When you have a daughter and look into those beautiful blue
eyes you know that there are certain milestones you will hit along the
way. You get to hear her say Mama
for the first time, she learns to walk, you buy the first bow 5 times the size
of her head that’s been bedazzled and glittered so bright it can be seen in
Russia from Sarah Palin’s front porch! Everything that little precious wonder does and says
is probably the smartest and most wittiest things you will ever hear and start
thinking to yourself its time to start filling out those apps to MIT or daddy’s
favorite, the Air Force Academy for jet pilot training.
They start school and off they go with their backpack that
has her name perfectly hand stitched on the front pocket and the perfect zipper
accessory of Minnie Ears hanging off the front. All while matching the perfect 1st day of school
outfit with the perfect backpack and making sure daddy is ok and no one is
seeing the mountain of tears and dreams he’s shedding hiding in the garage
caressing his Harley and Baby Girl’s leaf blanket. Sometimes grown men cry over their baby girls. You get used to this anomaly, and
just don’t look in their direction and discreetly hand them a beer and go about
your business, nothing to see here.
I married a man who was hard like woodpecker lips and then I became the life
pod for a baby girl. The day the
doctor told us it was a girl and we saw the picture of her sucking her thumb
and blowing little bubbles in the womb he hasn’t stopped crying. We’ve just learned how to let him have
his moment and then of course bring it up again during the holidays around the
entire family. It’s a Fun Fest for
all.
Once they get to school they start making friends. Unless you’re one of the lucky
kids who grow up as an Army Brat.
That’s a whole new level of friend making that the civies don’t go through. It’s truly a different world and not
the kind Lisa Bonet was dealing with at Hillman College. In regular civilian world when you grow
up in a small town that’s only life support is who works at the GM Plant and who
works at the Ford plant your friends depend on which factory daddy works at and
oh by the way what’s his job.
Remember when life was so simpler and divided by class warfare? If you’re an Army brat it’s not
even the kids, it’s the parents.
It breaks down to 3 different class warfare sections…Enlisted, Officer,
and we don’t know what you are? Not really a “real” Officer definitely not
Enlisted-Warrant Officers. Just to
clear this up, Warrants are still Officers. They’re just cooler than the rest. (Don’t tell anyone I said that last
part, I’ve been reminded on many different occasions how us officer wives are
pretty snobby)
This becomes very important when Baby Girl starts getting
invited to the 315 birthdays she’s going to be invited to living on a military
base. Its been said that Army
wives like to have litters cause them suckers are free. Not saying I said it, it’s just that
its been said. So when you
are invited to one of these great character themed parties you have to decide
the gift. When everyone knows
everyone’s rank the pressure is really on. Its one of the few jobs in the country where all your
counterparts know exactly what your take home pay is and remind you on a daily
basis where you sit on the scale.
Your present will reflect this or you get the look of shame. He’s an officer with 3 vehicles and a Harley Davidson and I
know that Barbie was only $5 from Big Lots you cheap ass!! Oh believe me, I’ve felt
the judgment. And if you’re one of the rare
birds in the military where your spouse also works, you were just moved up on
the ladder of snooty mcsnootness and you better leave that shit at home and
remember who you’re dealing with.
Don’t no one need some mom showing up wearing anything other than the
Dependaspouse uniform of yoga pants, husband’s unit tee shirt and a box of Twinkies.
After the birthday parties and the trips to the neighborhood
parks they make their BFFs.
And then they come to you for the ever dreaded and popular
sleepover. Its when the outsiders
enter your home and it goes from a peaceful place of refuge to the ‘”HOLY SHIT
IM AWAY FROM MY MOM AND GOING TO GO BAT SHIT CRAZY AT YOUR HOUSE” party. The only thing missing from one
of these delightful milestone events is a kid walking out of the kitchen with a
bag of Cheetos and a bottle of Jager rolling a blunt. And by the end of one of these you’ll be begging for
that Jager and Blunt.
You learn a lot about how your parenting is completely different from
the entire rest of the world.
Take child beatings.
You can beat your own, well; you can strongly threaten to beat your own,
as long as you don’t yell too loud so as not to hurt the children’s
feelings. Where as with the
outsider that has batted her pretty eyes and con’d you into thinking she’s one
of the good ones shows up.
You can’t really beat the neighbor’s child. Apparently there’s some law against that. And believe me, at 7 years old, they
know this. They know they
have the upper hand and there’s nothing you or your 3rd glass of
Moscato can do about that.
How do 2 little girls sound like wild buffalo running up
there? How do they get that much
noise out of weighing 40 lbs? And
then nothing questions your abilities and choices to keep your kids alive like
when you try to feed the tiny humans, especially the ones that aren’t
yours. This is when truths are
told. You learn a lot about
people after you try to feed their kids. I’ve learned that everything my mother
ever did to keep me alive is all wrong and that I’m not sure how I made it to
the ripe old age of 39 drinking Coca-Cola for breakfast and eating pancakes
with peanut butter and syrup every day for 12 years of my academic life. But here I am kicking. My mom rocks! I think there are 2 types of
parents today. Granola heads and
Fuck it, as long you’re fed and alive I’ve done my job! You probably guessed where
I am on this sliding scale. Let me just say this from my Kiehl’s
soapbox, parents, if you want to eat the organic Kale smoothie for every meal
that’s awesome, but if you send little Sally to my house, you should know,
there will be pizza made from real yeast and 5 different greasy cheeses and
Sprite. Because they’re kids and
kids need to be real kids before they’re pushed into the world of hurt and
judgment. Maybe just once we
remember what it was like to be a kid.
Millennials and their new age thinking……sheeesh!
After the guilt meals and snacks you’re all settled in for
the night and all is going well and then you hear it. Its the universal sound heard around the world that only
dolphins can truly hear…the muffled sounds of baby girl cries. BABY GIRL WONT LET ME HAVE THE
REMOTE TO WATCH WHAT I WANT TO WATCH ON TV AND I WANT TO WATCH
SPONGEBOB!!!! You know it’s
coming, you should brace yourselves.
There is and always will be at least one breakdown of hurt feelings and
lost friendships for about an hour then all is forgiven. It’s usually after my 2nd
Bottle of Moscato and I threatened to unplug the TV all together and turn the
lights out for bedtime. Lets see
its 6pm, they’ve been playing for an hour and we lived through the gluten
filled supper, sounds about right to me. It’s amazing how they become instant BBFs again. If only us grown-ups could take a
lesson in problem solving resolutions.
These are the rare times it would be great to be a man. To be able to tune it all out and not
care and just throw a bag of Ruffles in the room and go to bed. I admire men, sometimes.
