It’s been a full-moon, thunderstorm kind of month around here.
If it can go wrong, it has. And normally all at the same time.
It’s also not just me. My fellow military spouses are experiencing some real low lows this spring, too.
Broken appliances. Speeding tickets. Family emergencies. Car accidents. Power outages. Sick kids. Migraines. Houses that seem to keep getting messier.
They are plaguing everyone.
And it was at one such desperate coffee date with friends – our kids milling about and tossing God knows what at each other, but who cares because they were happy – that we all discussed it.
How downright bad it had been.
Comically bad, in fact.
And we got to thinking.
On submarines, our sailors earn “fish,” or “dolphins.” Basically, it’s their submarine warfare pin that tells everyone they did a bunch of work and evaluations and went before a board and were deemed submarine-warfare qualified. It makes sure they are ready to do the work that lies ahead of them.
But no one makes sure the spouses are qualified for this life. No one tests us, preps us for what the years of coming and going and little to no contact will look like.
Can you imagine some poor new Navy wife, nervously perched in front of a board of seasoned spouses, sweating profusely as they fired off questions like, "It’s 2 a.m., and you hear a loud bang. Another appliance has exploded. Just then your 3-year-old, startled by the noise, climbs into bed and vomits on you. What is your next step?”
Or “Your new baby has a crucial doctor’s appointment on the Navy base, and you turn around to realize your dog has eaten your power of attorney and your military ID. Your ombudsman is out of town and can’t be reached. Who do you contact next?”
I’m frankly not sure I could pass that kind of board, even after all these years of fighting some of those same fights.
In fact, I’m not sure there’s any real way to train for this life.
It’s true trial by fire. And too bad, too.
And even if I had some kind of military spouse warfare pin on my stained Mom T-shirt, it probably wouldn’t mean much.
Stuff would still break; kids would still vomit, and deployments would still suck.
So here’s to hoping that some months are better than others.
