April: The Month of the Military Child

FIVE REASONS MILITARY CHILDREN ARE AWESOME:

About two weeks ago I had the privilege of sitting in a local elementary school, listening to children from 6th to 10th grade give speeches--in French--as part of a nationwide competition, the Concours d'Arts Oratoire, (Oratory Arts Competition). It was the district finals, and my youngest daughter, who started French Immersion in 4th grade, was one of three finalists speaking in the 8th grade group of 'early immersion' kids, kids who started French in kindergarten.

Her speech was on Les Enfants de la Militaire, basically Military Children. She spoke fluently in a language she's only known for four years, with a passion born from life in seven homes in three countries, seven schools, numerous deployments and goodbyes.

Although my French is spotty, I have to say I was so proud to listen to her speak. She answered questions--in fluent French--about what she loved about being a military child, about the Month of the Military Child, and about her reasoning behind her speech.

She won the division. (so proud!!)

And then a week later my husband received a posting message for another cross-continental, cross-border move.

There's no life like it, right?

The fact is, military kids put up with a lot. How many first and second world war children never got to meet their fathers? How many times do military kids have to say goodbye to their bestest of BFF's, because their parent has to go to a new location? Stressors abound in the military lifestyle, and often military kids endure them in silence, because that's just the way life is.

But it's not all bad. In fact, the military life is a pretty fabulous way to grow up. The flower of the military child is a dandelion, and for good reasons. They move, they set up roots, and they flourish wherever they're put. In our family we've

embraced the lifestyle, and it's made all the difference. Being a military child sets kids up for real life.

They're amazing individuals, and here's five reasons why:

1. Military children are resilient.

All of that movement, all of that change, sets kids up well for real life. Your high school friends most likely won't be there to support you through college. And jobs don't necessarily happen where you want them too. Like many things in life, the only way to learn how to adapt to new situations is to experience them--and these children experience many, many new things in their early years.

2. Military children know respect.

In a culture which demands respect, military kids learn the meaning first hand. Yes, there are exceptions to the rule (we've all met that kid), but generally military kids understand that rules are there for a reason.

3. Military children are good workers.

When my husband went away on deployment in 2010, I knew I'd need help with the day to day things or the house would slowly deteriorate around me. I set up a chore chart, with three sets of chores, rotating between the 3 kids each week. Some weeks were a little harder, some easier, but, surprisingly enough, it worked. My kids learned that if they didn't do the dishes one day, the pile would be even bigger the next. Six years later, that chore chart still exists, and although I sometimes have to prompt, they generally sort it out. It's a huge help. And skills they will need for later in life.

4. Military children are independent.

You don't have to be a teenager to know that high schools are social jungles. Walking into a new high school alone, without knowing a soul, is a seriously stressful event. But they do it. Time and again. And next year, it will be a new school, a new job, and a new team in a different place.

5. Military children have global experiences.

One of our favourite parts of being a military family is the opportunities we've had to see new places and experience new cultures. Even within Canada, things are done differently in different parts of the country. Our kids are experienced travellers, and they understand that life does not stop at the high school doors. There is so much more out there and they recognize that they've had many opportunities others don't get to experience... like learning to speak French. Or hanging out with dad at an air show. Or even going to school in a different country.

Do you know a military child? Let them know how much you appreciate their silent support.

Are you a military child? Thank you. Your service behind the scenes makes our world a better place.



Brenda

Vaccinations are a Pain

We are trying to update our vaccination records.

Trying.

To update.

Our vaccination records.

Trying.

Holy old moly.

Just looking at that declaration will give most military families stress. In fact. I discussed vaccines as one of the 7 Reason's Military Wives Out are Stressed All of the Time.

I was really keen two postings ago--gathered all of our bits of paper, tiny booklets and photocopied records and had our local public health office (which was actually NOT local, had to drive almost 45 minutes to get there..but that's a different story) update their system and print off a copy for each of the kids. This was not easy. In fact, it was so complicated that from that day on we've kept our vaccinations records in our fire-proof safe.

