Author: Samantha

I'm a 29 year old mother of two, new to the world of being a SAHM. I'm originally from outside DC and have been married to my husband for just over two years, but together for more than four. I have a degree in English which means I know what words to use and I use them a lot. I try to be crafty and have an organized house, but those things don't always mesh together very well.

Published on August 1, 2012 by Samantha

The Sergeant Major’s Wife

In 1951, my grandmother went on a blind date. Six weeks later, they got married. He was a Corporal in the US Army and she was a girl from Philly. Soon, they moved to Ft. Eustis Virginia and then to Ft. Belvoir. Over the next thirty years, they bounced between Ft. Belvoir and Idaho and Alaska. My grandfather, who we called Pop, was in nuclear power (after a brief stint as a cook because they had one day on/two day off schedules) was deployed to Korea during the Korean War, but that was over when my grandparents met. He didn’t deploy while they were married, and the longest they were apart was when he went to Camp Century, Greenland for a six month stint in the city under the ice.

My grandpa was in the Army for thirty years, and eventually made it all the way to Sergeant Major – with only a few discipline issues (there’s a rumor from when he was in Korea that one of his soldiers was causing problems in town and Pop took a vehicle to get him. However, instead of driving the soldier back to base, Pop made him run in front. Apparently, that’ll cause you to lose a rank.). At one point, Gram was the head spouse of the NCO Wives club, but mostly she focused on raising her three children.

When I met my now husband, my grandma was one of the first people I realized I could turn to. She had done the military spouse game, done it well, and for a long time. She answered all the questions I had that I wasn’t prepared to have. She was also the first person to tell me to make sure my trash cans were empty when the movers came or they would pack my trash. (I only forgot one trash can, but she was totally right.) I was very anxious about what was going to happen being married to a career military man, but my grandma calmed me down. I still call her to ask her questions.

My grandfather passed away in 1992 after 41 years of marriage. I was nine years old. My grandma is still a good Army wife – she never leaves the house without being totally put together, she always has drinks and snacks ready in case people drop by, and has her pearls and Chanel No. 5 ready at all times.

At my wedding shower, my grandma gave me a Christmas ornament of two cardinals. I was confused, but she said that when I was about five, I begged my mom to let me buy the ornament for her and Pop. They loved it, and had kept it through several moves. Now she was giving it to me, for my Christmas tree with my new family. Every Christmas when I unwrap that ornament, and hang it on our tree, it gives me hope that my marriage and my ‘career’ as a military spouse will be just as long and happy as hers.

Published on August 1, 2012 by Samantha

Help!

I recently had some family visit and spent a lot of time with them. It was great for them to meet my newest daughter, and wonderful for my oldest daughter to see family again. My husband couldn’t take off from work for the first week of their visit, so it was just the girls and I driving to Kahala every day for the entire day. It was very interesting to watch my family trying to jump to my assistance whenever I tried to do anything

It was about the third day before one of my aunts stopped mid action (I can’t remember if she was changing the baby, making the oldest a sandwich, or helping me get stuff to the car) and said, “Man, it’s a good thing you are so independent! I never would have been this calm and collected alone with two babies!”

That stopped me. I mean, I knew I was independent – I always have been. But I hadn’t thought about it in relation to being a parent.

I did notice that after the aquarium when my uncle and cousin tried to help me load the girls and their stuff back in the car, I did it myself. And every time we arrived at and left the house they were renting, I was greeted and escorted by people asking what they could do despite my protests of being able to get everything. When we hiked Makapu’u, my uncle took the stroller amid my complaints and my aunts walked with Cailin.

It was very odd.

It’s not that my husband isn’t helpful – believe me, he’s great. He does everything he can to help me with the girls. But he’s so busy, works such long hours, and is randomly gone on trips that he’s just not here much. So when the girls and I go places, normally it is just me and the girls. I’m the one who has to make sure that we have everything needed for both of them – diapers, wipes, change of clothes, soccer ball, ballet outfit, bathing suit, sunscreen, etc. I have to make it fit nicely in the car. I’m the one who has to lug all that wherever we are going. I have to get it all out of the car and to wherever in one trip. While it’s only been two months that I’ve been doing this with Madelyn, I’ve been playing this game with Cailin for quite some time.

