An Ode to My Mother

With Mother’s Day right around the corner, I wanted to tell you about all of the amazing, talented and wonderful mother’s I know.  I don’t have the time or energy to do that so I thought it would be fitting to introduce you to my mom.  

My mom’s name is Mary Jo. I still think she’s the prettiest lady in the world.  Her half Irish, half Slavic face in repose is kind and patient. She doesn’t like to cook and her house is immaculately clean. She has a picture of Tupac Shakur in her bathroom. She’s a teacher by trade which explains her innate ability to attract the attention of the room when she walks through the door.  Her voice is quiet and kind and her laugh is infectious. I remember once sitting in church, the priest said something and my mom could not stop laughing.  When my mom can’t stop laughing, no one can. I started and then my dad and siblings.  Our family of 5 quietly exited the church one by one because we could not control ourselves.  That’s my mom.  She’s classy and gracious and fun and can shot gun a beer in under 5 seconds.  My advice would be to not challenge her in this area.     

You don’t realize how amazing your mom is until you’re trying to be one yourself.  My mom is amazing. She created a wonderful childhood for my siblings and I.  Some of my fondest memories were spending summers together at the pool, road trips in our red and tan suburban and going to the library.  My mom would take us to the library every week.  I remember the magical feeling I got when I walked through the doors and my mom would let me wander to find the perfect book.  We read together every night.  As I got older, I would read to her.  It’s a mental picture I will carry with me throughout my life.  They only time I questioned her judgment was when she made me read The Diary of Ann Frank when I was 9.  I was appalled by the events and thought it was boring but my mom always encouraged me to do things that made me uncomfortable and challenged my ideas so for that I am grateful.  Each morning when she would drop my siblings and I off at school she would make us say, “I am kind, I am intelligent, I believe in myself, I CAN do it!” We yelled at the top of our lungs in that suburban and I believed every word. I still do.  

Growing up, my mom made me feel safe.  I was comforted knowing she was there. And she was there for everything. Every sing-along, Halloween parade, Christmas party and field trip.  Every softball game, school dance, graduation, everything.  In elementary school, a boy named Justin spit in my hair on the way home from school because I wasn’t of the predominant faith.  My mom calmly helped me wash my hair even though she was shaking with anger.  She always took care of me first. I sometimes wonder what happened to that boy...I'm sure he works at a car wash.  In middle school, there were a group of girls that teased me for the very same thing.  My mom took me out to dinner and shopping and made me feel like none of that mattered.  That those girls didn’t matter, only me. I know her heart hurt seeing me hurt but my mom had the strength and tenacity to let me fight my own battles and I'm a better person for it.

Mom, I get it now.  I get all of it.  I understand the love that you have for me because I have that for my own kids. There are not enough words for me to describe how I feel about you. So, let me just say thank you.  Thank you for always putting me first, for sacrificing your needs for mine.  When there were only 4 pieces of cake left for dessert, you said “ I don’t really like that kind of cake” and you always ate the burnt toast. Thank you for giving me advice; sometimes it’s advice that I don’t want to hear, but I appreciate your honesty and ability to put things in perspective for me. Thank you for giving me tough love when I needed it most. You walked in front of me as a child, setting an example.  You walked behind me as a teenager in case I needed you. And now you're my dearest friend.  You were right about everything.  I’ll never know how you put all three of us through school while managing to fund all of our little side projects. You never showed it but I know there were so many times you felt like you failed but in my eyes and in my mind you are supermom.  You never gave up. You did what I feel like is impossible now. You made this mom gig look easy.

You’ve instilled in me a sense of resilience and hopefulness and enthusiasm for life and I know I will give that to my own kids as well. In one way or another, in everything I do, you are always my point of reference. There is a reason I think I can do anything. It’s because I listened to you.  

I love you mom. Happy Mother’s Day!

Food Is My Love Language

This week, I saw my future and it wasn’t pretty. 

 

If we’re friends on any form of social media, you now know that baseball has consumed our lives.  Don’t get me wrong, I love every minute of it but it’s really hard to have to leave work 2 hours early to get everyone picked up and to the ball park.  Thankfully, Sean has only had to miss a few games so far.  I know I’m not the only mom who doesn’t make some sort of a dinner plan and ends up waiting in line in the drive-through at Little Casers for a half an hour to get a shitty pizza…at least I hope I’m not.

