Traveling with kids…ah, the curiousity, the excitement, the four million questions every thirty seconds of a five hour plane ride — what memorable and wonderful family building moments we have shared in the past two months. I sit in a Starbucks writing to you today because I do not actually have a desk and chair in my home… though we hope that our stuff will be showing up at the end of this week. Then there’s just the little issue of unpacking thirty thousand boxes and putting everything where it will go… but that’s another drama.

We spent almost a month driving around the great state of California, just me, Turbo, Lunchbox and absolutely anything that we could stuff into a small four door car. This included two carseats, a stroller with a stand-on attachment, many stuffed animals, Legos and random assorted hotwheels, a sleeping bag, two pillows, diapers, wipes, overnight diapers, etcetera, etcetera. It was a bit of a mess trying to unpack and repack the car at every destination — plus, California is kind of big and we actually went through several climate changes while there, so I had the trunk working like a huge suitcase, shufflling jeans to the bottom, shorts to the top; stashing sweaters over here and tank tops down there. When it came time to reduce this all down to the gear that we’d fly east with, well… that was hard. My mother in law shipped a large box of our stuff out to us, and I left a good amount of stuff in the car when it shipped (shhhh!) In the end, I was dropped off at the airport with three large pieces of luggage, a stroller with a stand-on platform attached, three carryons, and a carseat for Lunchbox. Oh, and two small kids. In otherwords, I was basically immobile once delivered to the curb of the United terminal at LAX.

I’m typically airport girl. I love traveling, and have done so enough for work and pleasure to have my airport approach down to a system. A finely tuned machine. It works best when I’m on my own, and I’ve streamlined the process so as to move very quickly, carry very little and do the absolute minimum of waiting. I can’t control security, but I can certainly have my laptop out, baggie ready and shoes off before I even get to the conveyor belt. I can choose the shortest line, dart into it quickly and plop my carryon luggage up on the belt before the long line has even crawled a step. I can have my boarding pass and ID all ready to go and slip them effortlessly back into the right pocket of my pants before stepping through the beepy thing that hates metal. And I can sit at the gate, quietly sipping my coffee and eating my breakfast, glowing with the confidence that my luggage will absolutely fit in the overhead bin and that I will waste no time waiting for checked bags. Bag checking is for suckers.

This system broke down the second I found myself on the curb at LAX surrounded by my luggage and children, being eyed warily by those speedy carryon only business travelers who moved like I once could. I might have broken down crying right there if I hadn’t happened to glance over and see another woman standing on the curb looking less than confident. She had at least five big bags at her feet, three kids running around her, and three carseats to contend with. She also had a seabag at her feet, and I knew she was a fellow military spouse. When I finally got moving with all my crap, kids safely installed on the stroller contraption, I paused next to her — maybe to offer her some empathy, but mostly to get some for myself.

“Military?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said.
“Me too,” I told her.
“We’re moving,” she said, indicating all of her belongings.
“So are we!” I laughed, nodding at the bags hanging off every appendage. “Where are you headed?” I asked her.
“Hawaii!” she said, and looked really excited. Then her husband returned and picked up half the bags she had at her feet. I was glad to see that she had help. And sort of sad that I didn’t…but the Major was helping… he had found us a house, we just had to get there!
“Good luck!” I told her, as I shuffled on towards the curbside check in like a desperate Madison Avenue exec approaching the only bar for miles around. (I may have  watched too many episodes of Mad Men last night.)

I hope she’s gotten where she was headed and that her family is more settled than mine at this point. I’m just glad I bumped into her — even that casual exchange of words helped me remember that I’m not the only one struggling with all the difficulties that military life (hell, any life, really!) can present! There are lots of us out there, moms who make things happen for our families because we have no choice in the matter and because we can’t imagine NOT doing it. The airport experience wasn’t my favorite part of the journey, but it is one that I’ll remember because you know what? I did it!

When the Major picked us up on the other end and all our bags came off the baggage claim, he picked up a couple and struggled with how to hold half of it and manage the kids. “Wait a minute,” he said. “How did you carry all of this and the two kids by yourself on the other end?”

I told him the truth. I honestly don’t know! But somehow I managed it. Things work out when they have to.

I’m about halfway through my month-long PCS journey. (We’re moving across the country again, this time with our two little boys, and the process of selling the house, finding a new house to live in, and getting everyone there has become kind of a drawn out process.) To fill the time between leaving one place (a small desert town recently named “Satan’s Den” by a friend — not so much for any insidious activities occurring there as for the horrible weather and generally ridiculous heat) and arriving in the other, I’ve scheduled a tour of relative’s homes in the state we are leaving, since it’ll be a while before we get to see them all again. And, if I don’t spend too long with any one set of relatives, there’s a chance we might, someday, be invited back. All this has me basically living out of my trunk, calming confused little boys, and doing my best to keep their behavior at a moderate level of chaos so as not to frighten the relatives or have them too worried about the safety of their delicate possessions, carpets, drywall, etc.

