you but in completely different surroundings.  You feel like everything should still be the same while living in chaos and with no routine.

Or am I the only family member that is expected to still be myself?

This is not intended to be a whine-fest or for me to complain.  This is simply my observation and not a poor-woe-is-me moment.  This is my life and I fully accepted my circumstances.

The kids are allowed to behave different.  The husband is allowed to adjust.  Even the dogs get a pass on behavior.  But I put on my AF spouse panties and get things back to normal ASAP.

Last week I had to "deal".  

• Deal with the movers.
• Deal with unpacking every box with the exception of the garage, which hubby was kind enough to take off my hands
• Deal with preparing breakfast, lunch, and dinner while unpacking boxes.
• Deal with going to the grocery store to prepare those meals.
• Deal with finding the grocery store.  And home improvement store.  And wholesaler.  
• Deal with curtains, pictures, and organization to get our house looking like home.
• Deal with unbrotherly sibling love.
• Deal with registering those brothers in school.
• Deal with walking our elderly dog at least 5 times a day since climbing the deck stairs is like Mt. Everest to him.
• Deal with taking other dog to the vet because the best time for an ear infection is smack dab in the middle of a move.  
• Deal with everyday chores:  laundry, bills, and begin cleaning the house.
• Deal with hubby's new work schedule which is pretty much sun up to sun down.  

It was a loooonnnnggg week.  I chose to deal with the majority of those issues all at once; seems the faster I can get our house put together the faster the other three humans in my house adjust which makes things easier on me.  Things get back to normal when momma hustles her booty.


My husband and boys did help tremendously...I was not alone in the unpacking.  But since I am COO of this house, all decisions pass by me. If I had curled into a ball and cried or not felt like doing anything, I think everyone would have freaked out: "What the hell is wrong with Mom?  What do we do?"

Now we can begin to live our lives again.  Well, maybe not we; rather, they begin to live their lives.  I will still be on "deal" mode until school begins.

And then I will be able to deal with the emotions of moving and begin to find my way once more.

Temporary Halt

Well, our time is here.  PSC time.  Please be patient for the next few weeks while I move my life.

Thanks,
Heidi

Be-ing

A friend of mine recently and joyfully welcomed home her husband after a year in Afghanistan.  She spent the last 12 months creating a daily routine for herself and their three kids.  A routine which created the groundwork for survival during the deployment.  This routine was her life preserver, something she clung to like a child with a blankie.  And just as said child would throw a tantrum when that blankie is taken away, my friend is set adrift on the sea of reintegration without her life preserver.

Oh, she has done this before.  This ain't her first rodeo.  But this time was different simply because the kids were different, or should I say, older.  A box of mac 'n cheese chased with a Blues Clues video wouldn't cut it this time around.  She had to deal with female teenage angst, male preteen uncertainties, and the youngest who would not let her out of his sight.

I could hear her sigh from all the way at my house, and we live two streets over.

The much beloved hubby can't understand the need for some continuity of the routine now that he is back.  He wants her to stay around him all the time.  But aha!  My friend is one smart cookie and knows that a bit of time apart, a bit of the old routine, is indeed a good and necessary thing for the mental stability of all.

Which explains why she is still parking her butt in the patio chair by the pool each weekday morning at 6am to watch swim practice, right next to me.  The thought of her, or her children, joining the base swim team two summers ago would have provoked laughter from all who know my friend, but desperate times called for desperate measures, and when daddy left a year ago, swim team is what kept them moving all summer long.  And now it is swim team that allows her to come up for air and give both her and her husband breathing room to begin the day.

I can sympathetically understand her husband's difficulty with rejoining a family who has a routine that did not/does not include him, but I have empathy for my friend who needs that time in the morning to gab with the girls, and begin the day with idle chatter instead of a bunch of questions concerning the day's schedule.

It is her time to just be.

Door to Door Moves...Why Have You Forsaken Me???

There is one thing as a military spouse that I have yet to successfully experience:  A door-to-door move.

It is not for lack of trying.  We have tried every stinkin' time, putting all our eggs into the "oh...we have plenty of on-base houses available" basket.  Due to many reasons, stemming from mouse turds all over the house (and I do mean ALL OVER) to opening the back door to find the neighbor's dog tied with a 12 foot rope, which gave the dog plenty of length to charge us and reach the door, we have never been able to pull this off, so are faced with one housing purgatory after another while waiting for housing that won't put our family in danger.

There was the time we lived in an apartment for one week before getting the call, a phone call we were told to expect in two months, to live on base.  Or the time we squatted with very generous family and friends for two months.  Or when we lived in TLF that did not accept dogs and paid $1000 in kenneling fees. And then the 300 sq. ft. studio hotel room that housed all of us, including the dogs for you guessed it, two months. Good times, good times.

I met a woman while stationed at Hanscom, a mother of 6 at the time, that always managed door to door moves.  Teach me oh wise one!  Teach me your ways!

We are currently doing our darnest to make that elusive door to door move happen this time 'round.  We have no back up plan.  We are living on the edge of sanity, trying to make all the parts fall into place.  Our short sale was approved (yay!), the inspection was not too stroke inducing as to scare us away from the property (whew!), and the VA appraisal looks good as well (yippee!).  My husband left today to begin his new assignment and to be present for all things house related.  Closing is set for the day before the truck is loaded with all our stuff here, which allows time for the house to be cleaned and flooring to be replaced before me, the boys, our dogs, and the U-Haul trailer arrive the next week.

Dear God,


I think I do a pretty good job not asking for material things.  I learned not to ask you for patience because you would give me something to be patient about (thanks Mom for that advice!), and I try to pray for others before thinking of myself.


But.


But this time, please let this happen safely and as planned so that:

• a) I don't fall apart at the seams
• b) I don't hate and curse the Air Force and all things military
• c)I don't unfairly punish those around me with my frustration
• d) I don't drink all day long

Have mercy on us, I beg you.

-H

Juggling: To work or not to work?

Part of independence is the ability to think for oneself and to make informed decisions 

At the time, my decision to become a stay at home mommy was not a very popular one, and in certain circles I can still feel the question of "why" lurking behind half smiles and the sudden silence that follows my admission to being a kept woman.

But the decision was mine and have become more and come comfortable with that choice as I age.  I happily found myself married to a dude that left that life decision up to me.  He was also kind enough to keep his grumblings at a low roar each month as he watched me write a check to pay my student loan, and now he averts his eyes from my giant Master's diploma where it hangs on our office wall, a remembrance of a life I once had and one he has paid off.

The decision was difficult and I grappled with the pros and cons up-to, through, and past my due date with my first born.  A military move three months after made returning to my job out of the question, since the commute from central Alabama to the panhandle of Florida would have been a doozy.  But no sooner had we settled in than the phone rang with a job offer.  I said no.  Boy could we have used the money.  The sale on our last house fell through one week before closing, so we were carrying a mortgage, the utilities, a baby, and on one less pay check than we had four months prior.  It hurt.  A lot.  So we tightened our belts and basically didn't have a life until our house sold a year later.  We survived and have continued to do so to this day.

In the beginning, I did feel like I not only let myself down by not trying to juggle all life had given me, but that I let down all the people who had ever believed in me or supported me...like I wasn't living up to my potential and settled for being "just a mom".  Then I had an epiphany and it was....So what.  So what if people thought that.  So what if I did let them down.  So what that I have that big ole piece of paper and not doing anything remotely related to the reason I earned it.  So what if others want to believe I settled.  So what.