 

On Tuesday, Sean was on shift and by the time I had picked up the kids it was close to 7 pm when we got home.  Dinner.  Not planned. Not even close.  The kids went straight for our old staple, Lucky Charms. I had a more difficult time deciding because I had eaten cereal for every meal that day.  Over the weekend, my lovely mother had cleaned out her freezer and brought over a multitude of frozen food selections.  Should I go with the pirogues? The freezer-burned pasty? No.  I decided on a Marie Calendars microwave dinner.  Two things. 1. I was clearly sodium deficient and needed to consume a weeks worth of salt in one meal. 2. The last time I ate a microwave meal I was 7. There were peas in my brownie and it scarred me for life.  

While Jack was busy practicing pop flies by himself in the back yard, I was shamefully eating my Salisbury steak dinner…gravy was everywhere and I started to think about the seniors I move into my community and the amount of TV dinners they ate before coming to me.  I daydreamed about what my life would be like when I’m 80 and quickly made a mental note to make Lucy promise to always pluck my chin hairs. 

If you need to know one thing about Sean and any of the guys on his crew, it’s that they are amazing cooks.  I’m not talking about endives topped with pears, which evidently is delicious.  I’m talking about bacon-wrapped meatloaf and things dripping with gravy.  It’s not pretty food but it’s delicious and if you know me at all, you know that good food is my love language. Whenever Sean cooks, I’m reminded of why I married him in the first place.  I mean, besides the fact that he’s ridiculously good-looking.  When Sean and his crew work a Saturday/Sunday shift, we have family night at the fire station.  It’s a tradition that Sean’s previous captain started and he was a genius for implementing it in the first place.  It’s a perfect time to eat great food, let the kids play, and more importantly get to know the other wives.  Dinner is usually interrupted for the guys to go on calls, and the wives have only ended up cooking once. In between the calls we enjoy great food and company.  If your firefighter’s crew doesn’t do this, suggest it. It’s something my kids and I will remember for the rest of our lives. The kids are spoiled with rides on the fire truck and even more fun for them, the chair races and hide and seek with scary clown and horse masks. Only once has someone had to get stitches. (Don’t tell the legal team at the FD because we’d be in huge trouble I’m sure.)  

These are some of the moments and memories I go to when life gets a little challenging. These amazing men who look at my husband as a brother and would do anything for him, they would do anything for me too. Their amazing wives who get this life and the challenges that come with it.  They are my own little village and the memories I’ve made with them so far have been remarkable.  Isn’t spending time with family and people you love what life is all about? That and a good plate of food?

 

60% Of The Time, It Works, Everytime...

Do you ever have days where you feel like you’re nailing it as a parent? Days when your kids are awake and ready for the day, breakfast eaten, looking like children from a Gap ad?  Those days when everyone had a great day at school and work,  the kids eat all of their dinner, cleared their plates and didn’t fight once about bedtime. It’s awesome! This happens in my life about 30% of the time, minus the Gap ad clothing/hair. (I love making up statistics and imagining my children dressed like Gap models.) Then there are the days when you are NOT nailing it.  Baths were skipped the night before because homework had to be done and I was in high heels until 8 pm and Sean was on shift.  There may be some dog pee on the carpet, something is burning on the stove and the kids are slightly smelly and have been crying since the minute you picked them up from daycare.  Seriously. This happens. (see below)  

 
At the time this video was taken, all I could do was laugh, despite the fact my son was choking on a Frito. You can’t win them all.  This is my life about 10% of the time.  The other 60% of the time we’re just moving blissfully through, waking up, going to work, eating dinner, throwing in some baseball, dance and Taekwondo…the occasional glass of wine for mom and then to bed.  Everyone tells me that I’ll want these days back. I know I will.  It’s funny that these things rarely happen when Sean is home. He brings a calm to our house and the kids are more relaxed.  I’m anxious and I clearly make my kids a little anxious too.  I’m working on it.  Thankfully I have a supportive partner.  One of the most common challenges I see and hear from my fellow wives, and all wives for that matter are scheduling issues.  My life is a constant juggle of four schedules. We literally have something going on almost 7 days a week.  If I didn’t have Sean and my parents and in-law’s to help me I would be totally lost.  No joke. They are the best.  If I get stuck at work on one of Sean’s shift days, they are all just a phone call away and have come to my rescue more times than I can count.  One of the things that helps Sean and I the most is our weekly “Staff Meeting.” I know it sounds neurotic but hear me out. We have one day a week, and it changes based on his schedule, where we talk about the upcoming week and who is taking which kid where and any extra things we have going on and I put it on a calendar on the fridge. Ask Sean. My calendar is the truth. If something isn’t on that calendar, he never told me about it. J It sounds sort of rigid but it’s so helpful when we’re moving through a busy week and everyone knows what to expect. Plus, it’s a really cute calendar and I feel like it deserves to be looked at.  