And I’m used to it. I got it. I CAN DO IT.

Apparently, not only can I do it, but I don’t accept help gracefully. My uncle at one point said something along the lines of, ‘Let me put the damn stroller in the car before I get yelled at for not helping you again!’ Oh. Ok. It’s not a bad thing to accept help – I am just not used to it.

Which left me wondering – was it so hard for me because I’m just very independent, or because I’m married to a Marine? What do you think?

Published on July 25, 2012 by Samantha

(Sorority) Sisters For Life

I have a confession.

In college…I paid for my friends.

That’s right. I was in a sorority.

But you know what? To this day, they are some of the best friends I have. Joining my sorority was one of the best choices I ever made.

I remember before I rushed thinking that sorority girls were all the same. Vapid, shallow, fake, etc. I could go on. And then my roommate (who I was randomly paired with) and her sisters convinced me to rush. I agreed, mostly just to shut them up and get them to leave me alone! But somewhere during rush, I found myself having fun. So I pledged.

I found myself among quite the group of women – lacrosse players, cheerleaders, the student body president and vice president, a few homecoming queens, a beauty pageant girl or two, girls who never wore makeup, and some of the smartest girls at our school. I was very surprised. Even with such an assorted group of women, I still felt like I wasn’t going to fit in.

I was hesitant at first, going to events but staying to myself, only really talking to the few girls I already knew. But I kept going to things. Slowly, I realized I was talking to more girls each event. Suddenly, we were getting ready for rush and I was one of the sisters welcoming the new girls. I had become part of this amazing group.

And they were an amazing group. We cheered each other on at sports games, made sure we voted when the Student Government asked us to, came together to help fly a sister home when her grandfather suddenly passed away, and rallied when a sister had skin cancer – she had to have a cancerous mole on her face removed and the bandaging made her feel self conscious. So all 50 of us wore hot pink Barbie band aids on our faces too.

For me, I had sisters volunteering to come to the hospital with me when my grandma had a stroke. Then, years later, after we graduated, sisters offered to come to her funeral when she passed away. They also made a donation to the Alzheimer’s Association in her name and sent my family a giant peace lily. I had sisters come to my bridal shower, then drive hours to come to my wedding. These girls danced with my daughter at the wedding, but only after making sure everything was taken care of. They mailed presents for my baby shower, and check on my newborn on a regular basis.

One of my sisters moved to Hawaii for six months for a job recently, and though we hadn’t talked in years, we picked up right where we left off. This girl was not mad that she wasn’t invited to my wedding, and came to my baby shower with tons of lion presents for my little girl. (The lion is our mascot.) She understands me in a way that my friends here just don’t – she knew me before I was wife and mom. And she loves reminding me of this.

I know friends who aren’t sisters do the same things, but for me, having that extra bond has made such a difference. So yes, I paid for my friends. But they are worth so much more than what I spent.

Published on July 23, 2012 by Samantha

Fear

My husband and I do not have the typical ‘how we met and fell in love happily ever after’ story. It’s a good one, but that’s for a different blog. The part you need to know now is that when we met in February of 2008, he had full custody of his 16 month old daughter, Cailin. In July, they told him he was going to deploy again right after Christmas.

I had always known I’d have to say goodbye to him – he’s a Marine, we’re at war. Got it. I NEVER thought about saying goodbye to the goofy little girl I had also fallen in love with. It took me a few weeks to bring it up to him, but I asked if when he deployed, I could take her. We went back and forth for a while – I mean, we’d been dating less than a year. Who in their right mind would do that?

Turns out, he would.