And maybe everyone isn't judging me like I think they are, that it is all in my head.  And I have to admit sometimes I am not as confident with my kept woman status as I appear.  Doubt still peeks in every now and then to test my resolve.

Back in the fall, we met up with four other couples for dinner and to let the kids play.  While a normal suburban event, this was a first for me.  Why?  Because I was not only the only stay at home mom, but also the only one not in the military.  What are odds of this happening!  I was definitely out of my realm and was freaking out.  Very quickly I realized that I had it all wrong...they didn't have an issue with me, I had the issue with me.   Or connived the thought of them having an issue with me.  So to recap...it was my issue that I thought they would have an issue with my non-working non-militariness-es-es.

I have the ability to think for myself and make my own truths, as deluded and self righteous as they may be at times.  But I also hold fast and firm to the belief that the women's liberation movement assisted greatly in my successful life as an athletic trainer with football teams, and has also assisted me greatly in my successful decision to not work and be an independent dependent.  There are a lot of women out there that want it all; I used to be one of them.  I have nothing to prove but to myself, and life is too short to spend time learning how to juggle just to show others I can.

Frustration

Bills +  Accounts - Authorization = Frustration.

Dear Companies:

I am the lady that pays you every month.  I am on the account.  I realize I am not the account holder, which pretty much means I am worthless, I get that. Why you even have a place for secondary names on accounts is a mystery because it means squat.  It is a false title.  You try to make me feel important but you deny me.

I don't like you. 

The bigger mystery is when I want to pay my bill over the phone instead of writing the check or paying online and you tell me no.  Because I am not the primary account holder.  But I control the money in this house, see.

I am paying for crying out loud.  I am giving YOU money.  You just want ME to pay interest.

I don't like you. 

You make my life difficult and cause me to yell at my kids because the only time they want me is when I am on the phone and you keep me on the phone for a very long time making me feel worthless and worthlessness runs downhill. 

So my kids don't like you, either.  (We enjoy the blame game around these parts.)

I realize that everything should be in my name, but I don't make the money, I allocate it.  You wouldn't give me a pot to piss in because I averaged -$3,000 over the past ten years.
I right now I want to allocate my frustration as to why you have accounts holdersssss yet only one of us can make decisions about the account.  Take my money.  I beg you.  Take my money or you will lose our business.  And that's some good business.

I should charge you.  In fact, I will.  You owe me countless hours of my time back plus a 12 pack of beer as interest for pain and suffering.

With all the civility I can muster,
Heidi

Spouse Philosophy

n.  a set of ideas or principals or beliefs

Is very easy as a military spouse to simply blend into your surroundings and not stretch yourself. When you move every 2-3 years on average, sometimes the philosophy is "why bother"; just when you hit your stride you have to pack up again.

Even though I am moving in a month, yesterday I went to a lunch and learn concerning the Key Spouse program.  The Lieutenant General's wife read this poem to us by Helen Steiner Rice:

We cannot all be famous
Or be listed in "Who's Who,"
But every person, great or small,
Has important work to do.

For seldom do we realize
The importance of small deeds,
Or to what degree of greatness
Unnoticed kindness leads.

For it's not the big celebrity
In a world of fame and praise,
But it's doing unpretentiously
In an undistinguished way.

The work that God assigned to us,
Unimportant as it seems,
That makes our task outstanding,
And brings reality to dreams.

So do not sit and idly wish
For wider, new dimensions
where you can put into practice,
Your many good intentions.

But at the spot God placed you
Begin at once to do,
Little things to brighten up
The lives surrounding you.

If everybody brightened up
The spot where their standing,
By being more considerate,
And a little less demanding.

This dark old world would very soon
Eclipse the evening star,
If everybody brightened up
The corner where they are!

This has always been my philosophy and hope it continues to be as long as I am sucking air.  

My greatest life lessons aren't necessarily from great sources or situations.  One year ago at her husband's retirement ceremony, I was thanked by a woman for carrying the group's spouse program.  This was a job I was ill prepared to take on, and only due to ignorance did I agree in the first place.   It was a sink or swim year for me, filled with mixed messages from this woman...she didn't want to lead, yet felt I was there to do her bidding at times.  I was polite, listened, and then did things my own damn way or told her no.  

What sticks with me the most was what she said to me as we finally parted ways:  

"Thank you for all you did this past year.  As a colonel's wife, I was on my way out and shouldn't have had to do anything."

Reeeeeally.  Needless to say, this was one woman who didn't feel it necessary to brighten the corner where she was, nor did she leave a positive impression on many spouses she met.  But she did leave an impression.  And one I hope not to repeat.  

There have been times I have done things completely bass-ackward, forgotten people, or fumbled and hurt others, but I never do it intentionally.  My mistakes are growing pains as I am a work in progress.  But know this...you will never see me sitting idly by, thanking others for doing something I won't do, and not doing the best I can to make my corner of the world, move after move, just a tad bit brighter.

Zoo

n.  a place where wild animals are kept so that people can look at them or study them

Ever wonder what animals at the zoo think of us?  Do they even care we are there or are we amusement for them?  I did have a chimpanzees use behavioral signs asking me for my tangerine a few months ago, but other than that, I can't recall a specific time where I knew the animals knew they were on display.

Sometimes living on base is like living at a zoo.  When civilians are on base for an air show, wedding, or ceremony, you can tell they are civilians.  How?  Because they slow down and gawk at us military folk doing normal things, like riding bikes, walking our dogs, or watering our yards.  You can almost read their minds....Look!  They do all the stuff we do!  And only have one head like us!  And ride bikes, too! Wow!

Or even when other military families are new to a base...there is the mandatory drive around to get the lay of the land.  Or if they are awaiting housing...there is the mandatory daily drive by looking for the signs of moving trucks.  I just had a car come completely to a dead stop outside my house and stay there for 3 minutes.  I could see the female in the passenger seat gesturing, pointing, and getting pretty animated about the house.  The driver, presumably her husband, would occasionally point, and when it was time to go, he took his sweet time, creeping along to get the whole picture engraved in both their heads.

I wanted to run out and ask if they needed anything or if they would available to help me clean since it would get me out of MY house faster.  Nothing like feeling a boot on your butt.

We can tell we are being watched.  Makes me think differently about that poor spider monkey trying to use the bathroom with my whole family staring, laughing, and pointing.  No wonder they throw poo.

Leaving marks

I have two boys.
They are 11 and 9.
They make a big mess.

I am only one person.
I am old enough to know I shouldn't have to pick up for able bodied boys.
I bitch and moan about their mess.

While walking past their room last week my breath was taken away.  No, not because of some unidentifiable stench.  I stopped dead in my tracks because of what I saw.  There, on the door frame, were height marks written in pencil.

Their height marks.

I cried.

This was not something I or my husband knew of, let alone orchestrated.  This was allll them.  And since this is a base house, those precious recordings will be painted over in about 6 weeks when we move.  I didn't know about the marks, mainly because I try to avoid their side of the house, or when I am on their side, I am too busy bitchin' about the mess.

My boys, who have lived in seven houses, took it upon themselves to leave their mark.  I picture them laughing and giggling, maybe raising up a bit on their toes while the other is lining the pencil on the top of their head, and then the transcriber saying, "My turn, my turn."

And never telling us.

