Thoughts on the military and the idea of work/life balance

I found a new blog yesterday, and have been eagerly reading some of her very thoughtful posts. While many have been bookmarked for later reference, and nearly all have made me think, one in particular has prompted me to think about how the military interacts with mine and my husband's true vocation, marriage.

Her post discusses a strange but true fact of career planning in mainstream America, that:

"The notion of consider the kind of daily life you would like to lead is absent from professional career planning as any of us experienced it. Not in college, not in high school, not back in grade school when we were drawing pictures of What We Will Be When We Grow Up. Sure, there's advice to consider the kind of work you want to do. But the notion of choosing a career path that is well-matched to the kind of life you want to lead outside work is completely foreign."

This has been an issue of some contention for Einstein and I from the very start. I, after all, longed for us to have careers that made family life the center of our lives, as it was for both our families growing up. Einstein, while aware that the military was in many ways incompatible with that vision, felt truly called to his profession, and both of us made what we felt was a mature, well-informed decision that he should stay in the military, that we should marry, and that he should plan on a full 20 year military career*. We had long discussions about the military, about moving around the country, about the moral doctrines of just war and the effects that the lifestyle would have on any sort of academic or library career that I would want to have. We discussed the effects on our future children of frequent moves, being far from family, etc. We have had a series of similar discussions at two other points since then: when he decided to be a pilot, rather than an engineer and when we had to submit his "dream sheet" of aircraft choices.

What we did not discuss, at all, was what our daily life would look like. Mostly, that was because we had no clue. Daily life in the military (at least in my experience) fluctuates so much dependent upon job, base, leadership, and a billion other factors as to be indescribable. Einstein's Air Force uncles and their wives did their best to prepare us, but neither of us had the slightest idea of what we were getting into.

I am not talking about deployments. Einstein entered the Air Force post-9/11. We both understood that deployments were a foregone conclusion. I am talking about the when-he-is-home time. I had no idea that his schedule would be so varied, so unpredictable, so dependent on weather and mechanical breakdowns and the often seemingly insane whims of leadership. No one told me about long hours spent at work studying material in the vault. Everyone focuses on moving and deployment, but no one that talked to me (and I talked to a LOT of people) thought to discuss the long, unpredictable hours, the lack of weekends and ability to take sick leave to care for a child and a million other little details that pervade daily life in the military.

As we constantly evaluate our disposition toward having children, Einstein and I have come to the uncomfortable realization that while we feel equipped to deal with the moves and being far from family, the daily grind of military life and deployments make us feel that our daily life isn't really suited to children. I am not saying that we will continue to try to avoid pregnancy; not at all! After all, our first commitment is to God and to each other, and that commitment includes the promise of children. But if we could go back in time, would we choose this life? Maybe not. At this point, though, we are committed* and so we try to find ways to make our daily life work as we want it with the circumstances we find ourselves in. And in that, I don't think we are that different from any family, military or not.

*I don't know if Einstein will stay in the full 20. With his commitment after pilot training (10 years) plus his time in service before pilot training, he will be near enough to his 20 by the time he can get out to make it a pretty ridiculous idea...but you never know.

NOTE: This is not meant to be a "Oh civilians have it so easy" post. I'm just trying to get some thoughts of my own out and see if I can make better sense of it by writing it out.

And then I found a new job

I haven't posted in almost two months because I got a new job.

Not only did I get a new job, but I crossed over to the dark side.

I am now working in an academic library. And I love it. I mean, really really really love it. I thought I would miss working with little kids. I thought I would miss all of the funny stories. I thought I would miss a lot of things. But I don't!

So I have been busy loving my new job. And Einstein and I have been getting used to a very new dynamic: I am working as much or more than he is. Between my commute time (around 2 hrs per day) and the fact that I have been working way more than 40 hrs a week while trying to get my head above water, things have shifted in our house. He is home by himself a lot. He is doing all of the grocery shopping (and doing a great job, I might add!).

Things are settled down a little now, though, so I just want to say that I have lots of ideas for posts, and I really am planning to write them. Soon.

Violent movies

Does anyone else have a hard time watching military movies? I can't watch military movies. Or really any violent movies. I do okay with unrealistic movies ("Stealth", anyone?) but anything that is remotely realistic, I just can't watch.

