Military Monday: The Proof is in the Clematis.

My baby clematis peeking
over the fence

In our family we have a saying--well, several sayings actually--that revolve around postings/PCSs.

"I see someone I know every time I go to the grocery store...it must be time to move."

"I can't go anywhere without running into someone I know...it must be time to move."

"We've almost finished unpacking...it must be time to move."

"The bookcase is just the way I like it...it must be time to move."

"I actually feel comfortable at school...it must be time to move."

"The teachers know who I am...it must be time to move."

You get the idea.

We say these things to torture ourselves, I think. Or to make it easier when the posting message actually comes. A coping mechanism. When you move every 1-3 years, there are some things that you really come to appreciate. The simple fact that your kid's gifts in Math precede them to the next grade. The knowledge that if you needed someone, you'd have more than one person to call. The location of the very best coffeehouse in town. These are things taken for granted in other communities, but in the military community they can be a sign that you've truly settled in a place.

Spring has sprung on Vancouver Island

I love to garden, and one of my dreams is to live in a place long enough to have both an established saucer magnolia, and a full, thriving purple clematis. To date it's never happened.  Even one of the two would be nice, but as always, the magnolia just takes root...and it's time to move.

One of the first things I did last summer was plant a clematis, in hopes it would take root and grow to something fantastic while we were still here. It did well all summer, and I even saw a few blooms before the fall. Throughout our short winter, I watched it, wondering how it would fare.

And now, after a wet and dark winter, spring is here on the pacific coast. Flowers are blooming and birds are singing and last week I noticed that my Clematis plant is not only up, but it's thriving. New shoots are poking out everywhere, and it's grown tall enough to peek over our almost six foot fence.

The clematis is thriving...it must be time to move, right?

Yup. Our posting message came the next day.

And so, the clematis has spoken.  The Dunne family are on the move this summer, this time to the Eastern US.

As much as the upcoming post is exciting, I'll be sad to leave my little clematis plant to fend for itself. Who knows, maybe our next house will have one to take it's place.

And a magnolia too.

Brenda

Like this post? Check out my other posts on 'Posting Phases:Orders, or Season of See-You-Later.

A Day Off

It’s Monday. My schedule is flexible—changing every week—but for this week, Monday means a day off.

“Lucky you,” you say. “I never get a day off!”

Well, believe me, you have my sympathy and utmost respect. I applaud any parent who can manage to keep their house from self-destructing whilst working full time. I don’t know how you do it. Seriously, I don’t.

As for me, I work part-time so that I can manage the day-to-day life of a military family with teens (hubby is away…frequently), but really, my days off are supposed to be writing days. 

With two published books and numerous manuscripts in various stages of completion, I still cringe inside when I call myself a writer, but in reality being a writer is a job. A career. Some extremely fortunate people get to write full time. I am not one of those fortunate people (YET) so for now, my days off are technically working days, just with a different career path. Days off are days supposed to be spent in my favourite writing spot, hammering away at the keyboard while building worlds and creating magic. Days off are creative days, quiet days, productive days while the kids are at school, hubby is at work and my mind has a few blissful hours to focus on the screen in front of me.

Ha ha ha ha.  HA! HA!

Lets just take a look at how today started out...

Yell at kids to get their butts in the car. Frantically make coffee because I NEED CAFFEINE. Dishwasher full of clean dishes, countertop full of dirty dishes. Scrounge to find a cup. Pour coffee. Discover there is no milk to put in coffee. Yell at kids to get in car.  Skip breakfast—no milk for cereal. Too late for toast.

Take milk-less coffee with me. Drop kids at schools. Go to grocery store to get milk. Spend an hour in grocery store because I need a meal plan to get me through a crazy week. Buy a gazillion dollars worth of food. Light goes on in car—need gas. Stop to get gas. Drive home. Start putting groceries away, fridge is too full of last weeks leftovers. Empty fridge of science experiments to make room. Garbage is full. Empty garbage and put in new bag. Pantry is full of empty boxes, dismantle boxes and put in recycling, but recycling is overflowing so empty that. Put away rest of groceries.

