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By Alyssa, October 30, 2009 3:51 pm

I’ve been cooped up at home for three days now.  The first day was fabulous.  I watched the snow pour down and cancelled all of our appointments outside of the house.  The second day, still a treat, we played forts and super heroes as our back door became barracaded by a drift.  Now it’s day three.  The house is clean, I’ve made enough food for ten families, and the boys are sick with cabin fever.

I remember a day when I would have given anything for three days practically by myself in the house. Deployed in the Army, I was never alone.  EVER.  My first deployment going to shower meant walking over to the homemade crate and 5 gallon water jug.  This “bathroom” was convienently located in the center of our desert camp, a high traffic area. I waited days for that precious hour when the wind would die down as the shower curtain (a leftover canvas tent flap) seemed to have a mind of its own.

Our Shower Stalls

My second deployment was a little better.  The showers were in a row of ten inside of a trailer.  My only complaint?  Every time I showered someone would come in behind me with their mini-speakers, ipod, and ridiculous techno music.  Still can’t look at Biolage shampoo without hearing a umph, umph, umph, in the background.

Eating breakfast, sleeping, doing laundry, peeing, can’t think of a single thing I did while deployed that kept me by myself.  There was always someone in the room or in the next stall.  I remember coming home the first time so excited to see Hubby.  I dropped my bags in the living room, and surveyed our little pad.  He asked me later if I wanted to go to the store with him to grab some stuff for dinner.  ”No, thanks,” I sighed and hugged him.  As soon as he pulled out of the driveway, I sat down, loosened my boots, and listened. Silence.  I rested there for almost an hour and realized it was the first time in months that I had really been alone.  It was glorious.

Now I’m alone, sort of, as the boys are slumbering up in their rooms.  I think instead of rushing around trying to find things to do, I’ll soak up these few minutes to myself.  Before long the toddlers will swarm and sledding is on the agenda.  Maybe tomorrow, just for old times, I’ll pump some techno as I shower and ask the neighbors if they’d mind if we started using a communal port-a-john.  Well, maybe not.  I guess I just need to remember those old times in order to realize my current luxuries, including three-day snow days.

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By Alyssa, October 6, 2009 3:37 pm

Lately, I love when people ask me what I do.  I know it sounds crazy, but I love talking about being at home with the boys.  When I was in the Army full time, it broke my heart to count the number of hours I was away from Bubba.  I remember staring at my work computer screen while I reasoned that 24 hours in a day minus night-time sleep, minus the morning nap, and minus the afternoon nap… I was only missing a few hours of mom-time, right?  It was hard for me to tell other moms that I was only able to spend a few hours a day with my kiddo.

Now I can’t wait to tell people about it.  When someone asks, “What do you do?” I’m so excited to share my story. I really loved the Army and still do once a month in the National Guard, but leaving it was the best decision I’ve made so far.  Imagine my surprise when I realized some stay-home-mamas feel self-conscious, guilty, even embarrassed that they are “just moms.” I’ve listened to women give excuses why they aren’t working outside of the home as if working as a mom isn’t a real job.

I was recently offered a job to go back to the full time Army again.  I didn’t hesitate in my answer.  ”No, thanks.  I have a full time job now.”  Sure, I don’t get a check every week for the number of dirty diapers I’ve changed or a progress report on my ability to weather toddler tantrums.  Instead I’m paid in kisses and really sticky hugs.  My progress report is my collection of honest statements from Bubba (“You’re my best friend, Mommy” or “Take a nap? You’re not my best friend, Mommy”).

My job as a mom definitely isn’t as publicly recognized as being an Army soldier, but I think it is just as important.  Maybe I should start telling every mom I see, “Thanks for your service” as I would a soldier in uniform.  I’ve learned so much this year, including the fact that my boys need me much more than the Army ever did.  I’ve been called to stay at home with my sons.  I’m just a mom and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

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By Alyssa, September 17, 2009 5:13 pm

“So, wait, your husband is NOT in the military?”  Can’t tell you the number of times I’ve been asked this question.  I’ve always joked that there is enough Army in me for the two of us and wasn’t surprised to read recently that less than 6% of male military spouses are civilians. Most of the time, if a wife is in the military, her husband is also.  I haven’t been able to find Army specific statistics, but comparatively the Army has less females than the Navy and Air Force so I’m sure the civilian male spouse percentage is even lower.

Neither Hubby or I knew what we were facing when we jumped into the Army life a little over eight years ago.  Reality set in quickly when we moved into our first home, an on-post cinder block duplex in El Paso, Texas.  Hubby started to despise getting groceries as a quick stop for eggs meant some drill sergeant accosting him about his sideburn length. Or how about the time he was told by the gate guard he couldn’t drive on post unless he took out his earring (an offense for a soldier, not a spouse)?  That first year was tough on both of us, but especially tough on Hubby.  He was still trying to figure out being married to me (a full time job for those of you that know me), let alone being thrust into an unfamiliar environment.

We combated assumptions with humor.  One of my favorite things was to have him pick me up from work. Not sure why, but after announcing to other male soldiers in the unit that I was NOT married to a soldier, they immediately pictured my husband as a 5’5″ one hundred pound wisp of a man that straggled behind me with a sad puppy face. Imagine their surprise when my bronzed Hubby stepped out of our car, a 6’5″ two hundred and fifty pounder with Defensive Line written all over him.  I’m still laughing at their reaction!  Time went on and Hubby grew his buzz cut out and perfected a sole-patch under his lower lip in rebellion to Army standards.  These subtle changes dramatically reduced the “Hey TROOP!” or “SOLDIER, why you out of uniform?” comments he previously received living on post.

Both deployments, Hubby’s position became invaluable.  During my first deployment, he was a comfort to our Family Readiness Group, an organization dedicated to supporting families while their soldier is away.  As the only male in this spouse support group, he served as Mr. Fix-it and human-kiddo-jungle-gym at meetings. We were stationed in Colorado for my second tour and Hubby became a single dad with an eighteen month old. Where do I begin to express my gratitude for such a task?

We’ve traded roles recently as he heads off to work while I stay at home with our boys.  Thinking back to those first few years, it’s hard for me to now complain about Hubby’s work stuff left in a trail from the door when he comes home or the fact that he lets snooze go off five times before getting up. He never complained about anything during my active duty days, including my sleeping cot to cot with a bunch of dudes during field exercises or his required attendance as the only suit in a room of dress uniforms at military balls.  I know that I couldn’t have done the Army without him and he’s certainly left big shoes to fill.