Which is unfortunate, since realistic, violent, military themed movies are some of Einstein's favorites. But I can't even be in the same room if one is on.

I also get sick of making excuses for why I don't want to watch things, whether we are over at someone's house or trying to pick a movie to go see in the theater. I just can't handle it. If I do end up watching something, I have nightmares for a week or so afterwards.

I don't really think I'm missing out on much by not watching violent movies...but my dislike of them coupled with his dislike of chick flicks really limits are movie viewing abilities.

I wish I worked here...

People always say this to me (meaning they want to work at the public library) and they always finish the sentence with "it is so quiet!".

The next time someone says that to me, I am laughing in their face.

Today, we called the cops once every hour for my entire shift. I am not kidding. The top 3 incidents (only 3- there were more, but these were the most interesting!):

1) A woman's purse was stolen. After hyperventilating, going into hysterics, yelling at the librarian who suggested she check her car to be sure she hadn't left her purse there, accusing 3 different people of taking it, and filing a police report, the woman went out to her car and found, you guessed it, her purse. (I would like to note that no one was angry with her, just glad she found her purse. We were also amused, I'm not going to lie.)

2) A man stumbles in, knocks over a display of books, He tells us "Hey ladies, how's it going, woops, that's the floor. No no I'm fine, just having a rough day!" Obviously, he was drunk. So after he stumbled to a chair and passed out, we called the cops. Who had to call an ambulance for him, he was that intoxicated. Yep.

3) Another drunk man FELL ASLEEP on the toilet in the man's restroom. I am not making this up. Since all of our male staff members were either at lunch or out sick, I and another librarian went in the bathroom, where we pounded on the stall and yelled to try to wake him up. Since that didn't work, we called the cops (this was the fifth time out of eight for the day!).

So yeah. And people wonder why we say they shouldn't let their kids run around the library alone if they are under 12? Really?

Dinner for one

Quick question:

Would you rather go out to eat by yourself or cook for yourself at home?

I hate cooking for myself. I did it by necessity when I was living by myself and broke. Now? Well, I don't technically live by myself. And we are not technically broke.

But I feel that same loathing rising in my heart, nonetheless. I keep making myself eggs, because that is all I can bring myself to cook. Luckily, our house is inconveniently located to nearly all local restaurants, both sit down and fast food, otherwise I would drop a lot of coin on dinners out. Unfortunately, I can also spend a few hours after work shopping and then head to dinner before driving all the way home. Which is also a lot of coin, but at least I got 2 nice sweaters, some curtains and a few candles out of the deal.

When I do this, I generally go to Buffalo Wild Wings (shut up, I like them). By myself. With a book. Because that is how I roll.

I always sit in the same section (the only one with decent lighting, so I can read my book). I always get the same waitress. And she always calls me honey/sweetie/etc which somehow makes me feel even lamer than being in what is essentially a sports bar reading a book.

But I do love their wings.

Ribbit?

I frequently greet patron's with a cheery "Hi!" followed by one of two questions:

"What can I help you with?"

or

"How are you today?" (this second one is especially appropriate when they have a stack of books ready to check out...I know how I can help them, I don't need to ask!)

Today, I asked a patron how she was, and got this answer:

"I'm finer than a frog's hair split three ways and sifted through silk."

I'm not going to lie, I didn't really know what to make of that response. She said it very very cheerfully, and obviously any such hair would have to be very, very, VERY fine, thus making her very happy. Except...frog's don't even have hair, do they? And if that's the case, then maybe she was trying to say that she was really unhappy?

I honestly don't know.

Einstein's take on eye makeup

I don't wear a lot of eye makeup. I mean, I wear it, but not a ton.

So today I was trying out a new look, in preparation for the squadron Christmas party. It is a "nighttime look" complete with eye makeup that could be termed "dramatic". In other words, its a heck of a lot darker than anything I normally wear.

When I walked out to show Einstein, he was on the phone. He made a face like he was sucking on a lemon and made a flapping gesture around his eyes. I took this to mean he didn't like the look. I went back in the bathroom and messed around some more. After he got off the phone I asked him what he didn't like.

"The eyes are too dark. I don't like it. Well, I guess its not too bad if you stand in the shadows."

Yes, dear, that was kind of the point. After I tried to explain this to him, he came out with this little gem:

"Well, you look like a fourteen year old at the New Moon premiere. Or a second lieutenant wife. Or a cougar. Or something."