I was reminded of traditions of childhood my boys might be missing.  What else haven't we done for them?  What other experiences, no matter how small, might we have unintentionally skipped because of moving with the military?  About six years ago, we had purchased a strip of wood with the sole intention of making it purty and using it as a mobile measuring stick.  When we moved three years ago, we discovered that strip of wood forgotten in a corner of the garage, warped from heat and time. Without a mark on it.

I was affected by those pencil marks and reminded of how they are still so young.  Young enough to want to be measured.  Young enough to think they might get into trouble for writing on the walls. But old enough to want to leave their mark when we move yet again.

What could I do now?  The big things in life are easy.  It was the little things in life that I needed to slow down and take the time to experience with my boys so that they know their momma cares.

Because I want to leave my mark, too.

Housing Dilemma Roundup Etc...

I know, I know.  I disappeared for awhile.  Every May I get slammed with a to-do list and with overwhelming emotions due to goodbyes, birthdays, and end of school year stuff for my kids.  If I have a down moment, I rest, cry, and exercise.  But in order to get control of things again, I am returning to writing.  Very therapeutic for me as my husband says.  Heard him say that to a friend, which is funny, since I don't think he reads my blog.  He is just happy when I write since it gives him a break from listening to me blab.  


Today is the last day of school at this base for my boys.  It is 11:30 AM and already I have cut one boy's hair, finished up gifts, went up to school to assist with handing out those gifts and avoided all goodbyes, mailed off/dropped off letters petitioning for an on-base middle school, filled my car up with gas, picked up ice for a friend who has movers today, and rode my bike for 8 miles.  


I have crazy emotions right now which I know will explode at the most inopportune time, like in front of a slew of people I don't know.  So until it is happy hour, I am keeping busy to keep from falling apart.  

Many have asked, so here you go:

Responses were overwhelmingly in favor of on base living.  Schools, community, cost of living, freedom for kids to be kids without fear were major points expressed when sharing on base love.  This of course all depends on the base and location of the active duty member's job.  Some areas, like around DC, make it difficult to live on a base.

So far our attempt to purchase a short sale when we PCS to DC is moving right along.  Funny how it is called a short sale when it takes at least three times as long to close....

And as much as I will miss this base and this amazing home we live in, gotta say I am looking forward to getting my hands on the upcoming house. Can't wait to paint, put up molding, tear up the yard, and make it ours.  I am that girl.  The one who likes a project.  Been a looonnnggg time since we could do what we truly want to a house without having to worry about a) permission b) priming walls or c) begging forgiveness.

For me, getting a "house fix" is kinda like getting my "baby fix"; I will burn myself out repairing a home knowing that the next time we move, we will choose to live on base or rent.  Just like I hold, squeeze, play with friends babies knowing I won't have any more, but also knowing I will get a good nights sleep.

But the main reason I can't wait to get there, get busy, and get to fixin' because I know it will take some of the pain away from moving.  I will nest while I mourn.

Thanks to Lynn, Val, Tracy, Rick, Alyson, Ursula, Delphine, Rachel, Wendy, Deb, Katie, and Kelly for their responses.  And yes, Rachel, the washer/ceiling incident was all you!

Tact: A Tale of Mother's Day Past

Tact: n.  skill in not offending people

Saturday was yard sale day on base.  And if you happened to visit my sale or that of the family across the street, you may have witnessed two women hugging each other and crying.  We were chatting when the FedEx truck pulled up, delivering her flowers sent by her husband for Mother's Day.  And he is deployed.

I remember what that was like.  That the loneliness is always worse on holidays. This was her first Mother's Day with him gone, and the emotion snuck up on her.  And revisited me.

When Justin was deployed on Mother's Day five years ago, it was a turning point in my life as a mom.  That was when I ceased being someone's daughter first, but put my own needs and wants as the priority of the day.  Oh, I'd been a mom for six years by that time, but the thinking was always about our own mothers, not about me.  His mom was only miles away and my own mother was under an hour drive.  It was assumed that I would make the rounds.

I said no.

I am sure it was the way I said 'no' that was the big issue; I have never been known for my tact, a tool that was left out of my mental design and reminds me, a lot, that I am still a work in progress.  My boys wanted to be with just me on Mother's Day and spend the morning at the beach.  My mother-in-law took it well and told me to have a wonderful day with my boys.  My own mother was not as understanding.  She has a more difficult time not taking personally the decisions we make for ourselves and our family.  She was very hurt.  But I stood my ground.

Some called it selfish; I called it survival.  I just couldn't do it that day.  While I could have been more tactful with my mother, it honestly didn't matter to me at the time.  Why did I have to continually fill others needs instead of my own?  Why on this day, of all days, when I am a mother too, did I have to put someone else's emotions before my own?  And the realization hit...I didn't have to.

So I said no and to the beach I went with my six and four year old.  They splashed and played.  I wore sunglasses and cried while making sand castles, missing the man who had given me these two amazing reasons to celebrate Mother's Day.

It was perfect.  Well, as perfect as it can get while your husband is in a war zone.  And I didn't allow myself to feel the least bit guilty of not visiting the moms.  That freeing of myself to do what I wanted made me feel a bit like a rebel, but mostly an adult.  I put myself and what my family needed first.  My husband had recently undergone enemy fire...I deserved to do whatever the hell I wanted to do.  And what I wanted was a holiday where I didn't "have to" do anything or put on a smile or see anyone but my babies.  A holiday where I was allowed to miss him without having to care about ruining the day for others. A "Mother's" Day.

Saturday, as I hugged my neighbor, I used the same word only with a different spelling and meaning.  She whispered, "I miss him so much."  I replied with empathy, "I know."

Housing Dilemma: Part Dos

OFF BASE ESTATES:

  

When you live off base, you enter the land of two car garages, kitchen islands, bay windows, and bathrooms big enough to do a two-step before entering a walk-in closet.  You take crazy-level delight at simple things, like refrigerators with ice dispensers, linen closets, and floors that are not the color of dirty underwear.  

But with a cost.  And without the brownies.  

Unless you are lucky enough to live in a hood with other military folk, you most likely walk out of your house on a pretty day and wonder "Where the people at?".  Garage doors are shut, curtains drawn, with no signs of life anywhere.  You have to make a concerted effort to meet people.  It may also be more difficult to volunteer; many schools or organizations already have a well oiled machine in place and outsiders are not always welcomed.  You just have to keep trying and find your niche.  

Sometimes you honestly have no choice about where you live.  Either the wait list is too long, there is no wait list because there is no housing, or the housing is soooo bad you can't stomach living in such a place.  Case in point:  I discovered I do have a low point which I won't cross when an on base house we toured had mouse turds all over the counter.  And so did the other five houses we looked at.

Ummm...no thanks.  I'll take my chances out in the wild.  

You do have privacy, though, and if you want to be incognito, this is the life for you.  Also when you live off base, you experience the culture and life of that area because it surrounds you.  You are more apt to visit museums, local art festivals, and live like a local...all valuable opportunities you may not get again.  You rediscover that not only are you a military family, but a FAMILY, and sometimes it is nice to remove the military part from the equation and pretend you don't have to move every 2-4 years.

Sometimes it is nice to just be.

Next week:  
A recap and your comments about housing.  Are you an on base or off base person????  Let me know!