I’m  not a great sharer of my relationship with Sean for a few reasons.  First, we’re happy. I don’t need to blast out how much I love my “hubby” (please stop using this word.  It’s not cute) on social media, I tell him every day. To his face and he does the same for me.  He makes me feel like I’m the only girl in the world ( I know, gross.)  Second, We’re a great team.  If I drop the ball, he’s there to pick it up. I don’t even have to tell him. Take this morning for example, Sean picked Jack up from his afterschool program last Friday and had his Taekwondo bag in his truck. This morning, Sean is back on shift and I get to Jack’s place and realize I forgot to throw his bag in the car. Then, I remember that Sean is back on shift and I'm trying to figure out a way to tell Jack and when I looked to see if it would somehow magically appear, there it was. Sean put it there. It’s a small thing but it makes a huge difference for me on a busy morning and for Jack who loves routine.  Thirdly, he makes it happen.  If he says he’s going to do something, he does it.  I know there are times when he’d rather grab drinks with his friends or go duck hunting or just sit downstairs and watch TV by himself but he doesn’t.  He’s home, cooking dinner, finishing laundry, picking up kids and meeting me so we can swap and get everyone where they need to go.  Lastly, I don’t think you really care to know about my relationship because you have your own life and your own relationships and I hope that you’re all busy concentrating on those instead. J 

Are there times when Sean makes me crazy? Yes. It must be really nice for him though, because I’m perfect in every way, like Mary Poppins, but dressed way better. The important thing is that we talk to each other.  If he does something I don’t like, I tell him.  If he’s acting distant, I tell him and if he leaves his socks by the couch one more time, he’s going to have to find a new home to live in. Seriously though, fire wives and partners and all wives and firemen too for that matter, don’t be afraid to speak your mind.  Stand up for yourself and let your partner know when you need support or help or if you need a minute to step outside because your kids have been possessed (reference the video above.) I can’t stress the importance of communication enough. Sometimes it’s hard. Sometimes I feel really uncomfortable doing it but I do it anyway. He needs to hear it and sometimes, so do I.  I expect him to tell me when something isn’t working, or when he needs support or help or a break.  We’re not roommates, we’re married and this is one of the ways we make it work.  Early on in our marriage I told Sean that I needed him to clean the house before he went on shift because it would help me when he was away.  I asked once. I’ve never had to ask again. It’s always done. He is the kind of partner you deserve to have in your life, you can’t be afraid to ask for what you want, men are not mind readers, I mean they can barely get all of their urine in the toilet…  

We are not perfect. In fact, we are far from it.  We’re just making all of this up as we go along. Will we pay for our children's therapy? Most likely .  For now, we have each other and the kids and probably some dog pee on the carpet but life is what you make it and we choose to make it good.

She Wolf Pack

Last Friday, I couldn’t take it any more.  Sean was working a trade in addition to his shift and I was not about to stay home for another weekend alone. So, I packed a bag, threw the kids in the car and drove to Idaho to see my sister.  Crazy I am not. My kids are the world’s greatest road trippers.  Lucy sang for the better part of 4 hours and Jack totally impressed me with his knowledge of road-kill and natural land formations.  I realize that in my last post, I sounded really negative, but I’m not sorry.  Being married to a public servant causes you to experience emotions on an entirely different level.  Being married to a fire fighter is a lifestyle and you’re on your own sometimes for long stretches and it wears on you, at least it wears on me.   

While I was driving, I had a lot of time to think.  I literally didn’t have a worry in the world except what my sister would cook for dinner. It was glorious.  It was so refreshing to just be with my kids, really be with them and to drive. We had a great weekend with my sister and her boyfriend and I know you’re all wondering what she cooked for dinner, it was spaghetti and it was delicious.   