Considering that not so long ago, I was a 2LT wife, I'm not really sure how to take that comment. But I am going to go crack open a bottle of makeup remover. And find some other eye makeup for the party.

Note to self

Try to remember that when Einstein is gone, you need to get out of the house and spend time with people.

And no, work doesn't count. It's great and all, but its not exactly restful.

One morning out of the house, and see how much better you feel??

It also helps to do dishes/laundry more than once every two weeks. Just saying.

/note to self

Murphy's law of TDY's strikes again

Maybe its because things just seem worse when he's gone, or maybe it really is Murphy out to get me, but as soon as he's TDY something always breaks, or some emergency crops up or whatever.

The worst part is that I then have to make decisions. I am normally a pretty go-to type of person. I don't mind making decisions.

But I also like talking those decisions over before I make them. With, you know, the person who 1) usually lives here and thus has a pretty good read on the situation; 2) is not prone to hysterics and 3) will be most impacted by any property damage/costs incurred/etc by whatever decision I make.

Unfortunately, I'm in the driver's seat with no one to bounce things off of.

If he doesn't like how things turn out, he can complain to the Air Force.

Variety is the spice of life

After pilot training ended and all of our friends scattered to the four winds, it has been interesting hearing how different life is in the different types of airframes. In the Air Force, each aircraft has its own quirks, but in general the lifestyle tends to be pretty similar for similar aircraft within a type (the "types" being heavies, fighters, bombers, special operations, and unmanned aerial systems).

I'm lucky to have friends in lots of different airframes (airframes is the Air Force's fancy way of saying airplanes), so I get to hear about a lot of different things. It is amazing how different the cultures are. At Einstein's pilot training base, pilots and the flying community were presented as a monolithic institution, but nothing could be further from the truth!

The differences aren't just in deployment length and frequency, either. The amount of institutionalized drinking, the types of mandatory fun, the atmosphere of the spouses groups- its all different. I love hearing stories about super formal spouses meetings at other bases (mostly because I don't have to attend them). I am glad that my husband doesn't have a roll call every single Friday night. I am envious of the exuberant, friendly welcomes that some of my friends have received from their spouses groups.

And mostly, I'm thankful for the chance to see how the rest of the Air Force lives. :-D

Want a library card?

I think everyone should have a library card.

I'll wait a moment for the shocked murmuring to settle down.

Seriously, though, what's better than free entertainment? Most libraries have books, DVD's, audiobooks, tons of online resources and more available to cardholders.

So go get a library card, but be prepared! Most libraries are going to make you show a photo ID and something else (a current utility bill, rental agreement, a piece of mail, car registration) that shows proof of residence. I have never worked at a public library that didn't require this second type of proof of residency.

I am often frustrated when military folks come in with their military IDs and expect that to be enough to get them a library card. Sorry, its not (at least, not at any library I've ever worked at- not saying it might not be elsewhere!). The military folks often get frustrated with me, too. I understand how they feel, and often feel like commiserating- after all, my brown ID card gets me everything else, from groceries to free legal assistance, so why can't it get me a library card?

So save yourself some hassle: get a library card, but be prepared before you get there; you'll save yourself (and the person behind the desk) some frustration.

**Note: if you're setting up a library account at the base library, be prepared with your ID, your sponsor's duty phone number and unit, and other relevant information!**

one thing I love about the air force

My husband is okay with making cookies.I'm not saying Navy/Marines/Army aren't...but...

I know that some branches (our friend T who is Navy) think that the AF is a little out there, but Einstein is making cookies for me right now, which is pretty sweet. And I'm with my sis, and talking about a million things. Seriously, though, I love our new location, and our base, and and and...my baby sister is here, which is better than anything.


nomad.

One is silver, the other is gold

One of my mother's favorite refrains when I was growing up was "Make new friends but keep the old; one is silver, but the other is gold." While I generally prefer silver to gold (and silver vs. gold insignia denotes the higher rank, haha) I definitely agree with the premise of what my mother was trying to say.

The problem is that I'm not sure how to put it into action. I'm fairly decent at making new friends, I think. I'm not like other people I've observed, who seem to make best friends with the first person they meet at a new base, and remain BFF's for the rest of their lives. Nonetheless, I do find it easy to be friendly with people, and from there, to develop real friendships as I get to know them better.

