For International Women's Day

Graphic from the UN Women Twitter Feed for International Women's Day

A few years ago I was at a evening party with my husband. It was like any military community party--we were at the home of a military couple, surrounded by other military couples. All of the couples at the party were the statistical norm, the man was the military member, and his wife, the female military spouse, was there with him. I'd known everyone there for all of maybe a year. As postings tend to do, we had been thrown together with people who worked with my hubby, and somehow I had built friendships with complete strangers.

I'm an extroverted introvert, and this particular party was just at the point in my life when I was starting to recognize that I can enjoy these events best by finding the people (generally women) I connect with, and not worrying so much about 'working the room'. In a small, loud house party, this is hard...and in this particular party, I found myself stuck, completely sober (as the DD) standing in the kitchen beside an older man who was there without his spouse and was already quite drunk.

With very little preamble he commenced a long and loud monologue, expounding on how good it was that I was there, supporting my husband at this party. And then, slurring his words as he spoke, he told me that every military leader he knows (himself included) has a supportive wife, and that was the secret of their success. The man succeeds because his wife keeps the home fires burning.

He was not wrong. I am one hundred percent sure that military leaders do better with a supportive, loving family beside them.

What rapidly turned the party from one that was enjoyable to one that I was ready to leave was the patronizing man-speak he used--completely oblivious to the fact that I had worn a uniform myself and was a professional in my own right--to let me know that I was in my place and should stay there.

I was the wife. He cared not one whit who I was, but was more than willing, as he swilled back another swig of whatever pompous drink he was swirling in his glass, to congratulate himself for being forward thinking (bravo! military spouse!) while he was, in fact, being just another chauvinistic man in a male-dominated world.

I listened, looking frantically for a way out of the conversation, nodding in the correct places (not that he would have noticed), and basically just taking his offensive tone until the opportunity arose to politely move away.

I was so angry. And so polite.

So politely angry.

And because I truly am a supportive spouse, I made no scene. I attempted to continue on with the party like I was fine. I drank my fancy soda and moved on.

It is time for me to stop being politely angry.

I love my husband. So very much. I've loved ninety percent of my journey as a military spouse. As mentioned in my previous blog, no one forced me to wear my many hats. I chose them. I chose to be a military spouse, and every step of my husband's military journey has been a partnership between us. I have profited in so many ways from the military lifestyle and I own it as part of what has made me who I am today.

But that man at that party is one of hundreds who've come along in my journey. I'm weary of the one-sided conversations at events, where the questions are focused on what my husband does and the conversation is basically mansplaining about the world I live, work and and breathe in...and have done so for most of my life. I'm weary of standing and smiling and listening politely while my insides are boiling with rage.

Thankfully there have also been many male friends at many events that were and are not that drunken jerk. If you are a man and have made it this far in this blog, thank you. On this International Women's Day I salute you for being open minded.

I challenge those few of you here to think about the small talk you make with female military spouses. Ask them about their work. Ask them about their aspirations. Discuss their leadership and their worlds. You'll find that they are fascinating. They are passionate and hard-working and worth your effort.

And for my female readers, military spouses and otherwise, you have every right to be angry--without politeness. It's time to challenge the misogyny. You deserve respect. Your service does help your spouse to succeed but the converse is also true--their support helps you to be successful in your own endeavors.

Being a military spouse does not give anyone the right to treat you without decency.

Be angry.

Demand respect.

And be proud of who you are.

Brenda

The Bar Code Tattoo and LFB Reviews

One of the nasty (or beneficial, depending how you look at it) things about following my military husband from place to place in what seems like a never-ending sequence of moves is that sometimes it takes a while to re-employ myself. Being a physiotherapist by trade, usually this is just a matter of filling out the paperwork for the local licensing board, putting my name out to a few places looking for PTs, and voila! I have a job. Often it's faster than I'd like it be, sometimes it's not. Being a Canadian in a different country, I need a little more than proof of my degree and experience. I need THE CARD. This card is not easy coming. In fact, it's been a bit of a challenge.

So, to make a long story short, five months into our new living arrangements, I remain unemployed.