I find that when I’m in the throws of the week, working and playing mom and wife, I sometimes lose track of what’s important in my life, what really matters.  And what really matters are my kids, and Sean.  My family. Being with them and being present. That being said, there’s another piece that’s important, I would say vital to making it through this life and that piece is friends.  

Today, my Yogi Tea said “Recognize that the other person is you.” I think you can interpret this any way you like, however I took it to mean that the qualities I like in Sean, or any other person for that matter are qualities that I have myself or strive to have.  Conversely, the qualities I don’t like so much are also vices that I possess.   As I’m moving through this life, I’ve come to realize that friendships are a vital piece of survival. I’m not talking about my Facebook friends, although some of you apply, I’m talking about the women in my life that I am connected to.  The women in my life that replenish me.  The women who possess all of the qualities I have or wish I had. They have a shared sense of sensibility and the qualities I find in them, remind me daily of who I want to become.  I’ll bet you’d like to know their names, but I couldn’t possibly spread their names all over the internet, so I’ll give you a hint, the letters in their names can be found throughout this blog post.  There are so many wonderful ladies in my life I could write about each of them for hours, especially my own mom and sister,  but for the sake of not fleshing out this blog post, I’ll just tell you about a few of them.

Let’s start with an old one.  I’ll call her Blondie. I met Blondie when I was a sophomore in high school.  We starred in “Little Woman” together and as far as we are concerned (I know I speak for her) we should’ve won an Oscar. We’ve had many adventures together, but one of my favorite memories was driving around Salt Lake City and Riverton in her topless, red Jeep Wrangler. We continuously listened to Jay-Z and Jermaine Dupri’s “Money Ain’t A Thang” like two white girls who were experiencing life for the first time.  We’ve remained friends for over 16 years.  The thing that I love most about Blondie is that we can go long periods of time without talking and pick up where we left off.  If I have big news, she’s one of the first people to know. If I see some really HIGH “Utah Hair” She’s the first one to receive my over-the-shoulder-top-secret text with a picture attached.  She is an exceptional marketing consultant and she knows “what all the kids are saying these days.”  Blondie will validate me in any decision or with any dilemma; she’s always on my side and I appreciate her presence in my life.

 

Next up, another lady I’ve been friends with for over 16 years. I’ll call her BMWJ.  Our story begins in sophomore English class.  We hated each other.  Like literally. I don’t remember specifics but we were definitely two Type-A personalities that wanted the attention of the room.  As I recall, the day we became friends was the day a boy in our class sneezed so hard he tipped his desk over and fell out.  We were the only two people who laughed.  I can’t remember if that boy got hurt or not…but it doesn’t matter.  We’ve been friends ever since.  BMWJ was actually Sean’s date to prom when I went with his best friend and her parents and my parents are dear friends to this day.  She and her family hold a special place in my heart; they are friends who have become my family.  The thing that I love most about BMWJ is that I always know where I stand.  She is a woman who isn’t afraid to tell you what she thinks and backs it up with facts.  She is also one of the few people in my life who can tell me when I’m being a crazy person.  I love and hate that she calls me out sometimes; I need it and I appreciate it more than she knows.  BMWJ is my sounding board.  If I need advice with anything, she’s one of the first people I call because she is able to approach everything factually.  She lays out the pros and cons and helps me to process.  I’m currently working on getting her to have some those tough conversations for me.  There is nothing that fills my soul as much as a camping trip with BMWJ and it’s not because we have an ongoing competition on whose feet will be the dirtiest (she always wins) it’s because we are together with no obligations except to finish the vodka and Fresca we’re drinking.

I met D&T through BMWJ.  They happen to be sisters and they happen to be awesome.  These two are kind and funny and have a unique outlook on life. The thing that I love best about D&T is their ability to be free.  If things don’t go according to plan, they’re flexible.  They are the women who go with the flow.  Anyone who knows me well knows that I am anxious and I have a hard time when things change and don’t go according to plan.  D&T help calm my soul. We can also go long periods of time without talking but if ever I need a calming presence, these are my go to girls.

The ladies that I work with are also incredible.  I spend more time with them than my family. They lift me up at my weakest moments.  They understand what it feels like to be a full-time working mom.  They’ve seen me cry, walked with me through the guilt and covered for me when I’ve had to leave to take care of the kids when Sean is on shift and they are fabulous BUNCO players.  The person at work who is also my mentor, I’ll call her JBG (Jolly Blonde Giant) has made the greatest impact on me professionally.  JBG talks me off of the proverbial ledge when my census is in the toilet.  She walks me through talking points for difficult conversations I have to have and routinely brushes my hair when I need it. She has helped me to become better at my career than I ever thought possible.