So we started getting ready. He got all the POAs set up (I had never even HEARD of a POA before this!), we moved her stuff to my house, and off he went. I thought I was prepared.

Two days later, we were visiting my mom at her physical therapy session. Cailin was running around, having a fabulous time playing on some of the equipment. I was a little nervous, but she was doing fine. Then I asked her to get her jacket because we had to leave.

And she tripped.

And fell.

FACE FIRST IN TO A MIRROR.

No, I am not kidding. I obviously started freaking out. My boyfriend was not even in country yet and his little girl was bleeding from the face! Thankfully, my sister the NICU nurse was there and calmed me the heck down. She also calmed Cailin down. Turns out, she’d only cut her lip. I was still nervous and she was still bleeding, so we decided to go to the doctor.

That’s when it hit me.

Who was her doctor? Her insurance was called TriCare – who in my area accepted that? Was there a co-pay? Was this an emergency and I could take her to the hospital or did I have to see a regular doctor? I had NO idea. We had done NOTHING military wise to prepare for the fact that we were moving this little girl from Cherry Point to Northern Virginia! The freak out I had when she fell was nothing compared to the breakdown I had at this point.

When my sister asked where to go, I stared at her blankly before I thought to call a girlfriend who was married to a sailor. She ended up talking to my sister and they decided that for now, the best plan was to go to the doctor my sister interned at the summer before and see what they thought.

Everything got taken care of, and Cailin was fine, but I had never felt so unprepared or scared in my life. I thought we had taken care of everything, but clearly we missed some pretty big things. Next time he called me, I told him what had happened and asked him what to do to get her a doctor in my area. His solution was to learn about the Marine Corps and how they work. He suggested taking a LINKS class.

I called the LINKS coordinator at Quantico (I lived about 20 minutes north of the base) and begged to take the class. The woman was very friendly and signed me up for the next session, no questions asked – which was awesome for a girlfriend.

I learned a lot in the class, and make it a point to take LINKS at every base JUST in case. I also made some great friends who I still talk to on a regular basis. Being with someone in the military is a whole different ball game, and I didn’t realize it until I had to jump in. These guys are not bankers who leave their work at work. The more you know about the military, the easier life is when you are involved with a service member.

And in my case, I have way fewer heart attacks.

Published on July 21, 2012 by Samantha

Kitchen Dreams

I have a dream.

No, no, it’s nothing that big and grand. Nor is it nearly so compassionate and selfless.

I just want to own a bakery.

I can see it in my head – big comfy chairs, piles of books in case someone wants to read while waiting, display cases with all my yummy creations, and the coolest kitchen you could imagine.

I don’t dream of shoes and purses (though I do enjoy those…and my husband would say I don’t dream of them because I have every single one ever made, but he’s a man. He doesn’t get it.). I dream of double ovens and French door refrigerators with two freezers. I could spend hours in Macy’s kitchen section, drooling over the whisks and pans. I regularly try to convince my husband I need a kitchen blowtorch. (Seriously, guys, it’s the best way to make a crème brulee.) He’s hesitant so far.

I’ve already appointed my husband as the general manager of my dream bakery, because all I want to do is bake. I love playing with recipes and guessing on ingredients and adjusting and creating and hoping it turns out ok. I’ve made a few stinkers – please no one ask my husband about the orange French toast. To this day he’ll gag at the thought of ginger in ANYTHING. – but most of the time they come out alright.

It’s taken a while for me to get comfortable making stuff up – and I’m still not totally at ease with it. It’s intimidating to try and create something. My husband had to work for a while to convince me that the biggest problem if I mess up is that we all will have eaten something gross. How’s that going to hurt us? Once I accepted that, I have been a lot calmer and more creative. I hope to one day create a dessert as popular as, say, the chocolate chip cookie. It’s a long shot, but that’s what a dream is all about.

Until then, I will just keep dreaming, testing out recipes, and planning out that kitchen.

So tell me. What’s your biggest dream?