From there, we moved...within the same province but to a new school district. Easy, right?

WRONG. About a week into our new school year I got a nasty finger-pointing letter from the local school board saying if I didn't get our records updated (remember, they were updated) my kids would be suspended. Yup. Suspended. You'd think they would be kidding about this. But no, they are not. Ask my friend who just a week ago got a suspension letter for her kids because of the school board's vaccination clerical error.

So on top of moving stress, new job stress, new everything stress, there was the added stress of proving that yes, indeed, we are good parents and our children have had all of their required vaccinations on time. We are very pro-vaccine. Just have difficulty keeping things organized when we move every two years.

Back to our current situation. I wasn't as keen on our last move, and forgot to get an updated vaccination record as we packed five humans and one horse into a truck and trailer for a cross-continental move. My bad. Like I said, moving is stressful. I figured when the time came, it would be just a quick phone call or request. Once again, wrong (will I ever learn?). Provincial public health authorities do not talk to one another. My friend over at Canadian Army Wife blogged about this problem here. In order to access our records from our previous post, we need the doctor's notes...but the doctor has moved. Yep. No longer at that clinic.

The saga continues.

Anyway, at this point, I would just like to say that I have the most wonderful husband on the planet. 

Why? Because he has made it his job to get our records sorted out, so that I don't have to.

I love him. Do I ever. He is the best.

Now if only he could offer up his arm for the list of about four needles I need to have updated.

Alas, that is a pain I must bear myself.


Brenda

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

The Art of Just Sitting

Attwood Bay, BC

Life is busy.

Life with three teens, two careers, and a husband in the RCAF sometimes borders on the insane. I love my life, though, and all of the amazing opportunities it presents. I love that I get to meet so many interesting people. I love that at my day job I can comfort the elderly in their final stages of life. I love the unique experiences that come from being the mom of three active kidlets and the wife of a serving member of the Canadian Armed Forces. And I love that we've seen so much of the world because of the fact that my hubby serves.

But sometimes--like now, for instance--I need to just sit.

Okay, maybe I'm not just sitting. I'm writing. But, For me, writing's like reading. It's an escape. I'm one of those extroverted introverts, and my batteries require a few minutes of calm and peaceful now and then to recharge themselves. A coffee, a comfy chair, some quiet music, a book or a laptop, and--my special treat--a warmed hot pack on my back. Oh, yeah. Bliss with a capital B. Heaven.

I need that time to rest my brain. Free time is so rare these days that when it happens it's almost a shock.  Wow! Is that really an hour in my schedule where I don't have to drive, work, organize or clean? I don't have groceries to buy, or checks to write, or meetings to attend, or laundry to do or kids to pick up or phone calls to make or forms to fill out or prescriptions to pick up or appointments to make...

Today, I have a day off. Imagine! What a strange concept.

Daddy-daughter moment

The problem is, in today's society our brains and bodies get so programmed to go a thousand miles a minute that it's hard to do nothing. It's hard to put the smart phone down (are they really that smart?), forget about the to-do list (oh yeah, we need bread...Must. Write. That. Down.) and be comfortable with simply existing. We may understand that the world will not cease because we are stepping away from it, but it's darned difficult to let ourselves pull back. We have to force ourselves to just sit.

So here's a scenario. Five days on a thirty-five foot sailboat. In a place so isolated it's called
Desolation Sound.

If you follow my Facebook page, you'll have seen some of the pictures. It took months of planning, hours and hours of preparation, and a big, circled no-you-may-not-book-anything-here slot on the calendar, but the Dunne Family were able to sail away to a place where there was no cell phone service. No wireless internet, and sometimes the mountains were so tall around us that they blocked our GPS.

Three teens, three books...