Lastly, I can’t forget my fellow fire wives.  I love them all.  They understand this life. They understand what it’s like to be alone.  They understand what it’s like not knowing if your husband is coming home in the morning.  Our husbands are partners and friends and naturally we’ve become partners and friends.  If any of them needed me for anything I would drop whatever I’m doing to help them; just like they would do the same for me. These are my people.

 

What I’m getting at with all of this ladies (and gentlemen) is that you have to have good friends in your life.  You have to have people you can call when you need someone to talk to.  You have to surround yourself with people who lift you up and push you to be better. I am so lucky to be surrounded by these ladies.  It’s just a bonus that they’re really fun and that we have a great time when we’re together.  If I didn’t have these ladies and all of the other ladies in my life, I would feel alone, I think we all would. You fill a place in my heart that Sean can’t.  Without you, there is no way I would make it through the challenges of life and being alone when Sean is on shift.  You all replenish me.  You make me want to be a better person.  You possess the qualities that I strive to have.  Quite simply, I don’t know what I would do without you.     

All By Myself...

I’ve been feeling sorry for myself this week. I received some not so great news about my beloved boss leaving my company. My census is not where it should be, and those in senior care know that census is directly tied to your happiness/ability to function like a normal human being.  Sean’s been on shift, teaching classes and is working a trade in addition to his regular shift this week and both kids are getting over some horrible sickness and I’m tired. So tired.  I had lunch with a dear friend today and she made the analogy of balancing a plate that’s piled really high…well, my plate is piled and it’s about to fall on the lap of some poor sap (namely, my husband) because I literally can’t balance another thing this week.  This same friend suggested that we go on a desert quest to find our spirit animals.  At this point, I’m desperate, and if there’s tequila involved it sounds like a quest I want to be a part of. 

 

I know that the source of my stress this week is work related and the fact that Sean’s on shift, with more shift days and long work trips to come and I feel like I have to do it all by myself.  You and I both know that isn’t true because Sean’s doing what he can when he’s home but let me feel sorry for myself today. Being alone feels overwhelming when I’m getting the kids ready and dropped off in the morning and leaving work early to make sure they get picked up on time, throw in baseball, Taekwondo and dance and the fact that I'm wearing high heels and it’s starting to feel like I’ve overextended myself.  Thank God we have cereal to eat because cooking dinner isn’t in the cards. 

In the midst of trying to find some calm this week, I was constantly seeing pictures of t-shirts in my Facebook newsfeed that say My Heart Belongs to a Smokin’ Hot Firefighter and Forget The Fire Truck, Ride the Firefighter, and my recent favorite, The Only Fire He Can’t Put Out is the One He Started Inside My Heart.  Well guess what? This week, my heart is cold. as. stone. And those shirts are ridiculous.  Ride the Firefighter? Please, we’re all too tired for that.  Now, I know what you’re thinking, “You heartless bitch!” But hear me out. I don’t mean my heart is cold as in I don’t have the ability to love or be kind, because I do.  What I mean is that my heart knows what to expect now. The t-shirts make me roll my eyes and think, "Those girls and guys have no idea what's coming."  When I was newly married and new to the fire life, I was told “Oh, he’ll miss so much” and “Just wait until you have to share him with 5 other guys” (which was secret fire code for 50 guys and some gals) I hadn’t yet experienced the magnitude of the amount of time Sean would miss with me and with the kids. It’s a lot. My hat is off to military wives and single moms and dads everywhere because this shit is crazy.  There were times in our marriage where the kids and I would attack Sean in the morning with hugs and kisses when he came home.  We don’t get to do that very often anymore because he’s teaching fire science and he goes straight to the school after getting off shift. By the time I get home and we feed the kids, we have about 2 hours to spend together before I turn into a pumpkin. I literally can’t remember the last time we went on a date that didn’t involve some sort of shopping for the kids or toilet paper.  Life is busy and our priorities have changed and we’re working really hard to figure out how we can make each other a priority in the midst of every thing we have going on.  I know that many of you feel this same way, and not all of you are wives of firefighters.  It’s a work in progress. When I figure out the magic formula, I’ll let you know. 