Unfortunately, I am horrible at long distance communication. This is ironic, since Einstein and I maintained a long distance relationship for 4 years, and still have what I would affectionately refer to as a "commuter" marriage. Although I've never struggled with calling/emailing him, I am horrible at it with the rest of the world.

My most frequent email correspondent is my mother-in-law, mostly because I would feel pretty guilty if I ignored her emails, and also because our communication styles mesh: short, to the point, with a little humor thrown in for good measure.

I am horrible at long, chatty emails, and I am even worse at the telephone. I loathe the phone. I prefer email and texting. I often let my phone go to voicemail and rarely return voicemails once I listen to them (which can take an embarrassingly long time). I star blogs in my reader to comment on them, and then never do it. I star emails for later reply, archive them, and forget all about them. I intend to send cards and letters and never do.I remind myself of birthdays and forget to call/text/facebook whatever.

While some friends are fine with this, others clearly hate me for not communicating more efficiently. Also, as more of my friends become long distance friends, it gets harder and harder to keep up. I wonder if my expectation are too high, or if I am just a crappy friend? I don't know. I do try, especially for people I know value certain types of communication, but there are some friends that I have grown apart from and I'm not sure if that is inevitable or if it is my fault.

I guess I just have to do the best I can, and try to find some way to balance the silver and the gold.

I know I shouldn't, but...

It is science fair time in our area.

That means lots and lots of parents coming in to check out science books.

For the most part they seem completely unrepentant that they are doing the research for their child. Some of them are a little more sheepish. No matter which camp they fall into, they feel the need to excuse themselves. I've heard a lot of variations on these refrains:

"Oh, I know I should make her do the research herself, but she is so busy with soccer/cheering/band/blah blah blah..."

"I'm just picking up books for him, he's doing all of the work on this project himself!"

"Do you have any good ideas for a fifth-grade level project?"

"I have no idea what type of science they are studying this year...does it matter?"

The winner, though, was a mother who came in this morning:

"I might as well pick the project. I'm going to do all the work anyway."

At least she's honest...

My poor garden

I managed to plant a little garden when we arrived at our new place. I am starting to think that I have a black thumb. Our planters on the balcony of our apartment rarely survived, but I was sure that with a whole backyard and tons more space to work with, I would be able to haul in some serious produce.

So far I have harvested 2 cherry tomatoes, several handfuls of basil and one bell pepper. Bugs, heat, too much rain and a million other things are working to kill my produce. And of course, the farmer's markets are all done for the season. I am ready to tear my hair out. I finally have a chest freezer (amazing!) and so I am thinking about trying to get in on a local organic vegetable delivery thing-a-ma-jig in the hopes that I will be able to freeze some extra produce before winter sets in.

Not that winter is exactly knocking on our door, here in the South, but my Minnesota upbringing is hard to argue with!

Trip down memory lane

The other night, Einstein and I were discussing a system for getting the dishes done.

I like to set up systems to do the dishes so that I can avoid having to actually do them.

I was reminiscing about my system for doing dishes in our old apartment, and Einstein mentioned that he couldn't picture our old apartment. Which surprised me, because I still think of our apartment as home. Based on past experience, it takes me at least six months to start to forget the details about wherever I lived before.

Other than my parents house and my college campus, I've never really gone back to places I've lived before. We have friends who really enjoy visiting old postings, driving past old houses, staying on base, eating in favorite restaurants, etc. I think I would enjoy it, too, but we haven't had a chance yet to go back and visit any of our old haunts.

Dancing with the stars

Einstein and I are taking dance lessons. I found a good deal on two months of lessons, and I told him that it was now or never.

When we first started dating, he showed up at closing time at the library where I worked, rolled down the windows on his car, pulled me close and started dancing. Between the streetlights, the fog and Old Blue Eyes on the radio, it was pretty darn romantic. Unfortunately, neither of us know how to dance.

Until now! We are learning, slowly but surely. We're having a really great time. We are going to miss a few of our classes because he is not exactly working what I would call 'regular' hours, but for the most part it has been a fun way to spend one evening a week.

All of this thinking about dancing made me realize how romantic Einstein was when we first got together. I usually end those types of thoughts with "He never does anything like that now!" but today, I was replaying our dance class, thinking about that first dance in the parking lot almost 8 years ago, and all I could think was how much I love him, and how much I appreciate all of the wonderful things he does and has done for me.

