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.