Realize my coffee is cold. Make new coffee and leave sitting on counter. Try to find a recipe for chicken-creamy-something-put-it-all-in-a-crock-pot-and-leave-it so I can at least get an hour or two of writing done before kids need to be picked up. Give up on recipe books and find something on pinterest in ten seconds. Chop and dump and put nutritious food in crock-pot.  No space, so empty dishwasher and refill it first. Finish crock-pot meal prep. Realize coffee is cold. Nuke it in the microwave.

Remember that kid needs gym clothes washed. Reset laundry that I washed yesterday because it’s been sitting there overnight and has a bit of a smell (I have a thing with smelly laundry...). Trip over cat. Feed cat. Realize dog is outside in the rain. Let dog in and dry his muddy, disgusting paws.

Remember coffee is still in the microwave, cold. Nuke it again.

Sit down for two seconds to take a breath and realize I don’t have coffee. Go to get coffee. Look at the clock and realize it’s now noon and I haven’t had breakfast. Grab a banana. Sit down. Hear the washer finish it’s cycle, go switch it over, but the dryer is full so empty that and fold clothes. Put gym clothes in washer.

Remember coffee is still in microwave. Nuke it again.

Sound familiar? I’m sure you’ve all had similar days. Big, empty days off that suddenly evaporate and it’s fifteen minutes before you have to go again. How does it happen? Some days that coffee is never warm enough to drink it, and I’m lucky if I write a hundred coherent words—today being one of them.

The good news is, I’ve finally managed to sit down with my laptop and I’ve got two hours left to write. The dog is dry. The crock-pot is cooking. The laundry is doing it’s thing, the counter is clean, the groceries are put away, the recycling is out, the fridge is full and I’ve turned on some peaceful music to write by.

And guess what?  My coffee is beside me.

Cold.

Brenda

Dear Teacher Who Just Gave My Kid A Chance

Dear Teacher, Coach, Instructor, Leader, Responsible Adult,

You don't know me--not yet, anyway--but you just met my daughter. You know, the one with the freckles? The new kid that just moved in from God-knows-where, and came into your wonderful, well established class/team/group/lesson,  the class you've been teaching since these kids were teeny-weeny and didn't want to leave their moms. You've spent forever getting these no-longer-little humans to work together as a group. You've watched them find their passions. You rejoiced when they became friends. You've encouraged them as they fought and found their way. And last year, you jumped for joy when they triumphed and came FIRST PLACE at that big, big BIG competition. Their success was the result of years and years of your hard work.

But today, my kid came into the room, and you didn't have a clue what to do with her.

She walked in...a stranger, an unknown, an alien. The other kids stared. Who in the heck was this girl? Waltzing in, to disturb their perfectly-balanced microcosm of society?

You knew nothing about my kid's abilities, and you were worried that this unknown would turn your award-winning team into a disaster. You wondered if I was being truthful about my kid's background and training. You've had kids like her before...and they didn't last.

You, dear teacher, could have chosen one of two roads.

You could have taken the easy road--treated my teen like a stranger, doubted her abilities, erred on the side of safety. Your gut was probably telling you this. Parents tend to exaggerate, don't they? Unknowns rarely prove worthy of recognition. And God-knows-where likely had horrible teachers-- fakes masquerading as professionals. You could have completely discounted my kid, and you would have been justified in your own mind.

You knew nothing about my amazing daughter...and you could have made a difficult situation much, much worse.

But you did not take this road.

You wonderful, wonderful person. You dear, sweet, patient human being.

You didn't walk down that path at all. There were so many ways you could have hurt my girl, so many simple, minuscule things you could have done to make her already difficult life a nightmare...but you didn't.