When you are that far from civilization on a tiny boat with four other people, just sitting is not just a necessity, it's an art.

We read a lot of books. In the five days, my eldest daughter read six. We played cards. We scanned the water for sea creatures (we saw porpoises, seals, thousands of jellyfish and even a pod of orcas), and the shore for bears (sadly, didn't see any). We snacked and fished and slept and sailed and at times we just sat.

It was awesome.

And when we came back, even though our bodies were tired and our laundry bins were full, our brains were rested...and our familial batteries were recharged for the insanity of the fall.

It's been two weeks since we returned from our holiday, and there's been barely a moment to think since, so days like today--with empty day planners and kids at school--are a treat to be savoured. Precious time to reflect on a summer well-spent, and maybe to read a little, write a little and just sit. I don't think you can ever perfect the art of just sitting...but I perhaps today I'll give it a shot.

And now to re-heat that hot pack...


Brenda

Strange humans...what are your rushing for? 

Military Monday: You Know You Are a Military Spouse WHEN... (for June)

After this morning's Facebook post (which, by the way was entirely serious) I thought I'd sit down and write out a Dunne list of military spouse-isms for the end of June. Feel free to add yours in the comments!

You know you are a military spouse when...

1. You see a moving truck pull into your subdivision and you have a minor panic attack.

Are we posted? Did I forget to put it on the calendar? But I just finished unpacking! Is someone I know moving? NO! They can't leave! I like them!

You get the picture.

2. You start packing for your next move and realize you have ten boxes you still haven't unpacked from the last move.

OH! That's where that pair of shoes went! I've been looking for them for three years! And...oops. I don't think that ham sandwich was intended to be packed in the foyer closet box...eeeewww.

3. You're filling out the criminal record check forms so you can coach your 4 y.o. son's soccer team, and you have to look up postal codes for three places to put in the 'List addresses for the past 5 years' section.

Not lying. I had to do that two weeks ago for a different summer activity.

4. You decide to file your kid's report cards properly (for a change) and realize last year's report card is still in a box. Somewhere.

Remember those ten boxes? My advice is to start looking in the bottom one.

5. You give up trying to find last year's (insert summer item here) and just buy a new one. 

It probably was broken/wouldn't fit, anyway.

6. You start looking at real estate websites in random locations, because you know you're likely posted next year. 

I am addicted to the multi-listing service (MLS). Just the whisper of potential postings sends me in a frenzy of home shopping. This year is no exception. And no, we aren't moving...yet.

7. You could wallpaper your house with rainbows of those little moving company stickers. 

Yep. Been there.

8. You know what FIGMO* stands for.

I--not lying--explained this acronym to one of my civilian co-workers this past week. She'd never heard of it. I enlightened her and she totally agreed she was FIGMO. :)

9. You are FIGMO.

Even if you didn't work during this post. You get that June feeling. You know, the THANK GOD SCHOOL IS FINISHED FOR A FEW MONTHS, feeling. Or maybe you're glad to be leaving your job too...and going along with your spouse. There's something so freeing about moving to a totally new place with a new job and new potential friends.


10. June is a happy-sad-stressful month.

See number 1. Who is leaving? Who is moving in? Where are you going? Where is your spouse heading on exercise? How are you going to deal with kids leaving their friends?

Looking ahead to moving and having friends move is emotionally draining. Actually June is draining.

Take heart. August is only a few months away.


Brenda


*FIGMO= F*@# It, Got My Orders.

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.

Throwback Thursday: Chin High and Pushing Through.

The following is cut and pasted from my older blog (This Mom is Overdunne), originally posted five years ago in July of 2010. At the time my hubby was deployed, and I was feeling...well...hard done by. A lot has happened since then,(two moves, many more challenges and successes...) and we've weathered the storms to get to where we are now. 

I have many friends who are in the various stages of deployment, and I wish them all the best as they hold their chins high and push through the difficult days. 

I hope they know that they are loved. 