 

Remember at the beginning of this post where I told you to let me feel sorry for myself today? Good.  Here’s a fun firefighter fact: At the end of every year, Sean and his platoon hold a vacation draw where they draw off shifts in a round robin form.  It’s based on seniority and it’s hit or miss whether they’ll get the days they want or need for the following year depending on someone else wanting or needing that same day. I like to imagine a “Jerry Springer” style fight over drawing Christmas off, but really, those guys are done in about 15 minutes and they shoot the breeze for another hour.  It’s difficult to plan vacations for the next year based on a shift calendar, and quite frankly, it sucks.  It always sneaks up on us and we never have any idea what we’ll have going on six to eight months from that day.  Sean usually lucks out with all of our birthdays and our anniversary.  Other than that, it’s the luck of the draw.  I can think of two Thanksgivings and two Christmas Eves that Sean was able to be home with us.  I struggled for years trying to find a balance on holidays; splitting up time with my parents and my in-laws and made myself sick trying to make sure everyone had equal time. I did it to myself.  I’ve spent 6 Christmas Eve’s playing Santa alone. One year, it took me three hours to build a train set for Jack because I needed tools and obviously had to be a structural engineer to put together.  You may not know this, but I also moonlight as a general contractor. I’ve plunged toilets, fixed toilets, tightened sprinkler valves, replaced furnace filters, shoveled snow and climbed a ladder to the roof, in high heels to get a football down for Jack and the neighbor kids. (Not my smartest move.) The point is, I had to learn how to do these thing by myself. (Refer to my first post where I discuss everything that can go wrong, goes wrong when Sean is on shift) It’s hard to manage my own life in addition to the kids', throw in a fountain sprinkler and it’s a recipe for a nervous breakdown.  In the moment, it feels like my world is spinning.  When I look back on some of my forced home improvement adventures it’s empowering.  I can fix anything. Sometimes a call or a visit from my dad or father-in-law happens but I can mange most things with YouTube's help. 

Do you know what used to be more difficult than fixing a sprinkler? Going places alone. I don’t mean going to the grocery store or the gas station because those two places are sometimes the only place where I can get some peace and quiet for 20 minutes. What I mean is BBQ’s, parties, parent teacher conferences, baseball and dance. Without Sean. Sean and I consider ourselves lucky to have such great family and friends. I certainly wouldn’t want them to plan get-togethers revolving around Sean’s schedule because we would never see each other. Ever.  It just so happens that Sean is on shift for a lot of those things.  When I was new to this life, I remember thinking how much easier it would be to stay home and wallow in my own self-pity.  I used to wonder if our friends thought we were getting a divorce because Sean was MIA for everything scheduled for about 6 months and staying home sounded a lot better than making the old “Oh, he’s at work” excuse.  Well, me 8 years ago was crazy, obviously. Now, I am a professional at going places solo; it doesn’t bother me anymore. I would much rather have interactions with adults and let my kids play with kids and chickens than to sit home feeling sorry for myself. (I know, that defeats the purpose of my feeling sorry for myself post today) But listen. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. How you chose to react to your husband being gone is on you, and I clearly need to follow my own advice. Life is all about choices.  Are there times when I am a basket case and feel like everything is going wrong and I can’t do anything right, sure. Are there times when a toilet will overflow because my darling daughter flushed a comb? Yep.  But I get to choose to own the crazy or to be smothered by it.  From this moment on, I choose to own it. I choose to continue falling deeper in love with the man I married.  I choose to love Sean through the broken toilets, through the coffee spills, through the times I go to parties and parent teacher conferences and other events alone. More importantly than that, I choose to love myself and be patient with myself. I am more powerful than my negative thoughts.  I love this man and I love this life, even though my feet hurt from wearing high heels all week.

 

My challenge to you is to own your moments of crazy. And own them today. There are seven days in a week, and someday isn’t one of them.

 

You Know I Don't Speak Spanish...

Sometimes being married is hard.  It’s two people, sharing living space, germs, a bathroom and toothpaste.  Don’t get me wrong, I love Sean and couldn’t have asked for a better partner in this life. Being married to him is exciting and hard and fun and exhausting.  If you try to tell me that you have a perfect marriage, I know you’re lying.  There are times when I want to push Sean down the stairs, but I don’t, because who would clean my house? I’m sure there are times when Sean feels the same way, but he won’t because who will eat all of the ice cream in the freezer so he won’t have to?