Instead, you watched. Not too closely--not so intensely that she felt singled out. You watched just enough to see and understand what she was made of.

You understood that she would be behind in some things, but you also realized that she would be far ahead in others. You were patient when she didn't follow your way of teaching. And when she caught on, you praised her, but didn't dwell. You gave her time to assimilate new methods, and you challenged her on the things she knew. You placed her with others, and encouraged the tiny spark of friendship.

You asked questions...and you believed the answers.

The next class you challenged her a bit more. You put her closer to the spotlight, but you didn't push.

You watched and waited.

You believed in her. You wanted her to succeed. You knew that her many experiences had given her a wide, full background to pull from. You celebrated her differences.

And before you knew it...she became part of the team. Sure, it was a tentative link, a delicate and tender and thin tendril that tied her to this tight-knit group with a BIG history, but you supported that thread. You helped her to weave herself in, and then you let her go.

Dear teacher who just gave my kid a chance, you couldn't have known that she's done this not once, not twice, but six times in her short life. You couldn't have known that being the new kid every other year is beyond hard. It's scary and demeaning and physically and emotionally painful. Your watching and waiting and supporting were vital in not just your class, but in her very existence.

It may have seemed second nature to you, but believe me, it's not like that for some teachers. There are those that are quick to discount, quick to shut out, quick to discriminate. Those that would stomp all over her confidence to make a point.

You did none of these things. Nope. Not you. You gave my kid a chance. And in giving my kid a chance you proved to her that she is worth the effort. You showed her that God-knows-where is a good place to be from. And you strengthened the foundation she'll build on in the next place.

Dear teacher who just gave my kid a chance, you are a true hero.

Thank you, from the bottom of this proud mom's heart.

7 Reasons Why Military Wives are Stressed Out All of the Time (But you may not know it)

I've haven't posted much on my Military Monday blogs over the past few weeks, not for lack of things to post about, but because I had SO MANY things I wanted to post about, and didn't know where to start. I'll admit, I hadn't planned a post for today. Today is 'Family Day' in British Columbia. A provincial holiday designed to encourage family together time. A great initiative, even when together time means posting on your blog while your teens snore happily from their beds at 9 a.m..

This weekend I read two blog posts. The first one, posted by a friend of mine who is currently on a duty station in the United Kingdom, entitled The Military Family Vaccination Problem. You can read it here on Canadian Army Wife's blog. It struck a cord with me, having dealt with this very problem a few weeks ago, so much so that I wrote a long, drawn out comment. Incidentally, the same blog was reposted this morning on the Canadian Medical Association's Blog which you can find here.

The second blog was by Dr. Psych Mom on Huffington Post's blog, entitled: 7 Reasons Your Wife is Stressed Out All The Time. It can be found here.

Both blogs highlighted real problems. One was more military-centric, the other more general. But they got me thinking. I have many, many friends who are military wives who somehow manage to hold down a job, raise healthy, happy children, and meet the 'expectations' of being a military wife with panache. I'd even like to include myself in this group. These ladies take the term Supermom to a new level.

What you don't see, though, is the exhaustion beneath the facade. Why? Because even though they might be stressed out, they have learned to put on a brave face. Their problems are minimal, because hey, their husbands job is so much more stressful than anything they could ever do.

1. Military Wives are Judged Differently Than Other Wives.

This may sound picky, but it's the truth. How many times have I heard, 'But you must be used to it by now'. Or: 'You should have known what you were getting yourself into when you married him'. The thing is, there is nothing you could do to prepare yourself for three days of barfing kids in a snowstorm a thousand miles from your family while your husband is under fire in Afghanistan. Nothing. But it happens.

2. Women Need More Sleep Than Men.

I love that Dr. Rodman included this in her blog, and I'm reposting it here, because in the military lifestyle, the sleep thing is even more complicated. There is no way a military wife would suggest her hubby gets up to deal with the crying baby when she knows he's going to be training with live ammunition the next day. Or flying a multi-million dollar aircraft. Or searching in broiling ocean waters for a lost fisherman. And when hubby is deployed, she's on her own...often for months at a time. If she doesn't get up to soothe the crying baby, no one will. And the toddler gets up at 5 a.m....