I hope they know that it will pass. 

And I hope they know how very, very important they are.


Originally posted HERE on July 18, 2010:

Quarrels, Quinte Cups, Conversation Killers (and Queries)

It's been a month and a half that I've been parenting on my own, thanks to the Canadian Armed Forces. The kids and I have gotten into a routine. We've pulled one of the chairs away from the table, so it doesn't seem so empty without dad (pictured, left) there. I work my shortened work week, I taxi the kids to their activities, and I try (unsuccessfully) to keep the house from looking like a complete pig stye. I feed them at least one vegetable a day. We eat out more than once a week. Pretty normal, actually.

According to my handy-dandy Family Deployment Handbook (FDH), I'm right on schedule. I'm in the 'Recovery and Stabilization Phase'. Meaning...I'm not sick? And I'm not so unstable? That the old boat ain't so tipsy? True, the almost-in-labour anxiety has calmed down, and I spend less time sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor sobbing. But I still hate it. Just because I'm not running down our country road screaming obscenities and pulling my hair out doesn't mean I don't think about it. 

The FDH states that by week 6 I should be experiencing "Feelings of increased confidence, independence, competence, freedom, pride, isolation, anxiety and depression". How can you be confident and still be depressed? How can you feel competent and independent, yet have anxiety? Living in deployment-land is full of nasty contradictions. I'm moodier than a PMSing teen deprived of sleep and coffee. One thing's for sure...if Momma's grumpy, everyone's grumpy. I try to be patient. But patience has never been my forte. So the kids are less patient with each other...and then the fights start. I have adopted the 'Mom's having a time out' technique. Rather than blow up at them for blowing up at each other, I lock myself in my bedroom and count to 1000 (10 just doesn't cut it). It works...more or less. The kids go 'Huh?' and stop quarrelling. And I get a precious moment or two by myself.

It bugs me that the little FDH book is so accurate, though. I hate to be pegged. But it's right. Independent? My husband (and parents, and siblings...)will tell you that he didn't have to go away for me to be independent. And now that he's gone, independence has hit full force. Whatever you do, DON'T suggest I can't do something. I'm like a kid with a dare. Two weekends ago the girls were at their first away horse show (One of the Quinte Cup Series)of the season. Two ponies, two girls, my son, saddles, bridles, helmets, show outfits, water, a sun shelter, chairs, food, diabetic supplies (for my youngest) and coffee, all had to be packed into boxes, trucks and trailers for a day long show in the heat. We got up at 4 a.m. to leave. And it went...okay. We got there, the girls showed, and we came home. I did it, with help from others, of course, but I did it. So there, ha ha. Independent me. 

And as to coversation killers... I read a post on Facebook this week that just about hit the nose on the head. I can't find it now (of course) and can't find the author, so forgive me if you wrote it. (And let me know if you did so I can give you credit) but it was along the lines of "14 things to NOT say to a spouse of a deployed soldier". I have great friends, and they generally know how it is with me. But I'd like to paraphrase a few of the points:

1. "I know how you feel." You don't. Heck, I don't even know how I feel most of the time. If your husband has NOT gone away for 6 months and flown in and out of Afghanistan at least once during that time, you don't know how I feel. If you haven't sat beside your diabetic daughter at 3 in the morning praying her sugars come down, you don't know how I feel. Just like I don't know how you're getting through whatever challenge you have in your life right now. My FDH tells me I feel isolated. Darn right. I'm alone in my experiences. I don't generally want to talk about it with anyone, because it kills the conversation dead. 

2. "It could be worse, he could be in..." Gee, thanks. Make me feel even worse than I already feel. Sure, he could be somewhere worse. I'm sure there are a million things that could make my current situation even more stressful. Do I want to think about them right now? NO.