Published on July 18, 2012 by Samantha

Regret

There are a lot of things I could say I regret in my life. That short haircut in college? Yup. That boyfriend from college? Definitely. The tattoos? Depends on the day. Giving up my life to move to a new state to be with my now husband? Not once.

When he and I met in February, I had just gotten back from spending New Year’s Eve in Paris with three girlfriends because we could, and already had my tickets to go to Rome in April with the possibility of moving there. I had never been to Italy and thought it would be fun. I didn’t want to live where I was anymore, and thought Rome might be fun.

After about a month of dating, we realized we had to figure out what was going to happen with us when I moved. He was very patient with me as I went back and forth for a while and finally decided that I liked him enough to stay together while I was gone. I had a return ticket and we decided we would reassess when I got back.

So I went. And I had a fabulous time. I saw the Pantheon, tossed a coin in the Trevi Fountain, snuck pictures of the ‘gladiators’ at the Coliseum, and regularly hung out at the Vatican. I wandered Piazza Navona and the bars, became a pro at pointing out the tourists, spent afternoons people watching in Villa Borghese park, and had gelato at the top of the Spanish Steps. (To be honest, I had gelato almost everywhere. It was so good!) I made new friends, had once in a lifetime experiences…and missed my boyfriend the entire time.

I spent my six weeks in Rome (with a quick stop in London), and came back so excited to see him again. But I kept hearing those little voices in the back of my head about what I would be giving up. Would I always regret giving up ROME for Havelock, North Carolina? What if things didn’t work out with this boy? We’d been dating three months! It was ROME!

And me, being me, I over-thought everything. He was a Marine. What if we did stay together? What else would I give up? My home, my family, my friends, my career (which, to be fair, was on pause for my trip)…pretty much everything I had ever known. How could I do that? What if it didn’t work out? What if I regretted the choice for the rest of my life?

And then I remembered what an old boss of mine told me once. If it’s the right choice, I won’t regret anything. So, after some more over thinking, I realized that Rome would always be there. This boy, and this chance, might not. So I stayed in the States. I gave up everything and moved to North Carolina. Two and half years later, and we’re married and in Hawaii – not quite Rome, but it’s sure not bad – and I just gave birth to our daughter. And you know what? I don’t regret it.

But I’m already convincing our oldest daughter how amazing Europe is and can’t wait until I get back.

With my family.

Published on July 13, 2012 by Samantha

Dating While Married

Even though I have been happily married for two and a half years now, I still have to date. It’s annoying. It’s frustrating. It can be embarrassing.

It’s not with my husband.

I was excited to get married because I thought, finally! I am done with the awkward getting to know you, does he like me, is this a good fit, should I call him? anxiety. Except I am not done with it. I have anywhere from 13-23 years left, depending on my husband.

When you are married to someone in the military, you have to move. Sometimes a LOT. I have been lucky and only moved twice so far, but still. Each time you get some place new, you have no friends. If you are lucky, and have been married to your service member for a long time, you might run in to a few old friends. I’m not there yet. So with every move and every new base comes the awkward friend dating.

The worst part for me is putting myself out there and making it known I want to be friends with certain people. I very clearly remember about six months in to my life as a military extra (I was still a girlfriend at this point) and telling one girl that I wanted her as my friend. She stopped, looked at me kind of oddly, then must have remembered that she was a military spouse too, and said that she wanted to be my friend too. Four years and three moves later, we’re still friends.

My husband always tries to introduce me to the wives of his coworkers, but that can backfire. What if the wife is crazy? (You know it happens.) Because if you try to jumpstart the friendship, then realize she’s nuts, and end it, you will still see her at all the battalion functions. There are only so many times you can suddenly veer away from someone while avoiding contact.

I have found a couple ways that can help. Getting a job is a good one, but a lot of spouses choose not to work. Volunteering on base is another one. Mommy groups can provide not only friends but a support network, especially for moms far away from family. But I know there are more. What are your tried and true ways to make friends when you move?