3. Help Is Often Far Away.

The closest I have lived to my mother (i.e. the go-to person for mothering matters) is 600 km away. Right now she is an entire country away. More than 3000 km away. And my bestest friend (other than my husband) is almost the same distance. Add time zone differences and busy lifestyles, and I'm lucky if I speak with either of them once a week. That's pretty typical for military wives. And if their most trusted friends are not nearby, they won't ask for help.

4. The Help That's Close is Inaccessible.

This one is tricky. The military is wonderful for providing help for military spouses. We have many, many resources available to us. Social workers, support groups, discussion panels, gym facilities, casual childcare... the list goes on. Especially in Canada, the Military Family Resource Centres (MFRCs) are a huge help in navigating the lifestyle we have chosen to lead. The problem is not lack of resources. The problem is accessing them.

Occasionally getting to the resource, i.e. basic geography, is the issue. Take Ottawa for example. The city is vast. The MFRC is wonderful. But for most wives, the actual programmes are at least a 45 min drive to access.

The biggest problem with accessing help, though, is the stigma associated with it. Military wives, like their husbands, do not want to be seen as weak. They want to be supermom. They want to look like they've got it together. So walking into an MFRC to access a support group for deployed spouses is the last thing they want to do. Nor do they want to tell hubby (who is getting shot at on a regular basis) that they need help.

It's a problem with no ready solution. The MFRCs continue to search for one, though, and for that they should be applauded.

5. Military Wives Deal With Many Life Stressors At Once.

Moving itself is a stressor. Move to a new country, new job, new doctors and new schools with a new rental agreement, an unsold previous home, two toddlers and a newborn? That's a lot of stressors. Add a husband that leaves three days later for a 1.5 month 'indoctrination course'? Yeah. And don't say that would never happen, because I've done it.

Military wives deal with this stuff every one to four years, Sometimes less. Moving is hugely stressful, and there are always issues. Always problems. And mom often takes the brunt of it. The vaccination issues that Canadian Army Wife illustrated are just the tip of the iceberg. Finding a new family doctor (read about it here) is one of my biggest headaches. Same with dealing with new schools and trying to explain an educational issue for the umpteenth time to a new teacher. It's hard to explain how stressful that is to hubby, because as Dr. Rodman says, women are judged differently than men. A dad who walks into the school with a child with learning difficulties is much more likely to be listened to. Especially if he's still wearing his uniform.

Add PTSD into the equation, and life gets even more complicated. Great articles on the PTSD struggle can be found here and here.

6. Tradition Is A Harsh Taskmaster.

Oh boy. Tradition. The unwritten code of etiquette that dictates the everyday life a military family. Rank, duty, honour, expectation. All difficult to manoeuvre and all without a handbook. And each post has it's own micro-culture that you have to figure out upon arrival. Talk about stress. And a lot of military wives have no previous military experience, so learning how to manoeuvre life on base is like learning a completely new culture. With no course to explain it.

7. Guilt.

Guilt is a four letter word masquerading as a five.

In most military families, the husband is the breadwinner. His job--a soldier/airman/marine/sailor--dictates where the family lives, when he works, how long he works and what he does. The military 'owns' him, so to speak.

Most military wives get it. They don't want to complain. They understand that his job is hard. They get that they have to move...again. They understand that hubby has to be deployed...again. But they have to reconcile that understanding with the complex difficulties of their life. They wouldn't dream of asking for help because they see that as weakness. They feel their problems are minuscule compared to hubby's 24-hour-a-day job in the desert. He needs to focus on staying safe. He needs to know that everything's okay at home--his wife is managing, his kids are alright, the bills are being paid and the household is just fine--so that he can concentrate on his dangerous job. So they feel guilty that they even think about being stressed, which only makes them more stressed. And then they feel guilty that they themselves are stressed when hubby's job is just so much more stressful.