3. "Well at least the kids are older (not babies)" Have you ever had a pre-pubescent daughter? Not fun. Tears at least twice a day. And my kids are old enough to understand where their dad is. They get it. It's on the news every day. Someone killed, someone bombed, funding cuts...I try to turn off the news, and thankfully hubby is not in Afghanistan all of the time, but they hear it. And they think about it. Babies don't. 

I could go on and on, but the negative vibes are making me grumpy, so I'd like to add a change of tone. I want to give you a few things I'd LIKE to hear. Music to the deployed spouse's ear, a balm for my tired soul. 

1. "Here's a gift certificate to the spa. I'll stay at your house and watch your kids." I don't have time to look after myself these days, what with summer (ie kids are home), work and taxiing. I'd love to have a moment alone. And if my kids are home, I have less to worry about than if you took them to...Wonderland or anywhere else far away and less safe. I can't relax if I think there's some danger. And with a diabetic daughter, keeping my diabetes-educated kids together, and keeping them at home means easy access to whatever food, medicine, or equipment she needs. If you offer something like this to a military spouse, though...make sure you follow through. There is nothing worse than looking at a gift certificate on the fridge for six months straight. And I can guarantee they won't ask you about it.

2. "Let me pick up the milk, pizza...(insert food item here)" I could really use help with lunch/supper now and then. I love to cook, but hate to decide WHAT to cook. We live 10 minutes away from even a corner store, so dinner = preplanning. The less I have to do, the better.

3. "You look great." "You're doing great." "You're a super mom." "You're husband is so lucky to have you." "Insert compliment here." What I'm doing is hard. My main cheerleader is gone. My kids complain. A little bit of heartfelt flattery goes a long way. 

And here's one for just me...

4. "I loved your query...please send me your full manuscript!" Sorry, had to say it. My biggest project for the week ahead is to FINALLY send off a couple of queries to agents in hope that one of them will support my book. A wholelotta anxiety over that one, I can tell you! I've spent over a year editing and coddling it since my last misguided attempts(yup, I did EVERYTHING wrong with those first queries). It's time to let go again, and see what happens. Query number one went out today. Wish me luck.

Brenda

Five Reasons Women SHOULD Consider a Career in the Military

There's been a lot of discussion in the Canadian media this past week about sexual misconduct in the military environment. Our Chief of Defence Staff, Gen Tom Lawson commissioned a review of our armed forces in 2014, and the findings were reported in a document released this week here.

It's a pretty harsh report, denoting the military environment as 'hostile' and 'sexualized'.

Funny, I never felt that way in my years of uniformed service. The possibility existed, yes, and there were moments where I felt uncomfortable. But never hostile, and no more so than I'd feel in many other male-dominated environments. Or that I'd felt working at my previous job at Tim Horton's Coffee Shop. Let's just say I had my butt pinched more than once as a waitress. And NEVER as a uniform wearing military woman.

Ask any woman who's walked into a previously men-only board room, or a football pitch, and they'd likely say they felt the same way. And as women continue to work their way up into a 'mans world' this will continue to happen.

Society needs to change, and the military is just one aspect of it.

But.

In spite of all of the issues, the armed forces are a GREAT place for women to work. Especially now. Why?

1. Equal pay for equal rank. Nowhere else are you so clearly eligible for the exact same pay for the same work, no matter what gender. If you are a three year corporal or a two year captain, you make the same pay for the same job. Pay is tightly controlled by a series of rules.

2. You get paid to keep fit. That's right. It's expected that you will exercise. It's part of your job. What other careers allow you time off of work to go to that kettle-bell class?

3. Maternity benefits. In Canada our military women get paid time off of up to a year for maternity benefits. Bonding time with baby is so important. And our armed forces allow women that time.

4. You get to learn to shoot. Or fix trucks. Or drive big machines. Or fly fast airplanes, or run hospitals or save lives. There are so many options. And you can finish your university education with no debt, a job waiting and a decent starting salary. One of my favourite things about completing my degree with the ROTP program was the fact that my books and equipment were also covered. No huge textbook bills to worry about. And I still use my degree that the military paid for. Win-win.