Housing Dilemma: Part I

dilemma:  n.  a situation where someone has to choose between two or more possible actions, each of which will bring difficulties

There are two kinds of people in the Air Force:  those that prefer to live on base and those that prefer off base. And before anyone spouts off about which is better or worse, they need to have experienced both.  Don't brag about the awesomeness of your square footage or huge lot is if you haven't also known the awesomeness of living in your own gated community of military peeps.

I have experienced both.  Lived on base for three assignments and getting ready to live off base for a third time.  But I am a bit biased, because I just love me some living on base.  However, I will do my best to give pros and cons for both.

ON BASE UTOPIA:

Imagine it...people who have the same interests, commonality, aspirations...all living together in sub-par space and questionable wiring/plumbing.  You do it for the experience, sometimes for the schools, convenience, and camaraderie that can only be described as misery loves company.  And that company usually welcomes you with baked goods.

Oh sure, some military installations have brand new housing.  Brand new built by the lowest bidder.  I will always take the archaic home that dates back to the time of Moses over new housing.  Old homes have weathered plagues, countless attacks by mother nature, and a bajillion families yet are still standing.  Ain't much me or mine can do to bring the walls down.  New housing ALWAYS, and I mean always, has issues.  Like when you hit your light switch, your neighbor's fan turns on.  Or concrete stuck in the water line to the washer, located nicely on the second floor near the bedrooms, causes water to overflow, flood the upstairs, and the ceiling below to collapse into the two car garage and subsequently on your car.

Living on base means living in a small community.  Everywhere you go are friendly faces, or unfriendly depending on your current situation.  You may not have a lot of privacy, but that gates swings both ways...neighbors may know your dirt, but they also know when you need help.

Rest assured, the one time you are dolled up and feeling fine, no one sees you.  But when you have been up for 36 hours with a puking baby, the water main on your street has burst, and you need to run to get water from the commissary, you will see everyone and their mom.   You attend church, play sports, go to school, and live next to the same people. Forget six degrees of separation...it is more like 1.5 when you live on base.

But I like all that.  I like that I know I can be late, for whatever reason, and that my kids aren't in danger of abduction because I am not there to welcome them home from school.  That my neighbor and husband have worked the same job so we can bitch about laundry and absurd schedules.  That there are families on my street whose active duty member is deployed and they don't have to feel alone...that we have all been there or are about to be. I like how even if I run into people at the commissary when I look horrible, they ask how I am, and honestly want to know the answer.  I like how my husband can ride his bike to work in five minutes.  And he can come home for lunch.  I like not paying utilities or lawn care. I love when my kids start a new school on base and every other kid has been in their shoes and can commiserate.

Mostly I love how doors are always open.  Both literally and figuratively.   It takes a village to raise this military spouse.

 

Tomorrow....OFF BASE PARADISE

Down with the Sickness

My one source of personal income is substitute teaching.  And every winter I sub the most due to teachers getting sick from the kids.  Which means I, in turn, get sick as well.  It is a job hazard I can't avoid.

As long as I am not completely miserable, I don't mind getting sick...it is the only way I get to slow down around this place.

In January I was waylaid for a week.  Two weeks ago I dealt with a cold and kept right on trucking. Yesterday I felt like crap and parked my low grade fevered hiney on the couch and watched Emma and Gone With the Wind.  This sickness, however, has crappy timing.  Justin has a very busy week, I am supposed to have a busy week, we are in the midst of buying a house, my eldest is homesick at Space Camp, and my youngest is a mess without his big brother.

While watching Justin run in and out of the house taking care of all the 'mom' things, I gave him the compliment, "You are glue that keeps this operation working," thinking it would make him quit huffing and puffing over the inconvenience of my illness.  Deep down I know that I am the glue that keeps this operation working, but foolishly thought he would appreciate the ego boost.

Instead of the "thanks, baby, I hope you feel better" response I was looking for, I was given, "Seriously...what would happen to this place if I got sick?"

Seriously?  Seriously???

You mean like when you had shoulder surgery last year and were physically worthless for two months?  Or how about all the times you are TDY and I do all of this without another adult attempting to boost my ego?  Or when you were deployed?  Ass.

Yes, gentle reader, I said all that.  And because he loves me, he ignored all that and folded three loads of laundry and began two more.  He also called when leaving baseball practice to see if there was anything I needed from the store.

Oh yeah, sometimes I am indeed down with the sickness.

Magnets and More

Couple things on my mind today.  Both have me wondering, "Really?"  (Emphasizing that question mark on the end with a downward tilting head and the muscles on the right side of my face up.)

Hot Topic #1:  State employees are deciding (by not deciding) to shut down the government.  And the paychecks for those that are "essential".  Really?  The one plus side to all the moving, deployments, TDYs, and stess was that we always had a paycheck coming in.  What is wrong on so many levels is how those same state employees on both sides of the tug-o-war will still receive their paycheck while deciding we don't need ours.  Convenient.  While this "shut down" may only be temporary, explain that to the 20yr old airmen deployed in Afghanistan whose pregnant wife has no money to pay their rent back here in the states.  Are they making her a meal to ease her distress?  Are they realizing the implications of their non-actions?  Do they realize the number of teachers at Department of Defense schools who won't get paid either?  Or how about this shutdown also affects civilian clergy at military installations...like how our priest won't be able to lead the First Communion class in receiving the sacrament this Saturday due to legal constraints, something the class has been working towards for nine months. But you guys go ahead and prove "your" point.  We will try to suppress the desire to egg your homes to prove ours.

Hot Topic #2:  Magnet Schools here in Montgomery are a necessity.  You'd think your teenager was attending Harvard when looking at the cost of private schools in the area or how difficult it is to be accepted into magnet schools.  Like most military installations, we aren't in the most affluent, newest, or cleanest part of town so the public schools zoned for base aren't the best.  Where there's no money, there's no good schools.  Kinda messed up.  To add insult to injury, no kid leaving the base elementary school sixth grade was accepted into the magnet middle school.  Really? That includes the base commander's and the three star general's kid, so at least we can say they weren't playing favorites.  All are extremely bright, articulate, and many play multiple instruments or have artistic talent in drawing or dancing.  This is bad news.  Especially when many military families cannot afford the private school tuition.  If the Air Force wants people to live on base, there need to be options.

Luckily for us, is there is a way to do something about this issue.  If you have been stationed here and would like to help by composing a letter with your support to install a seventh and eighth grade on base, please do so.  I will find out to whom the letter should be addressed and where, but please begin your plea to help other  military families.

And feel free to comment away about how much HT#1 stinks.  It will make me feel better to know others have an issue with this issue!

Sleep Patterns

There are two different sleep patterns in this house.

My bedtime routine is pretty much the same every night:  check house and garage that all doors are closed and locked, chairs pushed in, dishes in dishwasher, recently washed clothes in dryer, toys picked up, blankets folded, pillows arranged, to-do list ready, boys' bathroom light on, boys tucked in, check emails, brush teeth, think about washing face, change clothes, get into bed and open a book.

Justin tucks in the boys, showers, brushes his teeth, changes clothes, and pretty much starts REM cycle within 10 seconds of shutting his eyes.

Once we are asleep, it is a different story.  Only the sound of my children crying will awaken me; a mouse farting snaps Justin into action.  If I am prematurely woken up, I am wide awake and takes me a good hour to fall back asleep; he can handle a puking dog and be back in dreamland within minutes.  So he handles most nighttime emergencies.  He doesn't do this out of love for his awesome wife...he does this because otherwise he has to put up with the dreaded light.

