A Wet and Muddy Helping Hand?

My husband just came home from work, looked at the kids who had come running out of their playroom to greet him, and announced, “You should be outside playing.”

He got out the Artic Blast Super Soakers he bought them last week, loaded them up with ice and water, and sent them outside.

Then he took my checkbook and went back to work.

And he actually thinks he’s helping me!

Taking the Hard Way Down

Yesterday my best friend said to me, "Don't be so hard on yourself!"

To which I replied, "Hello! Have you met me?"

Asking me not to be hard on myself is like asking the grass not to grow, or a bird not to fly, or for Rosie O'Donnell to keep her opinions to herself.

It just ain't gonna happen.

I wonder sometimes at the root of this personality trait. I'd blame it all on my parents but now that I'm a parent myself, I'm not so quick to judge. I've seen it firsthand. Perfectionism can be inborn.

But perfectionism is also a detriment to good parenting, I think. I used to spend a whole lot of time lamenting that I was the Worst Mother Ever. Then the aforementioned best friend forbade me to ever utter those words again. Now I only think them.

Clearly, I am not really the Worst Mother Ever. I've never lost my child on a subway, purposely left one in a running car, or heaven forbid, put my baby in the microwave! But I’m not really judging myself against that standard.

No, I’m judging myself against an old friend who is able to home school her kids without going crazy. I’m judging myself against my own mother who made my childhood so much fun. I’m judging myself against the mothers of my kids’ classmates who have never let their kids eat sugar.

As far as being a mother goes, I feel like I fail more than I succeed.

But that couldn't be further from the truth. I have two healthy, amazing, bright and wonderful kids. I can’t be doing it all wrong.

The best parenting advice I ever got was from violin teacher (and author) Edmund Sprunger at a workshop at the Centenary Suzuki School. I believe he was quoting someone else (whose name I cannot remember!) but I have the quote written in huge block letters in my notebook.

He said that kids don't need perfect parents, or even great parents. "They need ordinarily devoted parents."His point was that we spend so much energy on guilt and stress in the strive for perfection that we negate the good we're trying to do. We corrupt the relationship.

That was such a moment of clarity to me. Oh, sure. I still struggle everyday with my own expectations and faults, but I’m here. I am here for my children no matter what.

Perfectionism may be as inborn to me as the length of my bones or the color of my eyes. But that doesn't mean it can rule my life.

Old Home Day

The kids and I met my husband at the BX for lunch today. It is a popular rainy day destination because we can grab lunch and let the kids play on the indoor playground.

While munching on our pizza, we ran into three of our old friends. While talking to these old friends, we chatted about a couple more old friends who are headed back this way.

It’s funny. When you’re on a base long enough that your original social circle has left, pursued other opportunities, and come back again…well…it’s time to get moving.

Every time we run into old friends they say the same thing. “You’re still here?”

Yes. Yes, we are. Eight years and counting. Yes, we’re still in the same house. Yes, call me. No, my number hasn't changed.

They say it is a small Air Force. That no matter where you go, you’ll run into someone you know. It’s true, but when we joined the military we expected to see the world. Not have the world come back to see us.

Memorial Day

My mother-in-law sent my husband a card for Memorial Day.

My husband was dreading telling his mother that he was deploying. Especially since he knew that when she asked him where, he would have to answer, "Iraq."

I can put myself in her shoes and imagine how hard it would be to hear those two syllables coming from my son. As a military wife, it isn't completely impossible to imagine what being a military mother must be like. I could very easily be one myself one day.

It doesn't take much for my mind to wander and imagine generations of young people uttering the most feared collection of syllables to their own mothers. Afghanistan, Iraq, Vietnam, Korea, the Pacific, Germany, on and on to include those men who fought in their own backyards.

The wars may change, but the mothers stay the same.

I asked my husband, a little incredulously, "You're more worried about telling your mother than you were about telling me?"

He told me that yes, he was, because I live this life. I understand it. I expect it. For the most part, I love it. All of which is true.

No, it doesn't take much for me to imagine my own son telling me he is going to war. Maybe being a military wife will help me accept it, but I doubt it. Your husband may be your partner and your soul mate, but your child is like a piece of your heart walking about on its own.