5. Opportunities for advancement. Yes, there are women generals, and colonels, and warrant officers. These opportunities are improving (especially now) and career progression is more and more regulated.


And the best part? This new report will only make things even better, as leadership continues to push for gender equality. For no-tolerance on sexual harassment in the workplace, and for safe, victim-centred reporting processes. Where else in the workforce can you find that?

Not at the coffee shop.


Brenda

Military Monday: That Time of Year

Make new friends,

But keep the old,

One is silver- 

and the other gold. 

~Anonymous

Yes, it's that time of year again. The posting messages are out, the houses are on the market, and the house hunting trips are booked.

April in the military is not just about new beginnings--not just spring and newness and fresh air. April is the time when the realization starts to hit that this too must come to an end. And when the emotional roller-coaster starts it's trek uphill for both the leavers and the left.

There are two sides of each move and, depending on the year, military families experience both. Every year we know it's coming. Some years we leave, some years we don't. Sometimes the goodbyes are more permanent, and sometimes they are more like see you next year. Sometimes blossoming connections get cut short and come to a quick and final end, and sometimes they are just the beginnings of deep-rooted, life-long friendships.

This year our family gets to stay put. It's a relief in some ways...no boxes, no stressful search for a new home, no schools to pick and trips to plan. Even writing about it elevates my heart rate and makes me sweat. Heck, we still have boxes from our 2014 move, waiting for me to dive in and organize (and they'll likely continue to wait until the next move...).

But, like every year before this one, staying put is bittersweet...because already the process of goodbye has begun.  I have several new friends who are preparing to move, and although I'm happy for them, it makes me sad to think that we may never see each other again when they do. I know from experience that it is much, much easier to leave than to be left. The leaver has the excitement of new adventures ahead, and the left has a hole where a friend once was.

What's amazing about military families is that they keep doing it. They keep searching out friends, even knowing there's no permanence to the situation they are in. They push themselves to say hello, even when they are emotionally fragile from last year's loss. Some posts they may spend in a rut of loneliness, but they know that maybe the next time, the next place has a BFF just waiting to be discovered.

And the result? Maybe not in all cases, but in my case a wealth of wonderful, life-long connections. Kindred spirits from afar. Friendships across the globe. People I love dearly and would do anything for. Unique, amazing individuals who I may never see again, but who have touched my life.

And I'd like to think, in some small way, I've touched theirs.

Sure I'm sad it's that time of year. I'm sad to know that my friends are leaving. But this world has a way of keeping the connections we make. I know there's a new friend waiting, just around the corner. And I know my old friends are always there.

Brenda

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

Five Calendar Years

So, this morning I was surfing through twitter and I saw this tweet:

There's still time to nominate an author for the 2015 Lieutenant Governor's Award for Literary Excellence! The... http://t.co/nfiw3gNQD7
— The BC Book Prizes (@bcbookprizes) January 28, 2015

I was all YAY! A literary prize! I live in BC! Maybe I can apply!

Before I go any further, let me add that I in no way have delusions of grandeur. I write. I write good things, and I write some not-so-good things. I probably will never win a literary prize, but I have to admit, I'd like to someday write something that was worthy of recognition. Maybe I haven't written that yet, but someday. It's a secret (well, not so secret now...) dream of mine.

You miss 100% of the shots you don't take, right? So it was worth a look.

I clicked on the link, which goes directly to the rules. And yes, my eyes were a bit big for the award's specifics. It says this...

The recipient of the Lieutenant Governor’s Award for Literary Excellence will be recognized as having:

• written a substantial body of literary work throughout their career; and
• contributed significantly to the literary community/industry of the Province of British Columbia.

Obviously, I have not contributed significantly to the literary community of the Province of BC. Heck, I just got here 6 months ago. So no, I'm not really the one for this prize. But with an eye for future possibilities I read on to the eligibility requirements.