Don't take this as I'm sitting around twiddling my thumbs. I'm not. I'm writing. I'm social-mediaing. I'm still spending several hours a week on Canadian volunteer positions I haven't given up. The social obligations of being married to my husband are not to be taken lightly. I drive a mean SUV in the high school kiss and go lanes, and am an avid supporter of extra-curriculars. I am the opposite of a twiddler.

But still, I need something to focus my days and the extra funds in our bank account do not hurt. So I wait.

In my quest to fill my days with unpaid meaningful things while awaiting the chance at doing paid meaningful things, I sort of fell into a volunteer position. I was dropping off books at the local library's donation box (by necessity, not by desire--there was literally no room on any of our bookshelves), and the lovely woman who was in charge of the Library Friends said they were looking for volunteers and gave me their info.

Books, organization, self-determined hours? What's not to love about that? My junior high school-day friends will remember the wonders of being a library helper (oh, the power of charging a late fee! Getting first dibs at new books! And first looks at the Scholastic book fair!) and my librarian friends (I have a surprising amount of friends with Library Science degrees) will appreciate the joy of putting a book on a shelf exactly where it belongs--well, in my current situation, where I THINK it belongs. Library Friends Bookshop is only slightly picky about things like alphabetization.

So starting two weeks ago, I walked into a room full of crazily disorganized donated books and began my journey as a Library Friend Bookshop (LFB) volunteer.

Now I will preface what I hope will be many blog posts by saying that I had no idea, when I signed up, that one of the perks was an honour system of hours worked = books. I just thought the act of organizing and selling donated books would provide me with a different view of the book world, introduce me to other bibliophiles, and perhaps expose me to books I had never noticed before, later to be signed out or purchased (very cheaply) for my personal reading pleasure. Imagine, doing something you enjoy, and getting 'paid' in something else you enjoy?

There are just SO. MANY. BOOKS. What is a girl to do, but read them? So I've vowed to bring home a few a week (and likely return them, as there is still no room on my bookshelves) and challenge myself to read differently. To read books I wouldn't normally pick up. To expand my brain, while waiting for meaningful employment.

I figure the least I can do is tell you my thoughts about them.

And so...thus begins the LFB Reviews*.

Week 1
The Bar Code Tattoo 
YA Dystopian
by Suzanne Weyn

It's no secret that the world is a wee bit shaken up right now. 2016 was a year of bizarreness. And this week is, without a doubt, going to go down in history. How that history will play out has been wildly speculated, and I am not the one to discuss the pros and cons of any side. But the last few months have felt mildly dystopian. And with one of my yet-unsold finished manuscripts dealing with similar world-gone-crazy scenarios, this book jumped out at me on the shelf as I was trying to cram two Harry Potter books and a Maze Runner book in beside it. I've seen it before, and was curious...but not curious enough to buy it. Yet there it was, in the pile of crazy mixed up MG and YA. Not hugely out of my comfort zone, but not something I would normally have purchased. And then, SURPRISE!, it jumped into my pile and came home with me.

I wish I could say I loved this book. I really do. I wanted to love this book, I wanted it to be the first of a love affair with Library Friends Bookshop literature. The premise is so real right now--adults (over 17) being forced to be tattooed and DNA typed and having their entire lives dictated by said tattoo and the company which administered it. It could happen. It's a strong storyline.

But the book got mired in relationships and when the main character, Kayla, started having visions and speaking telepathically with a mystical leader of the Resistance. At that point, I found it increasingly hard to follow. And it seemed less and less realistic. There were some deep questions--Should our genetics dictate our employment, our livelihood, our existence? And some scary possibilities, including that of a society which 'euthanizes' its elderly. Frightening and thought provoking. But the writing did not highlight those issues, and sadly I had to fight to finish the book.

On a scale of Total Keeper (10) to Back to the LFB Post-Haste (1)?

I give it a 4/10. I'll take this one back for someone else to enjoy.

Enjoy the week, folks. From where I sit, it's bound to be a doozy.