Everyone knows that married life isn’t what we see on T.V. and in movies. In my life, it’s brutally honest and real.  There are amazing days and difficult days, and I’ll be honest, for Sean and I, it’s sometimes a lot of work.  More specifically, for us, sometimes it’s hard to communicate and I’ll tell you why.   

Let me preface what’s to follow with this: First Responders are not crazy, they see things that the rest of us don’t.  They see a lot of horrible things in a short shift.  There are days when Sean comes home from work and I know he had a bad call because he has the “Thousand Yard Stare.” He can’t focus on me or the kids, he’ll acknowledge us and help everyone get on with the day but something is missing.  I know his heart is home, but his head isn’t.  His head is with the girl whose face was literally torn off in a car accident. It’s with the family who lost everything in a house fire and with the family of the man who had a massive heart attack in front of all of them.  How can someone just turn those memories off?  They can’t.  Sean and I talk all the time about what it’s like on scene.  He tells me over and over again, the second he arrives on scene, his emotions get shut off.  He says that he has to use the practical part of his brain to assess and make decisions in the moment.  Then, after cleaning up the mess, Sean and his crew go back to the station and eat dinner.  I don’t know if they talk about what they’ve seen or if they just make inappropriate jokes about it; but my guess is the latter.

Where do these emotions, or as Sean calls them, his ghosts go? I’m no psychologist but this is what I know.  These emotions, at least in my husband, get shoved away somewhere deep in his brain and they come out at random times throughout his day. There are times he loses his cool when our kids are jumping on the couch because he has a flashback of the kid that broke some limbs jumping on his couch.  There are times when we’re at a social function and people ask him, “What’s the worst call you’ve ever been on?” flashback to the girl who was texting and driving. There are nights when he can’t sleep because he’s dreamt about something he’s seen.  (Sean would want me to tell you that he can still sleep with the lights off.)  Sometimes, I’ll try to talk to him about anything; work, the kids, the dogs puking on the carpet and I know he can hear me, he’s just not actively listening and it takes everything in me to not shake him and say, “Pay attention to me! I’m pretty!” I’m kidding, I would never shake him.  Sean tells me that he can’t come home or be at a party and explain to an average person about the stressful and gruesome details of a call. He says it will screw their heads up even more than it does his. I know that not communicating those calls to me is his way of protecting me from hearing the unthinkable.  The fact is; I want to hear about those calls, in my mind it would help to ease his burden. It’s a catch-22.  This is what we deal with.  It’s real and it’s hard sometimes not knowing what’s going on in his head. I don’t want you to think this happens daily, because it doesn’t.  It’s sporadic and like everything in life, we deal with it as it comes.

To my fellow fire wives and girlfriends, old and new, I know this is something you've experienced because you've told me.  But let me tell you this, what your husband or significant other is "dealing" with shouldn't diminish your role in this crazy life.  Continue to work on lifting yourself up, because sometimes, your husband just can't do it.  My mom always told me growing up, "You can't depend on a man to get you through this life." My mom loves Sean, but she's right.  His ghosts shouldn't affect my ability to be happy.  My happiness is up to me.  Surround yourself with people who make you feel good. Don't take your spouse's lack of ability to share what's going on in their mind personally because if you do, the ghosts will weigh you down too.  I consider myself lucky because Sean recognizes what's happening and he owns it.  For the small number of times I don't feel "paid attention to" he builds me up and celebrates me and my successes. More importantly, he makes the kids feel valued and important, and that to me is all that matters in life.  That and a fresh coat of nail polish.

It's all fun and games...until you're alone with two kids

Listen. The following story is true. I'm sure you wives and girlfriends and partners can attest that when your significant other is on shift, anything and everything will go wrong. It's hard for me to say this, because I like to think of myself as somewhat of a feminist, but I depend on Sean. A. Lot. He’s the level head, the one who literally holds our household together. I’ll be honest, I’d like to claim that title, but I’d be lying. Usually, by the time I fly in the door after a long day, it’s rush, rush, rush, dinner, bath and bed. Thankfully, Sean will usually have dinner started and laundry going and most of the time I have a clean house. So, imagine, if you can, the cyclone that is my life when he’s on shift. This particular story happened on a cold, snowy day. A little background for you; I have to leave my house with both kids, dressed and ready to go by 7:51 am or I’ll be late for work. After a significant