1. Writers must be Canadian Citizens or Permanent Residents who were either born in British Columbia or whose principle place of residence has been British Columbia for at least the last five (5) full calendar years.

There it is.

At least the last five full calendar years.

You all know military spouses move a lot. You can read my rant on this HERE. It pretty much says it all.

Since I began my journey with the military as an Officer Cadet more than twenty-five years ago, I have not lived ANYWHERE for five full calendar years.

Let me repeat that. I have not lived ANYWHERE for five full calendar years. 

I managed to get six years in Ontario, but lived in two different places (with the option to make that four...which we, as a family, decided against) in that time frame. It's a big province.

So basically, this award is out--likely permanently--because I choose to follow the man I love. And, I might add, have a great adventure doing so.

This is not the first literary award I've looked at that I was not eligible for because of my status as a very mobile military spouse, and it won't be the last. And I have no idea how to fix it. I'm not going to stop moving, and I'm not going to stop writing, and I'm not going to give up on my dream of someday writing something so exceptional as to warrant recognition.

Thankfully there are some awards, the biggies like the Giller Prize, the Governor General's awards and Commonwealth book prizes, where being a resident anywhere in the country is enough. I can dream about those ones. Those are big dreams for far out possibilities.

I know...Perhaps I can be instrumental in advocating for a Military Family Literary Award? In fact, that's a great idea. An award for people like me, who write and move and deal with the unique stressors of life as an author and military spouse.

Anyone want to help me work on that? Make it a nice juicy award with lots of publicity and a huge pot of prize money?

Hey, a girl can dream.

Until then, I need to get back to writing. :)



Brenda

Military Monday: Military Wives Choirs

Happy New Year!

The presents are open, the parties are over and the kids are back to school. Let me just say that you have not seen holiday celebration insanity until you've been closely associated with a military base! It was an amazing season, with concerts and parties and dinners and fun, but I'm so very glad to be getting back into a routine--and back to writing, blogging and a bit of normalcy.

Although I'm not a fan of New Year's resolutions, I am a huge fan of making goals and seeing the fruits of my hard work not only ripen but multiply...and one of those goals is about to be realized! It's a goal that has nothing to do with writing, and everything to do with being a military spouse.

After several meetings and emails and phone calls, much research and a whole lot of luck, this week will mark the inaugural meeting of the Canadian Military Wives Choir Comox! If all goes well, this amazing organization will be setting up shop on my local base, and I cannot wait to be a part of it.

Have you heard of the Military Wives Choir movement? It started just 5 years ago in 2010 when a group of wives (yes, just women) in the UK got together to sing and support one another while their husbands were deployed--a chance to learn, grow and get away from the daily stress of being on their own. The choir grew rapidly with the support of Gareth Malone as their choirmaster, and in  2011 they released their first single Wherever You Are, which shot to number one on the UK charts. There are now more than 80 choirs around the UK and the world.

The first Canadian Military Wives Choir started in 2013 in Ottawa, and the Comox choir will spread the movement to the west coast of Canada. From humble beginnings great things are accomplished. A chorister since my elementary school days, I've wanted to be a part of a choir like this since I saw the Wherever You Are video way back in 2011. So excited to sing with the wonderful people who support those in uniform--Military Wives!

Have you set a New Year's goal? Feel free to share it below!

Brenda

Military Monday: Remember

Lewis Ward Love
1895-1918

This man was my great uncle.

I never knew him. Little is known about his life, and even less is known about his death. He never married and had few connections. He died on a field in France, fighting a war that was nearing it's end.

If not for this picture, a few records, a headstone, and some handed-down stories, his very existence would be forgotten. He would fade away, like the thousands and thousands of World War I soldiers who signed up and sailed away, never to be seen again.

Remembering someone you never knew isn't an easy task.