Brenda

*Please note,  the views on this blog are my own, and do not, in any way, indicate opinions of the Library Friends, the Canadian Forces or anyone. They are mine. Also note, I tend to be perfectly awful at regular blogging. You probably know this already, but I warn you in advance that there will likely be weeks I miss. Maybe months I miss. So I apologize in advance.

Book Release! All the Way Home

Adult romance BY KIM MILLS

So a while back (five years ago? Maybe more?) I started following a sassy Canadian soldier's wife (@reccewife) on Twitter. She shot from the hip, and told it like it was, and I liked her style. Her resolution to treat people to dinner while her husband was deployed was intriguing. And her blog posts were poignant and real.

Fast forward a few years, and Kim and I have become virtual friends through several other platforms, including a group of Canadian military bloggers on Facebook. She recently MC'd a national event to mark the 25th Anniversary of Canadian Military Family Services. And her name has been mentioned more than once since I arrived in the US--she had spoken the year before to Canadian military families here in the US National Capitol region.

While managing a busy family, a well-visited blog, speaking engagements and a meaningful life as a military spouse, Kim has written a novel--a Canadian military romance novel, to be exact. And I'm so happy to be able to support her as she releases it to the public today. In her words:

"I wrote this book because I wanted to read a story about average Canadian combat soldiers and the people who loved them during the war in Afghanistan.

I’m hoping that maybe there’s a few others out there who were looking for stories like that, too." 

Kim's bio:

Kim Mills intended to grow up to be a psychologist with a loft apartment and 3 cats. Instead she dropped out of college and married a teenage soldier and had babies. No one ever asks her to speak on career day.

After working and volunteering in Social Services for years, Kim began writing in 2011 on what is now the Canadian military family blog She is Fierce. Somehow, that led her here. No one is more surprised than she is.

You can find Kim with the childhood sweetheart she's been married to for over 15 years, along with her 3 kids and their border collie Trooper, making home wherever the army sends them.

ALL THE WAY HOME is book one of a series of books (The Way Home Series), and today is it's Book Birthday! 

More about the book (from Amazon):

Juliette has been walking through life broken and hurting for years, always relying on her friend Tavish to be there for her when she needs him. As soon as he met her, Tavish knew he would do anything for her, that is, until he enlists in the infantry and leaves town, and possibly Juliette, for good.
Soon the events of 9/11 change everything, and an upcoming deployment to Afghanistan prompts him to reconnect with Juliette 5 years later. Despite the time apart she soon finds herself leaning on him again as their reunion leads to something much more. That’s when tragedy strikes during his deployment, and Tavish comes home shattered. Is Juliette strong enough to offer him the support he has always given her? Will it be enough for both of them to find their way home?

All The Way Home is a Canadian-based military love story, the first in the Way Home series but is a stand-alone with it's own HEA. 

This book is intended for audiences 18+. For those dealing with combat related PTSD, some scenes may be triggering. 


You can purchase ALL THE WAY HOME on Amazon. And find out more about Kim on her blog: She is Fierce which is well worth a read.

Congratulations Kim!

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.

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

15 Seconds

I've been more of a lurker on social media lately, partially because I've been focusing on my latest manuscript, partially because my children have been on spring break...and partially because a lot of what I've seen lately just makes me angry. There's a whole lot of crazy out there, and crazy seems to find it's voice on the anonymous forum of the internet. Un-researched medical claims, sensational news articles and blog posts designed solely for the purpose of annoying and creating a stir. Or thoughtless comments that blow things way out of proportion.

You know what I mean...the anti-vaxxer who refuses--loudly--to admit plain science and then causes a potentially deadly measles outbreak. The celebrity who publicly bashes another because his or her favourite didn't win an award. The president/prime minister haters and lovers and the gun toters/gun haters and all of the others who apparently believe in their causes enough to use foul language, utter threats and just be downright mean.

Does anyone else out there feel that things are rapidly spiralling out of control?

I grew up in an environment where your words--however they were brought into this world--had consequences. I live in a society where honour and integrity are not just buzz words. They are a matter of life and death. I'm trying to teach my children that what they do and what they say matters, and our words can have profound influence on others around us.