Today is an excellent day to think of Gold Star Mothers who have lost a son or daughter in service to this country. Everyday is a good day to think of Blue Star Mothers whose hearts are fighting right now.

You've Got to Have Friends

One of the cool things about being a military wife is that I have friends scattered all over the country. Of course, that is also one of the worst things about being a military wife, but I digress.

At least once a year, a bunch of my friends gather in one city to spend some time together. Some years, there have been just a few of us; maybe a dozen or so. Other years the number has gotten so high that I didn't even meet everybody in attendance.

I love that my circle of friends is made up of an extremely diverse group of people. I have those I've met in our years traveling through the Air Force, the ones I made in college, and the many that I've made through my writing connections.

Those writer friends are congregating in New York City this holiday weekend. And I won’t be there.

I've missed this get-together other years and really felt like I was missing out. But this year I don’t feel like I am missing a thing.

A lot of those friends are single. Sometimes the grass seems so very green on their side of the fence. But tonight, I am very happy to be sitting in the comfort of my living room watching Landscapers Challenge with my husband. The fun they’re having sipping cosmopolitans in a swanky bar could never measure up to the true happiness I feel to just be with my husband.

I love my friends, and some of them have become family to me over the years. Those friends will be there for me in the months to come when I really need them. But no matter how challenging my life can sometimes be, I wouldn't trade lives with them for anything.

Coming Clean

Am I the only one who does this?

My husband and I are going to a fancy schmancy dinner tonight so we've hired a babysitter. So for the past day and a half, I have been cleaning my house like I'm expecting a visit from the queen.

My husband just can't understand it. "Why do we need to go crazy cleaning the house for the babysitter's sake?" he asks.

But I know some of my friends understand. We met up with the husband of one of my friends at a party a few years back. "Where's Katie?" I asked him.

"Oh, she's still at home mopping the floors for the babysitter, even though the babysitter got there an hour ago," he explained. And then he and my husband spent the next half hour bonding over what crazy nuts they married.

It may seem a little ridiculous to put so much effort into scrubbing toilets, mopping floors, and using a toothbrush on the baseboards just because a babysitter is coming over, but I do it for one simple reason.

Back when I was a teenage babysitter, I used to tell everyone in my family about how messy my client's homes were. And if my fifteen-year-old self was peaking in master bathrooms and laundry rooms, then you can bet some of the babysitters we hire are doing the same thing.

Which reminds me...I better get back to cleaning. I have some stuff I need to hide in the back of my closet!

A Day of Play

I know it's not official, but to me today is the first real day of summer. The kids got out of school on Friday but the weekend is still just a weekend. And yesterday my son had an all-day play date. Today is the first day the three of us have spent all day at home with nothing scheduled to do.

Remember how I said my kids get along so well. Well, they do. But every kid has a breaking point. Eight hours of free play with your sibling without much direction from mom eventually leads to tears. Blows, and then tears.

It also leads to your son wearing Pretty, Pretty, Princess jewelry, but that's a whole other blog post.

I lectured the kids just last night. It's something they hear from me a lot. I always tell them that they will always be in each other's lives. I tell them that your sibling is the one friend you will always have. I wish I could explain to them that your sibling will be the only person who understands when you parents are feeble. I wish I could tell them that they need to stay close so that when we are gone, they'll have each other to hold onto.

But that is beyond their understanding now, I think.

I don't ever want to force my kids' relationship, but there are certain behaviors I won't tolerate. I refuse to constantly be arbitrating between them. They are old enough to work their conflicts out on their own. They have become masters at Rock, Paper, Scissors.

But I must admit that the summer is looming ahead of me; long, hot, and...long. It's time to break out my calender and plans some weekends at Grandma and Grandpa's house.

Wants vs. Needs

I’m having a bad case of the “I Needs” right now.

I need new shoes.

I need a new handbag.

I need new clothes.

I need to redecorate.

I need to travel.

I need to spend money to do things to fill up the time that I feel I’m going to be drowning in when my husband’s far away.