The next time I'm frustrated with him, I'm going to try to remember this feeling.

If I laughed out loud, at least I didn't snort

Most libraries put notes on patron records for a variety of different reasons. When you check out your books, the person behind the desk can usually see if you have some books being held behind the counter for you, if you have fines, if you have tried to convince us that you have returned 16 of our books that somehow miraculously are not on our shelves and are still checked out to you even though you turned them in, if you are allowed to check out extra books because you are a homeschooler, if your spouse is authorized to use your card, etc.

Most of these notes are, obviously, administrative in nature. The appropriate library protocol is to end the note with the date it is entered and your initials, so if someone later has a question about the note, they know who to talk to.

Someone at my new library, however, has a more colorful sense of humor. On the accounts of a select number of our regular patrons, they have written notes. Some of them are informative ("Will talk your ear off if you let him"). Some of them are endearing ("Sweetheart!"). My anonymous colleague does not put their initials or a date by these notes. I wish he/she did, because today I saw one that took the prize both for accuracy and for its ability to make me feel better.

I dealt with a particularly trying gentleman for nearly 10 minutes, arguing about due dates, renewal policies and why we don't allow cell phones in the library. He was quite sure that I was the stupidest human being ever to walk the face of the planet, and that he knew much more about libraries ("I've been coming to this library longer than you've been alive!" - which made me think: Why, yes, you have, and I've been working here two months and I know the policies better than you! How'd'ya like them apples?) I scanned his card and discovered this succinct, to the point note on his account:

"Ignorant."

I couldn't help it, I chuckled a little. Luckily, he didn't ask what I thought was funny.

A glimpse into the life I could have had

I have a new job in a nearby library! This is a very good thing, since it gets me out of the house and gives me another arena to focus on. I needed that, more than I did at the last place we lived. Things have been harder for me to adjust to, here, despite loving the location far more than our old one.

Anyway, my new job! I like it, its cool, and now that I'm settled in, hopefully I can get back to posting on a regular basis.

Yesterday I had a chance to really talk with one of my coworkers. She's about my age, and we have really similar dispositions, etc. And after talking with her for awhile, I realized that she is a lot like the person I would have been if I hadn't married Einstein. She's attached to her extended family, and after some exploring moved home to be near them. She loves her work and derives most of her satisfaction from it.

I could have been like that. If things had turned out differently. Instead, I am living this nomadic lifestyle, far from my family (and right now, from my friends, too, until I make new ones!). I don't mind it, because Einstein is worth it. But it was interesting to spend a conversation seeing what might have been, and seeing that despite all the draws (my coworker has a pretty sweet life!) I would still rather have Einstein's and my life, with all its hassles and inconveniences, than live a life that didn't include him.

Flexibility is the key to milspouse power

Tonight is not the first time that I have had to back out of plans at the last minute because Einstein's schedule changed.

It is not even the first time that I have had to call people to cancel an event that we were supposed to host.

So when he called to tell me to cancel our plans for tonight, I did. I didn't ask why, I merely said "No problem" and asked if he would be home tonight at all. While I wouldn't say that I'm a pro, I definitely know that his "work schedule" is a fluid thing, subject to change without notice. I've learned not to ask "why" because honestly, even when I can decode the acronyms, I rarely understand the reasoning. And, frankly, they "why" doesn't matter.

After I had called our guests to reschedule, stored the food, pulled out the wine I had started to chill, I stopped for a moment. I looked around the house, which while not exactly up to Martha Stewart standards, was clearly ready for a dinner party and I thought to myself: Taco Bell or McDonald's?

And then it struck me that maybe, just maybe, despite all the aspects of military life that I struggle with, I might be starting to get a handle on that key ingredient in the life of a military spouse: flexibility. Because honestly, despite a moments irritation at having to call my guests, I am fine with postponing our party. I'm fine with going to get some fast food, curling up on the couch to watch a chick flick, and going to bed alone. Not exactly what I had planned for the evening, but I'm actually okay with it. Two years ago, I definitely would have been way more put out by all of this.

So yeah. I'm going to co-opt one of the Air Force's favorite tag lines, and say (with some authority) that just as (or even more than) "flexibility is the key to airpower" , flexibility is the key to maintaining sanity in a military household.