So when I pop on my Mac to check on what's going on in the world, it scares the heck out of me to see the lack of integrity shown on a daily basis on my screen.

Don't get me wrong. I love my social media. I think it is a great tool. I love the convenience. I love the speed at which I can find out things--is there traffic on the highway? What's the weather? How is my cousin in France? When is that movie coming out and is it worth seeing?

But rapidity of social media response time often fogs the integrity of the response itself. It's sooooo easy to just post that knee-jerk comment. So simple to post a nasty come-back. Just a couple of key-strokes and that opinionated tweet is out there, ready to wreak havoc on the world. Piece of cake, right?

But a mere 140 characters can have LIFE CHANGING effects.

Ask Justine Sacco, who posted a simple tweet that ruined her life. Or Alicia Ann Lynch who posted a photo of her somewhat-tasteless halloween costume. Perhaps if they had just taken 15 seconds to consider the consequences of their posts, their lives would be different now. And perhaps if the shamers had taken a few seconds and actually thought that there was a real person on the other end of all this...well maybe things would be different.

There are some lights out there, though...beacons in the dismal world of thoughtless posting. I particularly like Emma Watson, who is trying to make a better world, one step at a time. Or Ellen DeGeneres, who seems to have a genuinely good heart, and uses her fame for the better of others.

Do you have a process by which you pre-check your social media posts?

Or are you a fly-by-the-seat-of-your-pants poster? I'm an agonizer. I write something. I re-read it. I read it again, I wonder what it will sound like to others. Will what I have written be construed as something else? Will it affect a friend or loved one? Will it negatively affect my career? I admittedly suck at twitter chat forums because it takes me so long to get my thoughts down accurately. Heck, this fifteen paragraph blog has taken me five hours to write.

Maybe I'm just old fashioned. But I'd rather take 15 seconds to reread a few words than post a tweet that could harm myself or someone I love.

Or better yet, I'll just not post anything at all.

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: 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

Military Monday: Posting Phase Eight: The Insanity.

Not one, not two, but FIVE trucks
just outside of our house...

So I was all happily writing away at my lovely posting phases and making everything sound all organized and perfect when...BOOM. It happened. The INSANITY. Pre-pack day, pack day, load day, clean day, drive away day and suddenly I'm on the other side of the country, launching my book, shaking my head and wondering what the heck happened.

Rory the horse. Not happy with his can on wheels.

This is what it is to have a military move. Insanity. No amount of planning can prepare you for the weeks of chaos and restaurant meals and unexpected car repairs. No one can give you a list that gets you ready to put everything you own on someone else's truck (or in our case, three trucks...) and watch it drive away. And no magic number of previous moves can prepare you for that next move...because just when you think you've seen it all, something else gets thrown in to shake things up a bit.  Like having your books arrive but no shelving units. Or the lovely metal-scraping sound that appeared as we hauled our horse trailer (with horse) over some of the steepest roads in the country.

Drive thru ice-cream place in rural Ontario,
Rory was a hit.

This was our first time moving with a horse, and it added a whole new meaning to drive-thru restaurants and Bed and Breakfast lodging. 'Is hay included in the price?'--and-- 'Indoor or outdoor paddocks?' were not questions we previously had encountered when booking a move. And you think your toddler doesn't want to get in the car? Try loading a thousand pound horse that's got a bruise on his behind and is leaving his new-found best friends. Can you blame him for not wanting to walk into a non-air-conditioned can on wheels?

Bed, Bale and Breakfast in Kenaston,
Saskatchewan

Add 5000km of driving, several hair-raising turns with unthinkable cliffs on the other side, a state-of-emergency due to flooding, tornado warnings, seriously bad mosquitos (Manitoba really does have the worlds biggest mosquitos), all with three tall teens in the back seat of a pick up truck. And don't forget a hike up a mountain creek, a gondola ride to the top of a Mountain, some wonderful meals, some okay meals, some truly scary pit-stops and then end with a ferry ride...that brings us to the other side of a truly massive continent...where our house was not quite ready for us.