What light, you ask?

I have to read to silence the voices in my head before I can drift off to dream; my husband merely needs to be horizontal.  Used to be my bedside table would supply the light necessary for me to read.  This same light also made it difficult for my light sleeping husband to fall or stay asleep.

Each night after crawling into bed, he'd give me a soft kiss. I'd say "I love you," and he'd gently reply, "I love you too...but I'd love you a whole lot more if you'd turn off that f'ing light,"  then roll over in a huff and slam a pillow over his head.  I would laugh and laugh and laugh.

While he was deployed, I told my visiting cousin and her husband about our nighttime routine.  We had a good chuckle at my funny husband.  When Justin returned from Iraq, my cousin sent him the best welcome home gift ever:  a book light for me.

I can honestly say that book light (and the fact he handles household nighttime emergencies) has saved our marriage.

Spouse Spotlight: Becky McAleenan

Ever wonder why things happen the way they happen?

While moving from Alabama to Florida in 2003, we were homeless for two months, backed out of buying two houses, lived off generosity of friends and family, and finally found a house that "would do".  I now know all that chaos was so that we would meet the McAleenan family.  They had just PCS'd also. Only from Italy.  Jerks.  

As you will read below, they were lucky enough to retire in their hometown.  We were lucky enough to live next to them and become part of their wonderfully warped, twisted, large, and loving family, whom we love as much as our own. They kept me afloat during Justin's deployment. They introduced us to Relay for Life and Murder Mystery Dinners.  

Sonny Bono, Kung Foo Fighter, Don't Ask, and Yes, that's His Own Chest Hair
AKA Becky, Mike, me, and Justin

We have shared many laughs, tears, beers, inside jokes, and conversations we can't repeat.  We have seen each other at our best and at our worst.

We love us some McAleenans.

So world, meet Becky.  Becky, the floor is yours (as usual...hahahahahaha): 

Hometown: Rockledge FL, also my current hometown… 

What you love about your hometown: I love that everybody knows everybody.  I love the $1 picnic on July 4^th, where people dress in red/white/blue and eat ice cream at the park.  I love the family atmosphere and the small town ambiance.  I love that Rockledge is not a destination, it’s a place to live.  And, there’s the weather and close proximity to the beach.

College and degrees obtained:  After only 20 years, I finally earned my bachelor of science in elementary education.  I think, however, that military spouses should receive an honorary Masters of Spousery upon the retirement from the military.  (I believe the “dependent” retires just like the active duty person, because BOTH serve 24/7)

What did you do in your past life (pre-military spouse):  Well, my “past life” story is pretty short.  Mike and I were high school sweethearts, so one year after I graduated from high school, we got married and ran off to see the world.  I have donned many hats:  cake baker, gourmet food store worker, McDonald’s Crew Chief, Office Mgr, Attendance Clerk, Substitute teacher, Personal Asst for special needs children, Insurance Adjuster Billing Clerk, transcriptionist… butcher, baker, candle-stick maker?  

Years married: June 29^th will be 27 years married… plus 4 dating… J 

Years as a military spouse:  27 years… aka forever.

Kids and how many:  I have two incredibly fabulous children!  One, however, is no longer a child to anyone but me…our daughter, K, is soon 23 yrs old and graduating from the University of South Florida.  She will graduate with a BA in speech/language pathology and will continue on to grad school somewhere undecided… our son, N, is 12 yrs old and working hard not to make us nuts in 7^th grade.  They are almost exactly 10 years apart – by choice… not by accident. J  It has been wonderful to have 2 only children.

How they react to moving:  K, in my rose-colored glasses, loved moving!   I think she handled the moves very well, until the last 2 which were difficult for all of us.  As they get older, their friendships grow deeper and it just hurt to say goodbye.  Those last 2 were hard on all of us.  N, he was so young that he just rolled along.  When we landed here, our last base, K proclaimed this “our final resting place” and said we could move if we wanted, but she was officially done.  So sayeth K.  We all agreed and here we are.

Number of moves: 8 assignments… a few relocations in the same town.

Deployments:  Define deployment?  There were jobs where Mike was gone M-F and returned for Sat/Sun for 9 months, he went to Saudi Arabia for 4 months, he went TDY all the time… but the longest was the 4 months.  Those short trips away are the secret to a long, happy marriage. J

Dream retirement location:  We are close to our dream location.  We want to live closer to the water.  Mike prefers the ocean, I want the river… there will certainly be some compromising down the road, but we will always be here in Brevard County… we need to see all the launches and keep our tans going. 

Current job:  My current job is substitute teaching.  At least that’s the job I get paid for.  I do that 2 days a week at my discretion.  I have other jobs that are unpaid, as most everyone I know does.  I am Team Development for our Relay for Life event, I am team captain for our family/friends team called Wine-ing For A Cure for the past several years, I am Advancement Chair for Nick’s Boy Scout Troop of 28 boys, and if there is any time left after that… I clean my house.

Hobbies:  I think my hobby is traveling.  I love to see new places and try new things. I don’t have a regular activity that I do… I think I have ADD in that regard.  I love to cook, and I love being a mom. I do enjoy people watching… is that a hobby?  I like to figure out what makes people do the stuff they do, why they act the way they do, and then look for some compassionate way to feel about them.  I don’t always find it, but I keep looking.

    

Your strengths and weaknesses:   I think my weakness is my mouth.  It’s always open.  I know it, and anyone who knows me knows it, too.  Not always a bad thing, but I am working on being a listener more than the other. Mike would say I hold a grudge, but is that a weakness…?  ;)   I think I am a good people person.  I love how everyone is just a little different than me.  I think I surround myself with very strong women friends, and they keep me fresh.  I am a good friend to those I love, and am trying to be a better sister/daughter to catch up on all the years we missed growing up apart. I think I have a good sense of humor, which often gets me in trouble.  I am passionate about my causes… like Relay for Life.  I bleed purple, I think.  I am not afraid to tell people why I Relay and why they should too.  I am a strong advocate for the things I believe in.  I believe Cancer Sucks, and needs to be a disease of the past – like Polio.

Have you ever gone cow tipping?  Not that I remember! 

The moving van just caught on fire…what three things would you want to save:  I used to think my “things” were so important, but as I get older I realize I don’t need that stuff as much.  I would want to save my photos, my kids’ baby books and mementos and my Granny’s Family Bible.

Are you superstitious and if yes, how so:  I think bad things happen in 3s so I watch out for that.  But I am a firm believer that there is a path pre-determined for my life and when it’s my time… it’s my time. I strongly believe in karma and what you put out there, you will receive many times over.

Favorite quote:  You can plan the plan, but you can’t plan the outcome.  By John McAleenan (that's her father-in-law)

Biggest regret:  I try to live with little or no regrets, but I regret that we didn’t make it back to FL before John McAleenan passed away.  I regret that I didn’t make it back for my childhood friend’s wedding because I had to work.  I will never make that choice again…

Five most important things in your life:  My family and being a mom is very important to me.  The friends I can’t imagine never having met -- My Chosen Family.  My Granny Necklace that my mom and sister have as well. It makes me feel loved to wear it.  My health is important to me, and I’m coming to grips with the fact that I may actually have to exercise one of these days… and time alone is important to me as I get older.  I like just being with me. 