amount of snooze time, I realized it was 7:15. Shit. I flew out of bed, showered and was dressed by 7:30. I woke both kids and repeatedly fought with my 7 year old about the speed of which he was NOT dressing himself. Then, I hit the bathroom with my potty training three year old who couldn’t have possible taken longer to pee, flush and wash her hands all by herself. Look. I love them both dearly, but it was time to get a move on! Naturally, there were clothes scattered all over the floor, dogs tracking snow all over the house and a splattering of urine on my bathroom floor. There was no toothpaste on the counter today because there was no time to brush teeth. I shipped my kids to school and daycare with mismatched socks, a backwards shirt and smelly breath. #motheroftheyear.
 
After discovering I was wearing mismatched shoes and a long day at the office, it was time to make the 30 minute trek across the valley. I gathered up Lucy from her amazing daycare (Her hair was now in a pony tail and her shirt was on the correct way) Grabbed Jack from his after school program and headed home. It was now 6:15 pm. The kids were hungry so I fixed up my specialty, Lucky Charms. I promise that my kids usually have a great meal on the table at dinner, but sometimes, the cereal wins. Post “dinner” it was time for baths and showers. I popped Lucy into the bath and after a few rousing renditions of “The Wheels on the Bus” she gave me a panicked look. Before I knew it, poop...was all over the bath. Lucy, with her sweet little voice said “uh oh.” Uh oh is right. Look, I feel like I’m smart and that I’m capable of making hard decisions in the heat of the moment. What followed was a lesson in what not to do. My first thought was “I have to get this poop out of the bath” then, “No, I need to get Lucy out first” it was a pretty exhausting back and forth in my head for at least 30 seconds. The poop won. In my panicked state, I grabbed a wad of toilet paper; it’s what I do when the dogs poop in the house so my tired brain went there. Yep. I dunked that toilet paper into the bath so fast...and then immediately realized my mistake. Great. Now I have shreds of wet toilet paper floating in the tub with the poop. Also, did I mention that Lucy is still in the tub at this point? Plan B. Lucy takes a bath in my bathroom and I let the toilet paper and poop filled bath sit there until she’s finished. In the meantime, Jack is crying the hallway that he can never take a shower in his shower ever again because, "THERE'S POOP EVERYWHERE!"  In the middle of explaining to Jack how bleach works, Sean calls. I fill him in on the goings on. When Sean is on shift, he’s out of the house for two days. Stuck at the station and totally worthless when it comes to cleaning toilet paper and poop out of the bathtub. I know Sean wants to be home to help me. I know he feels bad when these things happen and he can’t do anything about it. It’s part of the life. After huffing on the phone in my best “I didn’t sign up for this” voice. I hung up with a quick “I love you.” And I immediately felt a rash of guilt. Could it be the influence of my mother and the “Catholic Guilt” she helped instill in my self-conscience? Possibly, however, the older I get, the better I am at recognizing my feelings and talking about them. I realized that I had treated Sean like this was his fault for being away. His fault that I had a bad day and his fault that I still had poop and soggy toilet paper waiting for me in the bathtub. I know that I speak for more than one fire wife when I say that we are pro’s at making our spouses feel guilty for things they have nothing to do with when they are away. Why did I do it? Here's the truth. I wanted to control the fact that Sean was away. I wanted him to know how hard it is when he’s gone. I wanted him to know that while he’s at the station, playing pranks and not eating Lucky Charms for dinner that I’m at home, alone with two screaming kids and a bathtub full of poop.  Here's the thing, what I said to Sean didn't make me feel good. It didn't make him come home from work, and it certainly didn't change the fact that I had a bathtub full of poop. Although it's really great and necessary to talk with your spouse about what's happening at home while they're not there, it's all about the approach. I could've just told him I was really busy and had to call him back when I wasn't so upset about the night from hell.  Instead, I took the low road, giving him one more thing to deal with on a shift that included a house fire, a meth overdose and a small child being hit by a car.  Suddenly, dealing with a bathtub full of poop seemed like a really small problem.  My unsolicited advice to you is this: Don't sugarcoat what's happening at home but approach it in a calm and constructive way. Truth be told, he's probably dealing with something that would cause me to sob uncontrollably or break out my best round house kick.  I'm still learning this whole "fire wife" role and to be honest, I'm winging it. Life. Motherhood. My eyeliner. Everything.