I Love My Military Life

“I could never be a military wife.” That statement, which is usually followed up with, “I could never do it.” pops up frequently in my routine, ordinary, everyday life. Although I am someone who talks…a lot, both statements usually leave me stumbling for words. So for all of the times I have been asked, “How do you do it?” here is my reply.
I love being an Air Force wife. I really do. I love that in a few days my husband and I will dress up and attend the annual Air Force ball. Instead of the anxiety-ridden “Who are you going to Prom with” high school years I am excited about wearing a gown and attending a fancy event with my husband. Not many companies celebrate the birthday of their inception with a formal ball and I love that every September we do.
I love the monthly social events for spouses at McChord. I am a regular at Bunco night, and though I usually do not break even in the $5 I shell out to play, I love the camaraderie and the bustle the game provides. I love going to the squadron spouses’ coffees. I love the chance to be among other wives and discuss any number of topics over a glass of wine and a menagerie of incredible appetizers.
But mainly and most importantly, I love being with my husband. In a society where divorce is common and marriages stumble all around us, I am proud to be Graham’s wife. We go through the ups and downs of married life combined with the rigors of deployments, temporary-duty-stations, and knowing that the Air Force generally comes first, and I cannot imagine being with anyone else.
I love that I found a person to be with who accepts my quirks. Admittedly I do have many. Graham is the realist to my head-in-the-clouds ideas. He knows to just walk away when I suggest far-fetched “what if we just tear down that wall” home renovations. He doesn’t bat an eye when I stumble over the pronouncement of Worcestershire sauce for the ten-thousandth time. And he has agreed to dress me only in non-itchy 100% cotton if I ever become unable to speak or dress myself.
I have found in my husband someone who has committed himself to a profession that not many are willing to. I know that when he leaves the house he goes to a job that at times can be hazardous, dangerous and sacrificial. He is a man who stands by his convictions and I know he will try his best to make it home safely.
My husband is worth it. He’s worth the moves to places where we know no one. He’s worth the tears when we bid him good-bye for another countless time. He’s worth staying for. He is why I do what I do and why I love being an Air Force wife.

The Challenges Of Military Moves

Moving. The mere thought of packing up ones existence and relocating to a completely new place might send some shuddering off in fear. However the act of moving no longer frightens me. I have become nomadic. I get anxious when I think of the time in our future where we no longer pack up the house every few years and head out on a new journey.
I am not sure that I would qualify myself as an expert on moving, though I am accustomed to it. Even before marrying into the military realm of “just when you get comfortable you move” way of life I lived in a series of college dorm rooms and apartments. I once fit all of my belongings in my two-door hatchback while I waited for my new apartment to become available.
Yet, living the transitory lifestyle of the current Air Force brings upon a whole set of challenges. One cannot fully appreciate each obstacle until you are right in the middle of it. A big test for me has been furniture shopping. We have an allotted weight limit for each move. If you go over the weight limit you can expect to pay out of pocket for the difference. Since we were right at our limit during our last move I have become obsessed with the weight of any new furniture we purchase. What comes into our house must replace items that were already here. Our new table and chair set replaced the old set plus two bar stools.
My husband thinks I’m a little fanatical about it and I admit I probably am. But barring my bringing an industrial-sized scale into furniture stores I will continue to fret about our weight limit and dream about our forever home which I will furnish with massive furniture that requires four bodybuilders to move.
Another challenge is the delicate subject of whether or not to feed the moving company’s crew. These are the people who will see everything you own. It’s humbling to know that complete strangers touch every item I possess as they box up my home. So, we play nice and buy the doughnuts in the morning and pizza for lunch. Several kinds of soda are stocked in the coolers for the movers to take freely. It’s as if we are making an offering to the gods in the hope that everything placed on the moving truck will be unloaded in the same condition we last saw it in.
Although we are not moving this summer our turn is around the corner. I am slowly beginning the process of weeding out the extras in our home. As a reformed pack-rat I no longer consider myself a curator of material items but hopefully a purveyor of what really matters: children who know the value of family strength and a household that can function wherever our next journey will take us to.

Springs Arrives Amid Cookie Drive

You may have seen me recently. I was the one planted behind a table at the entrance to a number of local grocery and retail stores. It was my little Girl Scout asking if you’d like to buy any cookies. I stayed in the background while she sold her heart out.
This is my daughter Paige’s third year in Girl Scouts, her second year selling cookies and my first in being the troop’s cookie manager. I was naïve enough to believe her troop leaders when they said being the cookie mom wouldn’t be terribly difficult.
Until I walked in the previous cookie mom’s shoes I had no idea how much work went into the annual cookie drive. For nearly three weeks we had cases of cookies traveling from our house to booth sites. Boxes of cookies sat in our front room teasing two-year-old Drew. Fortunately my fear of him tearing into hundreds of cookies went unfounded.
With Paige being school-aged we have sought out programs that help her fit into our current area. A program such as Girl Scouts offers her a chance to blend into a new setting while still retaining the core beliefs and structure of the previous one.
More so than the adults in a military family, military kids are perhaps the ones that carry the most weight on their little shoulders. With each move we ask them to say good-bye to friends that they may never see again. We ask them to carry on when a parent is sent away to a dangerous and often lengthy deployment. Mostly, we ask them to understand a way of life that sometimes we as adults cannot even grasp.
My hope is that my kids will see that children in Texas, Florida or Wisconsin are really the same as the children they meet here in Washington. Girl or Boy Scouts and similar programs help facilitate that goal.
We are blessed with Paige’s placement in her current Girl Scout troop. Her leaders have dedicated vast amounts of time and energy to nurture thirteen girls on a weekly basis. I applaud every troop leader who volunteers their time to their scouts.
In selling boxes of cookies, Paige has witnessed what hard work can do. Her troop will be attending camp this spring, funded on the profits from this year’s cookie sales.
While participating in booth sites, Paige and I were able to create our own special memories. We witnessed the kindness and friendliness of our fellow South Hill neighbors. Random comments from strangers prompted more in-depth conversations between the two of us.
On our last Sunday of selling, as I was pulling two cartloads of cookies to our last booth site, Paige turned to me and said, “Mommy, you are beautiful.” Every bit of anxiety I have experienced at being a cookie mom was completely washed away. For that brief moment my daughter, who looks like me, melted my heart.