Where you were on 9/11:  We lived in a small Italian town called Porcia, outside of Aviano Air Base.  Mike was TDY to Saudi Arabia.  It was surreal to come home from the bus stop and see it on the Today Show.  We just sat mesmerized by the images until the phone rang from the base telling us to stay inside and not come to the base.  Mike called 2 days later when he could.  We never felt in danger in our home.  Our Italian neighbors all came over and hugged me and asked about Mike.  It was nice knowing they were there.  Watching the base transform to a high level of security with HumVees and M-16s on every soldier was intimidating but soon became our new norm.  Weird, weird times.

What makes you proud to be a military spouse:  I always loved being a military spouse.  I think it’s the coolest, most elite group of people in the world.  Who else gives themselves so freely to everyone else? Who else gives up their career to support their spouse?  Who else laughs at wimpy women who complain because their husbands are going fishing for the weekend and they are scared?  Who else digs in deep and fast and makes such an impact on a place in just 3 yrs!?  Military spouses reach out, they care about each other, they “get it”.  I miss that a lot.

What makes you sad about being a military spouse:  I don’t think I was ever sad about being a spouse.  I was sad to leave or say “see you later” to friends, but I always loved being a “sponge”.

What you would like people to know about military spouses:  I would like people to know that housing is not “free”.  Medical care is not “free”.  I would like people to appreciate how scary it can be for a spouse to go to Iraq or Afghanistan, several times, even if that’s their career field.  I would like people to thank the ones who stay behind to keep it all going.  I would like people to know that military spouses don’t ask for sympathy, they would just like you to understand that they are proud of their spouse regardless of who is sitting in the White House.

  

I would like people who are considering this crazy lifestyle to know that military families are a special breed.  If stress and chaos freak you out, you’ll get used to it. If moving and meeting new people seems like an impossible task to do every 3 years, reach out and ask another spouse where the best grocery store is, the best hairdresser and pediatrician. It’s an adventure!   It’s sort of like a secret society – a sisterhood.  It’s like a great, big OJT program!!   Wouldn’t trade that time for anything. 

Whew.

Miss you, Becky!  

If you would like to donate to Becky's Relay for Life team, or find out more info about what all the hubbub is about, check it out at:

http://main.acsevents.org/site/TR/RelayForLife/RFLFY11FL?px=8301576&pg=personal&fr_id=29767

Happy Friday, everyone!

And remember, if you would like to be in the spotlight, or would like to nominate someone, comment during the week.  

Where'd You Go?

There is one story that keeps repeating itself like a broken record amongst military spouses.

You have a life.  You marry into the military.  You try to continue your life.  You move.  Incubate a couple kids.  Move.  Give up on work.  Volunteer.  Do all the "right" things.  And then...

You look at yourself in the mirror and wonder where you are.  Not geographically, although after a while it is a tad difficult to remember just what state or country you are in, but where did you, as a person, go.

In order to not dig too deep and end up miserable the rest of the day, I make jokes to myself.  I ask how I've been, was sabbatical nice, why did I not write to me, was the food good because the constant chicken nuggets and pizza while hubby was deployed sucked, learn anything new because the ole gal could stand to pocket a few new tricks, and if I was going to leave me for so long, the least I could have done was get some sleep...the bags under my eyes are terr-i-ble.

I don't think military spouses are alone in this.  I do, however, think that our constant moving can either be a detriment or an aid in our personal development.  Partaker of the glass half empty?  You have to start ALL...OVER...AGAIN.  It is so hard, why bother when you are just going to move again in two years? On the glass half full side of things, with every move we have the opportunity reinvent ourselves.

This is not only true for after a move, but if you are facing a house without nap time, an empty nest, the outgoing squadron commander's spouse, the women who lose a role or job they have finally gotten a handle on...all abrupt changes where you are a bit adrift, floating out into the distant pity party for one.

Personal growth in the military life can be easily marked by time frames.  Example: During two years at Hanscom, both boys began school full time, I began substitute teaching, and I finally joined the Spouse Club because it was the first time they didn't seem to be a bunch of self absorbed biotches. That base was the base where I began to remember me.  And then we moved.

With each chapter ending in life, I have a mini pity party and only I am invited.  When my baby began kindergarten, I balled my eyeballs out.  For the past 7 years, my main identifier was 'mom'.  Now I was free!  I could do what I want! and watch whatever I want! and eat whatever I want! and use the bathroom without a little fist knocking at my door!  And I was miserable.

I could have continued falling fallen into a pit of despair and self-loathing.  I could have become a naggy harpy wife who made damn sure everyone under our roof was as miserable as I was.  Could have. Many many times.

It has taken some years, but have learned when I am presented with a change to my life that I should grieve...take time to mourn the loss of that world I was comfortable in and the routine that accompanied it.  Then I put on my big girl panties, step outside my comfort zone with a volunteer or part-time job, start taking long silent walks/jogs with my dog, and a begin something new, like weekly coffee with other moms or a blog.  I become a different Heidi.  A better more well rounded Heidi.  A Heidi more equipped to deal with the uncertainties of military life.

The key is understanding that while my physical role as mom decreases, their emotional need for me is really just now warming up.  I have to be mentally capable to deal with all the crap they bring home with them from outside our home.  So I better take the time while they are in school to fill whatever tank needs filling, whether it is household duties or getting my gab on so I don't chatter my husband's ear off the minute he walks through the door.  My hours for the role of  'mom' : 6-8am and 3-8pm.  The between time is for 'me' to decide.  How nice.

With each move, the process repeats.  Can't help it.   I read once that the average person changes careers an average of five times during their life.  Chances are I will surpass that average within the next ten years, if you consider stay-at-home-mom and over-volunteering career choices.

The good news is that I know it will happen and that I will get over it.  The bad news is trying to figure out just what am I going to do different next time around.

Sporty vs. Athletic

It is hard to live on a military installation and not see athletes.

Staying physically fit is part of the job. Our house is located on part of prime running route and I am often found in the morning with my coffee, some kind of fiber bar, watching the parade of runners from inside the cozy confines of my house.  I watch to see if anyone huffs and puffs like I do when climbing the hill that leads to my cul-de-sac.  So far, I am the only one looking like death.  Everyone else looks like they could run all day.  They are seasoned runners, athletes, and that incline is a molehill to my mountain.

There are many spouses who are athletes, too.  They have the drive, the discipline, and the desire to get off their fannies and run.  I had a neighbor in Boston who was religious about working out.  Her Army husband was the definition of sinewy; he was a small wisp of a man but crazy strong and without a lick of fat on him.  Upon giving her a compliment on her dedication to the gym, she replied, "Heidi...you've seen my husband.  If I didn't work out, I would crush him."

I do my best to live an active life for two reasons:

1. I like to eat.  I like to eat whatever I want.  And in whatever portion I want. 
2. I think clearer and more rationally when I have exercised.  

But don't confuse my active lifestyle with my being an athlete.  Someone once called me an athlete.  I had to correct them.  Let me tell you why......

• The only sport I was ever good at was soccer, and that's because I played since I was six. It gave me confidence.  And also three knee surgeries by the age of 21.
• Last week, a spouse passed me while jogging and talking on her phone at the same time.
• My high school volleyball coach announced to everyone during an awards banquet that I could not walk and chew gum at the same time when she first saw me.  
• I lose respect in an aerobics class.  
• I broke my arm first time snowboarding.  
• I run into the corners of tables and the outside of my thigh looks like my husband takes a bat to me.
• My husband is a machine.  The dude can and always has run circles around me.  When we bike around the flight line, he is merrily weaving back and forth, whistling, and even circles back to me while I struggle to stay upright with forward progression against what feels like gale force winds.   
• I am clumsy.  I trip while walking in a straight line.  On a flat surface.
• My boys beat me in a 5K by a good ten minutes.  They are 10 and 8.  

