Toughest Job in the Army

My Hero (on the left)

My Favorite Panamanian has a T-shirt acquired at some point in our wanderings about the globe as a military family. The T-shirt reads, “Army Wife: Toughest Job in the Army”. Truer words were never written although in deference to today’s PC Nazism it should probably be “spouse” instead of just wife but I come from simpler, less judgmental times. The truth is the Army wife, and mine specifically, is critical to a successful Army career and not for the political reasons many you immediately leapt to when you read that. One of the things I learned early in my career was that an Army career requires an inordinate amount of focus and dedication. That type of lifestyle requires a home where the spouse can be counted on in a thousand unnamed but very real circumstances.

My wife was one of the best I ever saw at this. She was mentored shortly after our marriage by some older Army wives that it was important to support my absences without undue emotion. Those of you who know my wife realize this was not an easy ask. My wife is all about emotion. But she took their counsel to heart. The innumerable times I was called away during our marriage I never had to worry that she couldn’t handle the home front. She handled the lion’s share of raising our two children. When I’m complimented on the fine adults they both grew into I always deflect credit to her. She has such a big heart that it dragged on her to have to be the “bad guy” but she accomplished it with her trademark fierce love for them also.

At Her Happiest

One of the reasons I encouraged her to retire early from work was an acknowledgement of the debt I owe her from her selfless service to our family and by transition to her adopted country. It’s a debt I can never adequately repay but I’m going to keep trying. She’s earned the admiration and respect that was bestowed on her during all my varied assignments and especially when she served various times as a commander’s wife.  It’s appropriate I write about this today because it is Military Spouse Appreciation Day. Based on her performance I’m going to try and make it that day for the rest of my life.

A friend posted this on Facebook today and it captures the special heartache and dedication required of an Army wife: “The Military Wife and Mom” by Savannah Rodriguez.

Behind these boots...

Yesterday, I came home from running errands and I tripped over these boots. I didn't just trip and recover with grace. I tripped and fell on floor holding bag, which contained a carton of eggs, which were now broken, which were now oozing from the bag. As I picked myself back up off the floor, holding my bag of broken eggs, I stared at the boots for a second. And another second. And another second. I couldn't take my eyes off the boots. There was something about these boots that caught my eye. Most people in the same situation would see just an ordinary pair of boots. Most people would see the dirt and dust on the sole that was now peppered across the floor. Most would people see the unkempt laces and smell the slightly offensive scent of "freedom." But I saw something different...In a way, I didn't notice the boots at all. Instead, I saw a partner who was home for dinner in the evenings. I saw a father who was present at bedtime to kiss his kids goodnight. I saw a husband who was freakin' there when I fell over in the hallway like a clutz to help me pick up oozing broken eggs from a shopping bag. I saw the birthday party we attended this weekend with him there. I saw a glimpse of what it's like to have a spouse come home each night and BE present. And for a moment, I felt what it was like to have a normal life. A life where you come home from running errands and trip over your husband's shoes and break eggs. A life where you don't worry about homecoming, deployment, PCS moves, and how the hell you are going to survive all this without a serious amount therapy. Behind these boots...There is a military spouse who is grateful beyond measure that these boots are in the middle of the hallway, to trip over, to fall on your face over, to break eggs over. Because to most people these boots mean nothing. But to a military spouse? These boots mean everything. They mean...he's home.

Sprinkler Time (see below)

At the Park with Grandpa Dan!

Showing him her New Trike

Today is also what I’ve come to think of as Granddaughter Eve as the next generation of my wife’s reflected love will both be in residence tomorrow to join her for a Mother’s Day celebration. I was touched to the heart last night when I called New Jersey and the FBR took the IPad from Wingman, walked over to the counter to set it up and then clearly stated, “There Grandpa, now we can talk.” It suddenly became very hard to focus for some reason, must have been the spring pollen in the air. I think the statement was in reaction to my missing the prior night’s call due to Deckzilla operations. She was her usual ebullient self and very happy because Wingman’s dad was in residence for a couple days so she’ll have had time with both grandpas this week. She also directed Wingman to set up sprinkler oeprations in the back yard.

Grandpa - Let's talk

My Favorite Son was caught in the middle of his early evening stroll around the house with the BRS. He’d just finished up a meeting of his Homeowner’s Association which he somehow ended up as president of. He reports the BRS is a little grumpy during the hours he has access to her after work mainly because she wants to go to bed early. Since she’s sleeping through the night , or least least eight hours, it’s best for her parents that those eight hours start a bit later than 7PM. The negotiations continue on that issue.