The truth is I don’t need anything. For a long time now I've had everything I need. I have food, shelter and clothing. I even have a nice education and enough diversions to engage my mind. And so do my children. We don’t need anything.

But, man, do I want it. I want it all. I want playthings and diversions to distract myself from the one thing I really, truly need.

I need my husband to come back home safe and sound.

Putting the Suzanne in My Sugarbaker

My best friend quotes a cult favorite television show whenever things get frustrating and tough.

"I am tired, Mary Jo."

You have to say it with just the right accent. You have to expel it with that same force and verve that Delta Burke perfected in her role as Suzanne Sugarbaker.

"I am tired, Mary Jo."

And I am. Oh, so very tired. I could use some of Suzanne Sugarbaker’s attitude right now. Can you imagine Suzanne letting herself get bogged down by the challenges life presents to her?

I mostly have been eating everything in sight. Did you even know that it is possible to eat out three meals a day and still manage to fit in chips, ice cream and a cookie?

It’s a talent, for sure.

I also manage to curl up in a ball and sleep whenever I have a free moment alone. I can go months without a good night’s sleep. Now I can’t go minutes staying awake if the kids are in bed or at school.

Of course, if I was awake more, I’d probably manage to eat more.

Well, I am tired. “I am tired, Mary Jo.” I am tired of being down. It’s time to get back up and take my life back. Tomorrow is the last day of school. It is also my thirty-fourth birthday.

It is a good time to reevaluate and set new goals. Things are settled now. They may not be settled the way I’d like them best, but they are settled none the less. It’s time to make plans.

It’s time to put a little Suzanne in my Sugarbaker.

Only a Mother Knows

Only a mother knows what it’s like to stuff a small pair of underwear into the bottom of a trash barrel in a public restroom.

Well, what else are you supposed to do with a poopy pair of pants? It’s worth the $3.99 to buy a new pair.

It’s a good thing a mother knows to keep an extra set of clothes in the mini-van. Spongebob Squarepants underwear included.

Lazy Days of Summer

I do this every single year!

I go to the kids' violin solo recitals and I get all inspired to find a summer institute for them. I go to my daughter's school play and I try to find a theater summer camp for her. I watch them play their last games of soccer, and I go nuts trying to fit sports camps into our schedule. Then there is academic enrichment, art classes, swimming lessons, library programs, and day camp at school with their friends.

Last year I forwent all these camps because they conflicted with our scheduled long vacation. This year the same thing is true. And I have to remind myself over and over that I will be alone this summer while I try to fit all these activities into our schedule.

When did the summer get so short? And so expensive!

Are parents afraid of those long days of summer stretching into infinity? Last summer, the kids and I spent many a lazy day on the beach. We did things we never have time to do at home. We flew kites. We finished puzzles. Big ones! We even cooked.

Summer may be a time for kids to get ahead and develop and polish those skills they'll use all school-year long, but why am I always so inclined to fill up our summer days the way our school days are already overfilled?

I am very lucky to be able to spend these days with my kids. There is no job or career stress for me. What is more important? That they be stellar violin players or that they have great childhood memories of spending time with their family at the beach? That they can kick butt on the soccer field, or that they have fun playing games with each other?

I'm giving myself a time out. No more summer scheduling for me. These kids are going to have a carefree summer.

Even if it kills me.

My Fiddling Changeling

I love my children. I really, really do.

Before they were born, my husband and I made specific plans to raise them a certain way. We had priorities and goals. Sometimes, when I feel like I want to return them to the stork for a newer model, I have to remind myself that we are doing exceedingly well in those areas that were important to us.

My children have strong moral values. They are just the nicest kids you could ever meet. They are empathetic and loving. And most importantly to me, they are each other's best friend. My friends marvel at how well they get along and how affectionate they are to each other.

But they can drive me bananas.

Although my son looks just like his dad and has the killer brown eyes and long lashes that can get him out of any trouble, in every other way he is a little replica of me. So I understand him very well, but...well...come on. I'm not quite sure how the people who love me deal with my stubborn streak. It's cute on me, but it's not so attractive on a five-year-old.

And my daughter? I think she was switched at birth. She cannot possibly be our child. Or maybe aliens dropped her down on planet Earth and left her to torture us to death in small increments of frustration.