Hoodoos in Drumheller

A few more hotel nights, unload day (x3), unpack day (x1), a clothes dryer fire, a sewage back up in the basement (which was full of boxes), more hotel days, DEPENDENT's book launch, several formal military events (including my husband's Change of Command ceremony) and many other crazy moments that I won't mention here, and you get a brief taste of the past month.

Insanity.

And would I have it any other way?

Not a chance!

Am I crazy? Quite possibly.

But in amongst those mad moments were some truly wonderful family adventures. We stood at the top of a mountain. We went as far west as the kids have EVER been. We saw dinosaur bones, a live moose, the Terry Fox Memorial, and real hoo doos. We mets some amazing people with open arms and kind hearts. We giggled. And laughed, and joked and explored. We learned that generosity lives not in big bank accounts but in small gestures of friendship. And we did it together.

Sulfur Mountain in Banff

Move in day...

We're here! Dipping my feet in the Pacific. 

 What's insane is how well it all went. It's insane that we are here, that we drove that far with five people in a pickup truck towing a horse, and we're still talking to one another. It's insane that our travel costs were covered by the military--not all of them, but most. And it's so insane that we live here...in this beautiful town on this beautiful island. Yes, we've still got boxes artfully hidden under tablecloths and crammed in corners, and yes I'm sick of disorganization, mess and chaos...but we made it.

Together.

And that is what it's all about.


Brenda

More posting phases: Seven (look for more at the bottom of the link!)

Posting Phase Six: Season of See You Later

Today I begin the long Season of See-You-Laters.

I say season, because goodbye doesn't happen all at once (as most frequent-movers know). It's a process. Sometimes painful (my twelve-year-old's bestest, bestest friends EVER), sometimes celebratory (the twit at the end of the road that tried to hit my dog every time he drove by--yeah, wasn't sad to say goodbye to him on that posting...), each goodbye has a story. Some people I'll remember. Some people I won't. Some friends will be life-long, and some I'll never hear from again.

The process starts long before I pull out of my driveway for the final time. We haven't even gone on a house hunting trip and it's already started here. Saying goodbye starts when I realize I'm not going to be in that part of town again, when I look at my calendar and do a double-take at the surprising lack of time before our drive-out date. I start cramming in coffee dates and dinner parties and last minute meet-ups--slowly at first... But each time I see a colleague, a co-worker, a friend... I recognize it might be your last.

Goodbye is hard.

Hence the See-You-Later.

You see, after twenty-plus years of military friendships, it becomes obvious that goodbye is rarely forever. And with today's social media, goodbye is becoming almost unnecessary. I can Facebook with friends I haven't seen in twenty years and tweet with people from ten different postings. And sooner or later, we'll be posted back together again, so why bother with goodbye?

I prefer 'see ya soon', or 'until next time'. Who knows what will happen?

But today is my last day of work at my day job as a physiotherapist at a long term care facility. A job I absolutely love. I've only been there four months, but I wish, for once, I could stay. It's a perfect complement to my writing career, it pays well, and I get to spend time with amazing people...some of whom are nearly a century old.

I hope 'see you later' will be the right call today, while I'm finishing up paperwork and tidying up my space, because I'd love to see some of these elderly ladies again. They have such wonderful stories. Such interesting histories. Sadly, they don't tweet, and they don't Facebook.

I've still got lots of time in this house/posting (thank goodness!) and I've got lots of time to finish my final coffee dates. I'll be back in this area again, so I'll say see-you-later, and I'll hope that our paths cross again.

Brenda


Like Posting Phases? More to come! Check out the first five here:

Posting Phase Five: The Long Wait

Posting Phase Four: The Stash and Dash

Posting Phase Three: Orders!

Posting Phase Two: Closet Clean-out

Posting Phase One: Real Estate Research

On Living in the Moment

As I write this, I'm sitting here on my newly-installed porch swing, looking over my just-constructed flower garden underneath new hanging baskets and beside the veggie garden I planted last weekend. We had this farm (yes, farm) built (yes, built) two and a half years ago. We built a barn, fenced in four paddocks, did all of our own landscaping including raised bed vegetable gardens.

We will be moving across the continent in less than two months. 