And do they talk about it? No.


As I mentioned above, the good news is that there are resources available. And military leaders are aware of these stressors and are trying to help. Talking about stressors for military wives is the first step. Are you a military spouse? What stresses you out? How do you deal with stress? Do you talk about stressors with your husband or do you go elsewhere? What do you find helps?

I'd love to hear below.

Brenda

Military Monday: From Here

Those of you who follow my Facebook posts will have seen the small issue I had with a comment made on my blog last week. (You can find it HERE--scroll to the bottom and click on comments). The comment itself seems harmless enough, and perhaps the commenter, whoever he/she is, didn't fully read my blog post before stating his or her own opinion.

I believe all military spouses are entitled to their opinion and as such, this commenter is entitled to her (or his) own thoughts. I do thank her because she has spurred some lively discussion (and a huge outpouring of support...thank you everyone!) and has caused me to ask some interesting introspective questions.

"...if you aren't from the area (you aren't)...you probably shouldn't be making comments like this if you want to make friends"--Anonymous

Wow.

Just, wow.

Here's the deal. I grew up in small town New Brunswick. Graduated from high school at 16, and haven't lived in my home town since. Not counting inter-city moves on the same posting, I have lived in 16 different places in three different countries since that time. The longest I have lived in one home is three years.

So where am I from?

If I were to move back to my home town (where, incidentally, I still own property), would I feel at home? Would people there say I was from there? Or would they look at me and say I was a foreigner? The truth of the matter is, other than friends I've kept in touch with throughout the years, there are many who wouldn't recognize me. And the town, though the same in some ways, is different in others. I'm sure the wonderful people there still consider me a native, but is that what I think of as home?

Home is a fleeting thought for most military spouses.

It's even worse for military kids. My kids have been with us on all of those moves, so where do they say they are from? One of my children actually thinks of home as 'Grammie and Grampie's place'...where she has never lived.

In reality, we, as military spouses, have willingly given up our roots for the service of our country by choosing to follow our service members wherever they go. Very few military families end up living in their home towns. They live where they are sent, for short periods of time, and then they pack up and move again. As such we are 'from' where we live.

I'll repeat that.

I am from HERE.

I live here. I pay taxes here. My family is here. My furniture, my kids' schools, my job, my grocery store, my pharmacy, my dog, my cat...are all here. In an election, I would vote here.

My home is here.

So I am entitled to an opinion about here. As is every military spouse that lives in this town.

We are here because our spouses have chosen to wear a uniform and stand up for the beliefs that this country, this province and this town hold dear. In a crisis, our spouses would be the first to stand up for here. They would put their lives on the line for every last one of the residents of this place, regardless of where they were born. As would I. It is our civic responsibility--especially as parents--to take part in local educational debates. Our taxes support these schools and we have a right to be involved in their administration.

I even have friends here. Genuine people. Some of whom grew up right here. Do they agree with every one of my thoughts? I don't know. Probably not. But they are my friends because they like me because of who I am, not because they agree or disagree with my opinions. As far as I know, the best way to have a friend is to be one, and those who know me will be aware of my loyalty to my friends. If I were from somewhere else, why would it matter? True friendship has no borders.

Where am I from? Here. And I'm proud to say it.


Brenda

Posting Phase Three: Orders!

Maybe we could just move here? The Dunnes at
the Universal Studios.

As usually happens, my hubby received his posting orders at the moment he least expected... while standing in line at the Duelling Dragons ride at Universal Studios, Orlando! Ah, the age of modern technology has changed the process quite a lot in our 25+ years associated with the military. Nothing like a buzzing Blackberry as you are staring down uncertain death by Harry Potter Dragon-coaster, to let you know your life is--quite literally--about to turn upside down and topsy turvy.