No. I know exactly where she came from. She is a fairy child. A changeling. The fairies took our own human baby and switched her for one of theirs. It's the best way to explain her constant dream-like state. Her body may be living here with us, but her heart, mind and soul are off in the land of magic, fairies and unicorns.

It has always seemed to me that she is missing that drive to be independent that every other child has. Maybe I am an over-achieving, competitive, perfectionist but...

Okay, I admit that I am an over-achieving, competitive, perfectionist which is why her nature is such a mystery to me.

This year she graduated from t-ball to softball. She says she loves it, but she just doesn't have that competitive drive. She loves it because she's made new friends and she gets to sit on the bench and talk to them. This has made attending her games an exercise in self-restraint. An exercise I often fail.

At tonight's game, I decided to test myself. I will essentially be a single parent come June and I need to ease up and let go of some of my expectations. I decided to sit back and relax tonight. I cheered for every girl, including my daughter. But I wasn't going to let anything upset me.

And I didn't. Not even when she struck out twice in a row because she will not keep her head in her swing! (Oops, okay. I almost lost it there.) It was a completely different experience. I actually had fun.

But the big test will be tomorrow night at her solo violin recital. I almost ruined our relationship for good with my criticisms before last year's recital. And the thing is that I sort of already know that she will mess up. That's just her. She'll be distracted by a noisy audience member, or her own dreams of performing on Broadway, or a fluttering fairy suspended just above her strings.

But I have to finally make myself believe that her failures are not my own. I never claim her successes. Those are all hers. So why am I so fast to claim her failures?

Tomorrow night I will sit in the audience with a smile on my face, proud that my child got up there all on her own and tried her best. And I'll remember that she is moral, empathetic, loving and affectionate. And that is more important than a correctly played D sharp no matter what.

Military Spouse Appreciation Day

Today is Military Spouse Appreciation Day.

Military Spouse Appreciation Day was first celebrated in 1984 when then-President Ronald Reagan proclaimed the observance to honor the contributions of military spouses. The military now sets aside the Friday before Mother's Day each year to pay tribute to the spouses who play a vital role in the nation's defense.

Today would be an excellent day to thank a neighbor, friend or loved-one who supports a military member day in and day out.

So, thank you to all of you who share this life with me. The support and caring of my military friends has helped me get through more than you’ll ever know. And thank you to my civilian friends who try their best to understand the life I live. Some of your smallest gestures have meant so much to me. I appreciate you all.

Kids Always Know

They say that kids always know. In fact, whenever I've heard professionals talk about dealing with deployments they always say to be upfront with your kids. Children can sense that something is going on and they’ll worry even more if they’re not sure what it is.

We didn't tell our kids about my husband’s upcoming deployment until we got the final word yesterday. So many things were up in the air and we just weren't sure what to tell them before.

But still, I know they knew something was up.

My husband took my son and me to lunch yesterday. He dropped us off at home and went back to work. As we were walking up the front steps, my son turned to me and said, “I love spending time with Daddy.”

“Oh, me too, buddy,” I replied.

“I hate it when he goes away,” he said.

“Me too, bud. Me too.” It was all I could think to say.

My heart was torn between breaking in sadness over our upcoming separation and swelling with happiness that the guys in my life are so close. Unfortunately at times like this, it is usually the heartbreak that prevails.

Careful What You Wish For

I guess I should have been more careful when I was wishing yesterday.

We got word today. My husband is deploying to Iraq. And he's leaving for training in two days.

Two days.

The good news is that they are splitting the training up differently than we expected. So he'll be leaving for a week early Saturday and returning back here next Saturday. But when he leaves again in mid-June, he'll be gone for about eight months.

I'm still in that weird in-between place where I know he's going, and I know when, and I've told the kids and my best friend, but it still doesn't seem real.

At times like this I can't help but think about my friends who are Army wives. I can never get too down because they have it so much harder than me. I have one particular friend whose husband is on his third year-long tour in Iraq. And his tour was recently stretched to fifteen months. They have been trying desperately to have a baby and she has been struggling with serious health issues. His unit lost four soldiers recently and my friend holds the volunteer position that we in the Air Force call key spouse. She has been holding the widows' hands and attending funerals and memorial services all over the country.