Athletes are good at sports.  I am merely 'sporty'.  Like a Miata.  Not really the athlete of the car world, but sure looks like it could go fast.  I dress the part, talk the part, instruct the part, and have knowledge as to what an athlete should do.  My problem lies in the connection between my brain and my body.

It is hard to be sporty among athletes.  It is even harder to have excuses as to why that athlete isn't me. The best thing I have going for me in that department is that I don't give up.  Call me sporty.  Call me slow.  But don't call me a quitter.

Team

n.  a set of people working together

Team player.  

Taking one for the team.  

There is no "I" in "Team".  

All great sayings centered around working as one.

But sometimes...well sometimes, there should be exceptions.  Take for instance the month of March in the Air Force.  AKA:  Mustache March.  Not a good look yet a tradition that continues to inspire men to forgo their razors (and subsequently carnal knowledge of their wives) and be a team player.  

It is that time of year.  

We can blame thank legendary fighter pilot, retired Brigadier General Robin Olds, for this annual phenomenon.  Olds was known for his decidedly non-regulation mustache he proudly sported during his days in Vietnam.  It was a common among airmen to grow such a stache, but Olds also used his as a mark of individuality ( a concept also decidedly non-regulation).

Olds:  "Generals visiting Vietnam would kind of laugh at the mustache.  I was far away from home.  It was a gesture of defiance.  The kids on base loved it.  Most everybody grew a mustache."

The man, the myth, the mustache.

Upon returning home, he learned that not everyone was a fan of his individuality. When he reported to an interview with Air Force Chief of Staff General John P. McConnell, McConnell walked up to Olds, stuck a finger under his nose and said, "Take it off."  Wisely, Olds replied, "Yes, sir."  Why none of this appears on his official Air Force bio is beyond me.  

Each March, pilots, those deployed, and in certain locations all who want to display their inner Magnum PI, show military solidarity by a symbolic and good natured protest against Air Force facial hair regulations.

Last year our household fell victim to this tradition.  My husband loves a competition and he won "Best Mustache" as voted by his peers.  His plaque read, "With great mustache comes great responsibility". 

Hero to zero in four weeks flat.

He was proud of his ability to grow such an impressive mustache in a short period of time.  

I was nauseated and armed with his razor.  This "thing" was removed from his face immediately after the awards ceremony.  Happily, situations at home returned to normal.  

Wives around base who are currently suffering through this month of madness have kicked around ideas of what would happen, say, if we decided not to shave our armpits in protest of the protest. But we quickly realized that two wrongs would not make a right in this situation, especially since we are in the South and it is already bleeping hot.  Tank tops and shaggy pits don't mix.

We women don't get it and don't think we are supposed to.  The men complain about their mustaches, yet also brag whether their stache rivals Wyatt Earp or John Holmes.  So if you are suffering through this month with a man who is growing a mustache, I hope he wins "Best in Show" and not "Most Disturbing".  Go Team.

Retire

v. To give up your regular work once you reach a certain age

There is a standing joke in our house about retirement.  Back when I was young and naive and a workaholic, I promised my equally young, naive, and hard working husband that he could retire at the 20 year mark and I would take over as the breadwinner.  I'd be his sugar mama.

Foolish, foolish Heidi.  Look at her being all independent.  Wasn't she cute?

That was a blissful time in my life where I was gung-ho about having it all.  Then I had a baby and then another baby and then became CEO of our lives.  I make this family run like the rusty well-oiled machine it is.  I never thought I would say these words, or even admit to saying these words, but I am a kept woman and  I like it.  Don't confuse me for the Real Housewives of Anywhere...I do not spend my days with a personal trainer, getting my hair blown out, and bossing around nannies.  I treat my my stay-at-homeness like a job.

But still.....

I have my master's degree for crying out loud.  I had ideas.  I had plans for my life that did not involve creating menus, removing stains, counseling a ten year old boy on the craziness of ten year old girls, or mandatory fun created by the military.  While I still have plans, they are now focused on the PTO's book fair, what soup I am bringing to church Wednesday night, and why my dog has diarrhea again.

And I like it.

So sad. Or is it smart?

I love not having the stress of succeeding.  I love not having to fit one more schedule onto our full calendar. I am filling a need and filling it well, in my biased humble opinion.  My husband knows all this and has always left the decision to stay at home up to me.  He is happy with our life, but he would be equally happy if I were bringing home a paycheck.

When our first son was born, it was easy to quit my job because we were also moving.  Perfect!  And then had another baby, another move, a deployment, another move, lots of TDYs, another move and here I am, with no excuses as to why I am not pulling in money except this one:   I...don't...want...to.

We are a joking couple.  We tell each other to shut up (what!), that the other is stupid (gasp!), and rib each other incessantly, all with a kind tone and not an ounce of meanness.  We do this because we know the other is full of poo and won't take our comments seriously.  It works for us.  About once a week, my husband (with a smirk) reminds me of my promise, especially since we are staring at almost 15 years in the military slap in the face.  This week, the conversation went like this:

J:  So....how are those plans coming along for you to be my sugar mama?  


I pretend I don't hear.


J:  Heidi...I know you hear me...we could only have one more move in our future.  How are you going to support me in my years of retirement?


H:  I am waiting for the next million dollar idea.


J:  I'd settle for the next thousand dollar idea.  How about that, hmmm?    

Smartypants.

The beauty of being a military spouse is how darned easy it is to not have a job.  Unless you work from home, have older kids, or in a profession where moving isn't a deterrent, working is a hassle and one I am not willing to put on my plate right now.  I do not need to work outside the home for my sanity or to pay bills...all valid reasons spouses hold down jobs.

We don't live outside our means.  We don't go on expensive vacations, buy our kids everything, or eat out all the time.  We have adjusted our life so one income works and still save for our future.  I am not suffering by my lack of a life outside my home.  I do however, have to suffer through the weekly reminders that my sugar mama role is rapidly approaching.

Which is why I keep hinting to my husband that we should ride this military gravy train as far as it will take us. Maybe by that point, I will have figured out just what I want to do when I grow up.

Or at least the next thousand dollar idea.

Spouse Spotlight: Lindsey Kindt

House hunting did not fare very well.  The houses in Northern Virginia are rascally buggers and while we thought we had one cornered a couple times, none were worth clubbing and calling ours.  We came home empty handed, but still hungry, so looks like more searching for the elusive home is in the future. 

Speaking of houses, this week's Spouse Spotlight selection from commentors is Lindsey Kindt, who was the previous tenant of the house I currently reside and the same house I want to take with me everywhere.  She neglected to tell me about the 40 pound bee hive in the attic, but that is a tale for another day.