So...joking aside, we are extremely excited to be moving across the continent this year to beautiful Comox, British Columbia! (Or at least I've heard it's beautiful. The closest I've been is Victoria, about 3 hours south.) For my American friends, Comox is north of Seattle. This is an amazing posting for my hubby, and we're all looking forward to spending time with tall trees, big mountains and ocean beaches. Also looking forward to meeting new friends and reconnecting with old ones on the west coast. The last time I lived out west was for basic training in Chilliwack, BC...25 years ago!

What the posting message really means to us (when Dragon rides and vacation trips are over and reality starts to sink in) is that now we can finally DO SOMETHING about our move. Real estate agents have been called on both sides of the country, appointments have been booked and the ball is rolling toward a summer move. Posting Phase Four and all the others will be coming up soon and it's nice to be moving forward instead of flying circles in a holding pattern. Now if we can just sell our house, I can actually look at the real estate sites with a purpose!

Speaking of which... Must. Go. Clean.

Any one else out there received a posting message? Where are you off too this summer?

Brenda

Military Monday: Careers for Military Spouses - Education

PART 3 OF A 3 PART SERIES

One of the many problems for military spouses attempting to embark on a new career path is the difficulty in obtaining a degree or diploma in their preferred field. Once again, we move. And our husbands go away a lot. And we often have young children at home and no family in the same time zone, let alone the same town. The application deadlines generally fall before posting messages come out, so even when you do apply, there's no guarantee you'll be able to follow through. And education is expensive! How do you afford four or more years of courses when you are barely making ends meet now?

So...is there any hope for a military spouse looking to get a new start in the job market?


In a word...YES! Although no one can guarantee it will be easy (it won't), there are many avenues you can pursue, and many military spouses have successfully completed the necessary education in spite of the challenges. The big question is how?

Firstly, all Canadian Military Family Resource Centres have an Education and Training component with Resource Libraries and links to help you investigate the possibilities. Whether it be for adult high school, college, university, or other courses, they are there to help you succeed. Start your journey by paying them a visit.

Not in Canada? Although I'm no expert on the American/British/Australian/other systems, similar programs exist to help you as well. Military.com has a tab dedicated to education for American spouses(as well as many other sites), and for British MoD spouses I believe the HIVE system has resources to help you.

When narrowing down to a specific course of study, a military spouse has to consider several key factors:

1. Does the educational institution have a distance learning possibility for your course? Some universities operate almost entirely online. Abathasca University is one example that has a great track record and is very portable. Other universities suggested by my readers included U of Manitoba, and Mount Saint Vincent University.

2. Is financial assistance available? Some universities offer special scholarships for adult learners, there are also tax breaks for those enrolled in secondary education. A low interest loan may be the best bet. Or, have you considered doing your degree on one of the military training plans, like ROTP? (I got my physiotherapy degree this way) Talk to your local MFRC or the finance/tuition assistance section of your university for more info.

3. Childcare? How can I study with the kids at home? Nothing like having a sick toddler and a twenty page paper due the next day. All I can say to this one is that there is always a way. Not necessarily an easy or perfect way, but a way. Talk to your spouse, friends, MFRC, university, family members...and figure it out. Plan around naptimes and bedtimes. And plan to keep long hours and late nights.

4. What happens if...? Expect problems. Completing a new degree or diploma will take time, energy and money. You will have questions and no idea how to get the answers. You'll have sick kids and no child care, long assignments and no time. You'll get an unexpected posting message. Your spouse will be deployed. Try to plan ahead for possible snags so that when they happen you'll be prepared. In the end it will be worth it!

When it comes to your education...there is always a way.

Have an spousal education story or an education solution you'd like to share? Know something I don't? (Very likely :) )Please comment below, or talk to me on facebook here. You may just help another spouse in the same situation!

Thanks and have a great week!

Brenda