And still my friend finds the time to write me and ask how I am doing.

As we get ready in just two days time to embark on this journey of deployment yet again, I will keep my friend in my thoughts always. She will be my rock and my inspiration.

In the meantime, I'm keeping my sense of humor. Mid-June is still far away. We'll have many adventures and mishaps between now and then.

My Mantra

When times get tough, I have a mantra that I repeat over and over again in my head.

"I am a military wife. I can do anything."

Now, I don't really think that marrying a military guy automatically makes you a strong person. But I do think that living this lifestyle for years can teach you things about yourself that you never dreamed possible. Being a military wife can make you strong, if you let it.

The hardest times for me aren't really when my husband is deployed for months at a time. I get into a rhythm then. I know that every thing falls to me. I know that I'll be mostly alone. And I know that I will not let my kids be hurt. So I gird my loins, plan like crazy, and ask for help when I need it.

That part about asking for help when I need it has always been the hardest for me.

No, deployments aren't fun but we get through them. We even grow closer as we go.

The hardest part for me is the not knowing. The hardest part for me are those times when we think he'll go away, but we're not sure. I can deal with anything, but I have to know what I'm dealing with.

We're in one of those times right now. He is supposed to deploy this summer, not with his squadron but with an Army unit searching out Improvised Explosive Devices on the ground. But it's up in the air. He should go, but he might not.

I know it sounds crazy, but I'd wish they'd just send him already. Yes I'll be worried about him and I'll miss him like mad. But this waiting and wondering and wishing things would happen a certain way kills me.

Send him or don't. But just tell me already.

So I'm really concentrating on breathing right now. In and out. Over and over. And when I have to, I slip in a, "I am a military wife. I can do anything."

I only wish that I really believed it.

This Old House

Time and again I've noticed that if there is one thing civilian people are fascinated by, it is the idea of living in military housing.

My non-military friends are always asking me what it is like. They want to see my house. They want to know how the finances work. They want to know if I love living in a base community.

But I’m not sure how to explain what it is like to live on base. A friend of mine visited me last year and said that it was like I lived on Wisteria Lane. I guess to an outsider that might be true. The pastel-hued houses do sort of give that impression. And it might seem like we’re all up in each other’s business.

But to me it is just home. It is a neighborhood where I feel very safe. It is a wonderful place to raise children surrounded by other families who know what it is like to live this life. It was an especially good place to be in those hard days after September 11, 2001.

Every time my husband deploys overseas I hang my Blue Star flag in my window. It is my little way to say to my neighbors, “Yes, we’re all in this together.”

I love my house. I've seen many a plaque hanging in military families’ homes that read, “Home is where the military sends us!” And it is true. My home is wherever my family happens to be. And my family happens to be wherever the Air Force tells us we’ll be. But this particular house is pretty cool. I am thankful for it.

Though, imagine just for a moment that you must keep your house respectfully clean just about all the time because almost everyone who comes by wants a tour. And then imagine the kinds of pests that can crawl and fly into a sixty-plus-year-old home. And then think of the plumbing problems.

I've long since stopped noticing the noise of jets warming up. I've even gotten used to the smell of jet fuel. To me and my kids, these are the sounds and smells of home. This old house is the only home my kids have ever known. I will always treasure it for the wonderful memories it houses.

Taking One Away from the Team

“When I’m a parent, I will never do that!”

We all have those certain things that we swore we would never do as parents. I swore I wouldn't raise a picky eater. But for a couple of years, my daughter would only eat three foods; chicken nuggets, scrambled eggs, and pancakes.

I sometimes wonder if we’re challenged by the things we swore we would never do just to earn our stripes as parents.

I also swore that I would never ever, no way on earth, not even if I was tortured let my kids be overwhelmed with commitments. Why, oh why, did I think I could handle limiting their commitments when I can barely handle my own?

Somehow over the years we've gotten our kids joined up in so many activities that I sometimes feel like we are drowning. I swear I don’t know how it happened. It kind of snuck up on us.