I can hear what you're thinking. Flower gardens? Veggies? Porch swings? With two months to go in your house? Why, on God's green earth, would you put yourself through that in a temporary home? 

My friend may have brought up this very point a week or so ago when I was showing off my beautiful porch swing. Also a military spouse, she understands the tentative nature of our existence. She didn't quite imply that I was insane. Okay, maybe a little bit. But she stopped short of giving me the coo-coo swirly finger--hence why we're still friends.

Anyway, my reply to her was this:

Because it makes me happy. 

Incredibly happy. I'm sitting here basking in sunshine and birdsong and writing to you and my heart may just explode from pure bliss. My dog is lying by my feet and I've got an iced coffee and the breeze is blowing the hanging baskets and this moment right now couldn't be more perfect. 

I'm pretty much in heaven.

Yes, we live a chaotic life. Yes, it seems like a huge waste of energy for such a brief period of time. Yes, we'll have to take the bloody swing down in a month and a half and the veggies will more than likely go into someone else's mouth. 

But as Shelby says in Steel Magnolias...I'd rather have thirty minutes of wonderful than a lifetime of nothing special. And in the big scheme of things often thirty minutes is all we have in a place like this. So if it takes busting my butt with a trailer load of dirt, or my amazing hubby spending a few hours with a screwdriver and a ladder peering through metal soffit with a flashlight... well, that's what we've got to do. 

Enjoying what you have is up to you. No one else can create your happiness. And as my BFF and I discussed last week, it may take a little elbow grease and a little sweat, but it is sooooo worth it. I would not have it any other way.

Carpe Diem. Seize the day. Live in the moment.

You'll be happy you did. 

Brenda

Military Monday: Posting Phase Five

PHASE FIVE: THE LONG WAIT

Everything is ready. The house is clean. The plans are made. The signs are up and our stash and dash is perfected.

But the phone doesn't ring.

The housing market slumps.

And that highly anticipated rapid and insane house sale doesn't happen.

Still waiting...

Sadly, not every house sale goes as planned. No matter how much time you spend thinking about your listing price, no matter how magazine-perfect your rooms are, no matter how many bells and whistles your feature sheet cites, sometimes the right buyer just doesn't materialize. We've been on both ends of the spectrum. We've had a week-long insane buyer's bonanza and we've had the six-month long haul--complete with hubby moving on ahead of us while I try to keep my brain from exploding in a spotless house with three kids and two pets.

Sometimes there's no magic to it. You list aggressively, you clean like Cinderella, and you wait. You lower your price, offer incentives...and you wait.

Patience is a virtue I lack.

There are lots of tips out there for ensuring a quick house sale (like this one from HGTV). But once you've exhausted yourself cleaning out closets and mopping floors and folding your bathroom towels just so, all there is left to do is hang in there and hope and pray for the best. You still have to live in your house.

Unfortunately so does the rest of your family.

Ah, the joys of military posting-hood.


Brenda

Want to read more Posting Phases?  Check them out!

Posting Phase Four: The Stash and Dash

Posting Phase Three: Orders!

Posting Phase Two: Closet Clean-out

Posting Phase One: Real Estate Research

Posting Phase Four: The Stash and Dash

The sign is up on the lawn. You've cleaned and buffed and polished sorted and tidied and fooled yourself into believing the house is ready for showings. But you still live in your house. Your kids still make messes. You still have to shower in your bathroom. Your pets still track in mud and bits of grass. And that coffee is still an essential start to your day.

Then the phone call you've been anticipating (and dreading) comes. A showing! And can these lovely potential home-buyers come in TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES?

Gaaaaaaah! NOOOOOOOOOOO!


Thus begins the phase known as STASH AND DASH. You run around madly with a vacuum in one hand, a damp cloth in the other and dusting rags attached to your feet... while canned cinnamon buns cook at warp speed in the oven. Dirty socks get stashed in closets, pj's under pillows, toothbrushes jammed in drawers, today's breakfast dishes unceremoniously dumped in dishwashers(on top of clean dishes, of course). Items of all shapes and sizes get stuffed in your pockets--coins, pet-hair, hay, toy cars, loose threads, buttons, tissues, dryer sheets, paperclips, pens, pencils...the list goes on and on. Time accelerates until there's nothing to do but give up, hope for the best, and (pets and toddlers in tow) jump into the car and leave.