It takes work to force our brains to focus on a picture of a stranger. To imagine how they lived, how they walked, the tone of their voice, their aspirations and dreams. We can find out about them through research, we can visit their gravestones. We can study the history books and ask questions of historians, but in the end, we still know very little.

But yet, it is our duty to understand that this man, like the other nameless thousands, was more than

Near Arras, France 2008

just a pawn in someone else's war. We have to fight to bring his face to mind. To really look at him and understand that whatever small part he had to play, he was there for us.

For you. For me. For our children, and their children.

Tomorrow the Last Post will play for my uncle and others like him who died in the pursuit of peace. The piper will play his lament. The silence will be held and we will bow our heads in a moment of reflection. We will somehow, in our own ways, bring their faces to mind, hear their names called and reflect on their short lives. It's not easy, but we must do it anyway. And we must teach our children to do it as well.

George Santayana is credited with the saying: "Those who do not remember the past are condemned to repeat it." It is of utmost importance that we make the effort to remember these unknown faces. Each and every one of them.

They shall grow not old, as we that are left grow old:
Age shall not weary them, nor the years condemn.
At the going down of the sun and in the morning
We will remember them. ~Robert Laurence Binyon

We will remember them.

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

Military Monday: A weekend of Heroes.

This past weekend I was fortunate enough to participate with my husband in a ceremony

Hanging with a hero-Stocky and I
before our flight in the Cessna

commemorating the great Second World War air battle known as the Battle of Britain. Being an ex-Air Force officer and and an RCAF wife, this ceremony is an important one, as it represents the first commitment of the RCAF to combat in WW II. I was part of a contingent which travelled north to Port Hardy--a small community on the northeastern shore of Vancouver Island to participate in the ceremony there. It was a wonderful weekend of fun, camaraderie, sight-seeing and seafood, paired with some serious moments of reflection. The local Air Force Association Squadron welcomed us with open arms, and much fun was had by all. I even had the opportunity to take a flight in a Cessna aircraft over the Queen Charlotte Strait at low enough altitude to see breaching humpback whales and several pods of orcas.

One of the members of our contingent was (and is) a real live Air Force hero. And even better, he was accompanied by his wife of 63 years...who I also think deserves the title of hero for her many years of service to our country behind the scenes.

James Francis "Stocky" Edwards, CM, DFC & Bar, DFM, CD (born June 5, 1921 – ) may not have fought in the Battle of Britain, but he joined the fighting soon afterward, and is one Canada's few remaining WW II flying aces. "Toni", born Alice Antonio, also has a military history, having worn the uniform in the '40s, working in both Communications and the nursing field. 

Young and dapper Stocky Edwards

Although I've only known them for a short time, Stocky and Toni Edwards have made a HUGE impression on me. Humble, kind, selfless and warm-hearted, they are the very essence of the perfect military couple. Seriously. They have been through it all. Postings far from home, long separations and deployments--they lived all of this before I was even a twinkle in my parents eyes.

Toni Edwards in her military days
(From elinorflorence.com).

But these two are so obviously in love, that they have persevered through all of their difficulties and are still living life to the fullest. They are so positive, so happy to be together that I can't help but think, I want what they have. They are true role models for today's military couples, having recognized the military lifestyle for what it was and embraced it--and they continue to embrace it as supporters to 19 Wing Comox and the RCAF. More than 60 years after their marriage, they attend as many of the local events as they can, arriving together and leaving arm in arm.


I'm so fortunate to have the opportunity to spend time with this lovely couple. They are true heroes.

You can find out more about the Battle of Britain on Wikipedia here, and about Stocky and Toni Edwards here and here.

* * *

Want to talk about the life of a 'dependent'? Do you cringe at the very mention of the word (as I occasionally do...part of why my book is so titled...)? Join me TOMORROW for a twitter chat at 12:00 PST, using #dependent to join in! Hope to hear from you!

Brenda