Here is the main reason I dig Lindsey.  She was one of the first smiling-happy faces that made me feel welcomed to this base when we PCS'd almost three years ago.  At first I thought it was a farce...no one could be this content, this peaceful, especially with two teenagers.  And then I learned her story.   In April 2005, Lindsey was diagnosed with stage 2 colon cancer, had the 10 cm tumor and 12" of her large intestine removed, and had three rounds of chemo.  Oh, yeah, then she PCS'd, had another nine rounds of chemo, home schooled her kids, and her husband deployed.  Wish that was all, but after another PCS in 2009, she was diagnosed again, had another surgery with a complete removal of her colon and this is what she has to say:

 "...thankfully, no chemo!!  Another perk:  when you don’t have a colon, you can’t have a colonoscopy!  Not EVER!  Boo-yah!!  I do, of course, have to have annual upper-endoscopies and sigmoidoscopies, but those are a breeze.Through it all, GOD rocked – and He surrounded me with an amazing family.  Life is GREAT!"

See what I mean?  The force is stroong with this one. 

But don't feel sorry for Lindsey...that is not her or my MO.  Instead, read about her below and see your glass as half full, with rose colored glasses, and with a silver lining, just like Lindsey. 

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Hometown:

Lexington, KYWhat you love about your hometown:

Oh my – what’s not to love about Kentucky?  I’m probably overly sentimental about it, since I left the state for college and really only returned for school holidays before graduating and striking out on my own (in Ohio).  Kentucky is, without a doubt, the one state in America where God would build a house and retire, if He could.  It’s gorgeous.  Forget what you’ve heard about toothless gully girls, and 13-year old brides marrying their cousins – and imagine, if you can, miles upon miles of rolling green hills, each one dotted with the most amazing thoroughbred horses you’ve ever seen.  Industrial production is kept at a minimum in Kentucky because the ensuing air pollution is bad for the horses (no joke!). The sun DOES shine bright on my Old Kentucky Home, and I hope to be able to retire there.  Look for me, on a patch of 10-20 acres of land, sitting on the porch of my house.  I won’t be sippin’ moonshine, but I’m sure you can find some at my neighbor’s if you really get a hankerin’ for a jug.

College and degrees obtained:

Denison University (Ohio) – B.A. in Psychology

Bowling Green State University (Ohio) – M.Ed. in School Psychology

What did you do in your past life (pre-military spouse):

All psychology, all the time.  I worked in a chlidren’s psychiatric hospital for a couple of years, and then went on to grad school to become a school psychologist.  After doing that for a couple of years, I became pregnant and we went into the Air Force – at which point my career objective changed.

Years married:

22 years as of this coming May – to the keeper of my heart, Mike J

Years as a military spouse:

Almost 19.  Mike did his internship with the USAF back in 1992, and owed 3 years of service after that.  Our plan was to BAIL as soon as those three years were up.  Apparently we had a change of plans, because we’re still here!

Kids and how many:

Our daughter is 18 and, against every beat of my heart, is leaving for college in the fall – and our son is 15.  They’re both incredible kids…

How they react to moving:Probably like most military kids.  They get excited when they hear about a new duty station, and then reality kicks in and they get sad about having to separate from their friends.  And then they get anxious about meeting new kids, but excited about moving into a new house and exploring new areas.  It’s such a mixed bag with these military kids – but they have always known that, regardless of their surroundings, there will always be one, dependable constant:  their family.  We are a very tight-knit community of 4, and we’ve always aimed for providing a soft landing spot for one another.

Number of moves:

Counting pre-military moves, I’ve lived in 15 different towns (only 6 with the USAF)

Deployments:

Only one – can you believe that!?

Dream retirement location:

Shall I sing ALL the lyrics to “My Old Kentucky Home”?  Honestly, I’d be thrilled to end up in Kentucky, but as long as we can have some land somewhere, with some hills and (preferably) a creek, then I’d be perfectly content.

Current job:

Wife and Mother extraordinaire!!  It’s the greatest job in the WORLD!!

Hobbies:

Shopping, eating, making rosaries, making jewelry, going to Mass, shopping, visiting with friends (while eating), shopping with friends, and taking naps (sorry, friends can’t join me on this one).

Your strengths and weaknesses:I’ll get the weaknesses out of the way first:  I tend to be judgmental of others, and that’s something I hate.  I’m trying to be better, but it’s a hard habit to break.  I’m so grateful that God is patient with me – goodness knows I need it.  As far as strengths, I think I’m an emotionally strong person.  I’ve dealt with some pretty horrible crap in my life, and I really don’t feel any worse for wear.  In fact, I feel even stronger.  I rely on my faith a LOT, and lean heavily on my family and friends.  With God, family and friends in my corner, I can kick anything square in the face and win J

Have you ever gone cow tipping?

You’d think that, growing up in Kentucky, I’d be able to say “yes” to this one…but sadly, the answer is “no”.  Maybe Vicki will take me someday?

The moving van just caught on fire…what three things would you want to save:

Save my photographs, the kids’ baby boxes, and my wedding album!  Everything else can burn, baby, burn.

Are you superstitious and if yes, how so:

Not at all.  Bring on all the black cats you can find, and parade them up and down my sidewalk.  I’ll break a mirror while opening my umbrella INSIDE my house as I head outdoors to feed all the kitties.

Favorite quote:

Hands down favorite quote EVER:  “Be the change you wish to see in the world” – Ghandi.  Doesn’t that just speak volumes?  If you want to see something changed for the better, get up and get busy!  We can’t wait for others to change things for us if we aren’t willing to get our hands dirty in the process.

Biggest regret:

When I was in college I had the opportunity to spend a semester studying voice at the Mozart Teum in Salzburg, Austria – and I chickened out because it was “too far from home”.  Such a pansy move!  If I had known then that I would spend the majority of my adult years living SO far away from family, I would’ve packed my bags and my throat lozenges and headed straight for the airport.

Five most important things in your life:

Faith (God rocks!) – Marriage (my husband truly completes me) – Job (I totally LOVE being a wife and mom!) – Health (dang – worked pretty hard for this one!)  - Freedom (without it, I wouldn’t be able to cherish and enjoy the first four).

Where you were on 9/11:

At “Tuesday Morning” in Wichita Falls, Texas.  I was aware that something was going on, because the clerks were all gasping and talking and huddling together, and all I could think was that it was pretty unprofessional for them to be acting like that at work.  They didn’t say anything to the customers at all – and I left with my purchases and started heading home.  Listening to the radio in my van, someone called in and said something about “where the World Trade Center USED to be” – and I thought that the guy was a total nut job.  When I got to the base, the Security Police were frantically waving people AWAY from the base, and I remember rolling down my window and saying “But I LIVE here” (‘cause that was going to make a big difference, right?) – and he waved me away anyways.  I just drove and drove and drove – listening to the radio – and finally ended up at the kids’ school.  I watched the news in the school library for a while, then went to a friend’s house to watch more, then ended up at our church for a prayer service.  When we were finally able to get onto the base, and into our house, we tried to keep the news off for the sake of the kids.  That night, as TAPS played at it’s usual time, I stood on the back porch and cried.

What makes you proud to be a military spouse:

Oh my – just about everything.  I’m proud of how tough we are, how compassionate we are, how much we strive to mentor new spouses, how we all band together through all kinds of trials, of how flexible we can be – I’m so honored to be friends with such amazing women!!

What makes you sad about being a military spouse:

Knowing that I really must use pencil when writing addresses in my address book.  I wish we could all stay together – in the same town, on the same street – until we are old and gray – but that’s just not meant to be.
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See what I mean?  Thanks, Lindsey!

Remember, comment during the week and you might be immortalized next!