Inevitably, this is also the time when said pet decides to vomit on your just cleaned carpet. Or your toddler dumps her entire lego collection on the floor. Or a glass drops on the floor, shattering and spewing shards in forty directions, while also denting your not-so-pristene hardwood. Or your basement floods, a flock of geese flies by and spatters your house with ick, the cat runs off with a carpet-thread pulling behind her, the cupboard door falls off of it's hinges or the toilet clogs.

And in the military? This is usually when your husband/spouse takes off for a four month course in the Caribbean, and you are doing it all by yourself while he drinks rum from a coconut in a tiki bar on the beach.

I remember one house showing where the home-buyers showed up half an hour early, and my then eighteen-month-old exploded with the stinkiest poop on the planet just as I noticed them walking in our back yard. Yeah. The aftereffects were smelled for weeks afterwords. Needless to say, our house didn't sell that day.

It's a crazy time, selling a house. You'd think after eight moves I'd have perfected the art of the stash and dash, but every house is different. It's certainly never dull!

I'm sure you have a great house-selling story... ever have someone come into your house unannounced? Have a household disaster the day before a second shown? What's your worst (or best) stash and dash? tell us about it below!

~Brenda

Check out my other Posting Phase Blogs!

Posting Phase One: Real Estate Research

Posting Phase Two: The Closet Clean-Out

Posting Phase Three: Orders!

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: The Changing Nature of Time

Of course we all know that time is fluid, sometimes speeding up, sometimes slowing down. And no where is this more true than in a military family.

Imagine looking ahead to a deployment. Be it six months, nine months, a year... even two weeks. The time between now and when your spouse leaves is like a speeding freight train coming right at you. The closer it gets, the faster it seems to go, until it smacks you right in the face and then keeps going, running over you and leaving you stunned and a tiny bit lost.

Yet after they leave, time stretches out. Long, trudgy days of the same routine over and over again with no variety. Stress. No news. No bright lights in the near future to focus on. Their few phone calls? Like a single breath--in, out and it's over. Two weeks of leave in the middle? A huge wait for a heart beat of time.

Time expands and contracts in weird ways for military families. Sometimes there's not enough time. Some time there's too much.

Take my family for example. We're still waiting for that lovely piece of paper (or in today's day and age an email) that says: You're Posted! Get Going! It seems like we've been waiting forever for that little tidbit. While you're waiting you can't do anything, just watch those beautifully perfect homes on MLS appear and disappear like smoke.

But when it comes? Chaos. Five million things need to be done, all at once, that can't be done without the official OK. (see my Posting Phases posts...) Houses cleaned and dejunked and listed, house hunting trips booked, schools notified, plans made, and time becomes an unstoppable wave that builds and builds until it crashes down and you are driving away from three years of friendships and home-building into a world of unknowns and adventure.


Call me strange, but I actually like the changing nature of time. It's something I can count on--even if that's a bit of an oxymoron. It's consistently changing. One of the expecteds in my life. Those long days of waiting are great for just...existing. Reading a book, finding something fun to do with the kids, letting the housework slide and watching a movie. Sometimes it takes work to enjoy the slow-downs. Sometimes it's really hard to see the positives when there are still three months of single parenting ahead. But what choice do we have? Time keeps passing. I use slow days to recharge my batteries.

And the speedy days? Those are fun in a whole different way. Riding the wave is like careening down a ski-hill at top speed, reacting to the trees as they pop up in front of you. It's scary and exciting and sometimes it's really hard to put on the brakes on enjoy the moment. Too many things to do and too little time to do them in means you have to prioritize. Breathe. Look those little memories in your brain to take them out when things slow down again.

Because it's guaranteed that the minute you get comfortable with the speed of time it will change again. 

In the words of the old adage...This too shall pass. So why not enjoy it before it does?


Brenda