First we signed my daughter up for ballet because she needed help with large motor skills. Then there were swim classes because kids have to know how to swim. Right? Then preschool started and with it came a chance to play soccer. Since she needed the exercise, that seemed like a great idea too. Then we found out that her school had a wonderful satellite program of the Centenary Suzuki strings. How could we not take advantage of that? So we started violin. And let’s not forget t-ball. Softball is my most favorite thing in the world. How could I not give her a chance to play?

Then my son was old enough for his own activities. Wow. Who would have thought that my second kid would want to do all of these things too?

Now we’re faced with having to weed out some activity to make room for the longer time commitments of more accomplishment. Besides, when you’re facing a deployment, you have to prioritize or you won’t make it through with your sanity intact.

How are we ever to choose? They love it all. It is the one thing that is on my mind all the time now. We spend so much time wanting to give to our kids. It is so very hard to take away.

I've learned my lesson, though. I will never again look at some other parent and exclaim, “I would never do that!” Such a declaration will only come back to bite me in the butt.

Wanderlust

I was born and raised in a suburb of Boston. I went away for college, but only a couple of hours away.

I have a very clear memory of being a teenager and telling everyone that I would live in my hometown for the rest of my life. And then I fell in love with a military man.

To be fair, he wasn't in the military when I fell for him. We were in high school. We went through the normal trials and tribulations of any high school couple, and even broke up, but we were together again before we left for college.

During out senior year, in those months before we found out where his first duty station would be, I remember being terrified that we would be sent overseas. Now I would do anything to live overseas.

Because somewhere in those first couple of years of marriage when we moved among three different places and lived in five different homes, I fell in love with the nomads’ way of life.

Moving no longer seemed like a trial, but an opportunity. Oh sure, each and every move we made had its hardships, and my career never really had a chance to get a foothold, but I just loved the chance to start anew at each new home.

We've been living here for more than eight years.

I thought my children would grow up as military brats. I thought that the constant moving would be hard on them, but I looked forward to the character it would help forge. They would be worldly and maybe speak another language. They would be able to make new friends at a moment’s notice because they would have to. They would be strong.

But fate has dealt us a different hand. My kids have amazing characters forged not by moving hardships but by caring parents and a wonderful school. They are healthy and strong partly thanks to their great pediatrician. They are learning French at school. They are unbelievably good at making friends because of the self-confidence instilled in them by their school friends, teachers, and family.

Now I kind of dread leaving. But we can’t stay here forever and I know we have wonderful opportunities ahead of us. But I've gotten comfortable. Even though I hate the summer heat and miss the cosmopolitan life of the big city, I love the people we've made family here.

It’s time to ramp up my wanderlust again. It’s time to dream of life in England, Germany, or even Alabama. We might not be leaving soon, but we will be leaving someday. And I want to be ready.

As long as I don’t have to go back home to that little Boston suburb, I’ll be happy.

My Life as a Military Wife

Hear the words “military wife” and certain images are going to pop into your head. Whether you've never been on a military base in your life or you are currently raising a family while your military husband is deployed you can’t help but be influenced by the way the media portrays those of us who are married to the military.

I've been married to the military for eleven years. (I had to just count them on my fingers!) For more than eight of those years, my husband and I have been stationed right here at Barksdale Air Force Base.

When we decided to have kids back in 1998, I never ever thought they would be born and raised in the South.

But I've done lots of things that I never ever thought I would do.

I never thought I would drive myself to the hospital when my water broke because my husband was flying in his B-52. I never thought that I would learn to kill roaches with old combat boots because my husband was too busy fighting his own war half a world away. I never thought that I’d host wives’ coffees and bake cookies for airmen while changing poopy diapers and mopping up pee. (Well, I did wash my hands!)

I never thought I’d be like the proper pearls-and-white-glove-wearing women that I imagined military wives to be. And I’m not.

But that’s okay. Because if there is one thing I've learned in my years as a military wife it is that we come in as many different flavors as there are different types of women. It is our diversity as a group that makes us special.

I love being a military wife. I love being a military mom even more. And I look forward to sharing some bits and pieces of that life with you here on my very own blog.