Anyway, today is the first time I’ve found myself in front of a keyboard since departing Satan’s Den, and I have regretted not being able to get here to Call Sign Mommy more often. I haven’t been silent due to a lack of postable events!

My first stop has been with my parents, who stay at a cabin in the beautiful mountains all summer. I grew up in that cabin, really, and I’m so happy to have my little boys up there. But they are missing Daddy and they are confused about why we are here and haven’t gone back home, and it’s been a bit hard for all of us. Thankfully, my parents are patient and helpful — which hasn’t always been the case. Our first long visit, with Turbo almost 2, was not as successful. I suppose, when it’s been 35 years since you last spent significant time with a 2-year-old, you might forget why or how to love a being that is so messy, noisy, dangerous, unpredictable and downright illogical all of the time. But they came around. And Turbo is *mostly* a good little guy these days. There are even moments when he’s helpful. But his questions about our current situation are breaking my heart: “Mommy, is THIS our new house?” “Mommy, when can we go home?” “Mommy, when can I see my friends again?”

I’m actually at my parents “real” house alone now. I’ve come back down the hill to attend my *gasp* 20 year high school reunion. The Major is at the cabin and will come down to attend with me tonight. Since this is the first time in weeks that I’ve had a moment (let alone a whole day) to myself, I’m a little lost. And I initially told him not to hurry down to join me (thinking that I’d be reveling in the peace and quiet). But I find myself hoping he comes sooner. I think that when you spend your life catering to the near constant desires of tiny whiny people, all you really need is five minutes here and there to appreciate the silence. And after that, it starts to feel just wrong. (Although, I could certainly get used to it with some minimal effort!)

Anyway, sorry for the stream of consciousness… I didn’t have much of a plan when I sat down. The reunion should be pretty interesting tonight. Hope to see a keyboard (and you guys) again soon!

When you’re a de facto member of the military (married in, rather than volunteering per se), there are a lot of things that can take some getting used to. And I think I covered that, but please know that I claim whining as my right and there will probably be more of this down the road.

However, while it isn’t all roses and rainbows, there are a lot of benefits to being a military mom, too.

1) Auto-Friends: Okay, no one is ever automatically your friend, but how many times — in the ‘real’ world — do you move to a new home and find yourself invited to two or three social functions in the first week? How many times have you moved to a town you’ve never been to before (in my case, one you’ve never even heard of) and had not one, but two different families show up on your doorstep with baskets of food and tips about everything from where to get your hair done to where to put your kids in daycare? If you’re an extrovert, the military spouse network is heaven. There are spouses from all walks of life (and though I’m trying to be politically correct here by using “spouse,” let’s face it, they’re mostly wives), and from all parts of the globe. I am not exactly an extrovert, and I still found myself with a full social calendar almost immediately — and that meant a full social calendar for Turbo and Lunchbox, too.

I’ll make one more point about the women I have met in the military spouse sphere — they are not to be underestimated! They are tough, tenacious and experienced. Every time I have assumed that I knew something about someone based on the outer shell (how many kids they have, whether they work, how long they’ve been married — all the stuff we women like to judge each other on), I have been proven wrong in spades. The wealth of experience that this crowd brings to the table is overwhelming, and most of these ladies are humble enough to make you have to work a bit to find out what they’ve seen and done. And it’s impressive.

2) Having a baby? Welcome to your catered dinner menu for a month! When anything about the size of a breadbox comes out of your body, you’re bound to be tired and maybe even a bit crabby. Oh, and sore. And even though you’re probably also hungry, cooking ranks at about 997 on the list of things that you’d like to do in the days immediately following the event. And thanks to the network of wonderful women in the military spouse network, cooking was one thing I did NOT have to worry about. For WEEKS. Both times I had babies, those women showed up at my house in a veritable parade of culinary goodness. My family got used to gourmet cooking, and it was so fun to wonder what would arrive for dinner each night!

If you’re ever in a position to cook for someone who needs it (and these ladies arrange meal service for any reason you can imagine to help each other out), here are a couple tips: Should you bring dessert? Oh, yes please. Wine? Absopositively! And if you happen to have made too much, tossing in another freezable portion so that the new mom will have something on hand later is a great idea!

3) The Commissary and Exchange: (that’s the grocery store and general goods store). While the on base grocery offerings are usually more limited than those out in town, it’s worth stocking up there and hitting the local grocery just for the few items you didn’t find at the commissary. Shopping on base saves money. Not just a little bit of money — bunches. And if you’re lucky enough to be at a base that has a good exchange of a decent size, you can find everything from cosmetics to Coach bags to jewelry tax-free and discounted. That, my friends, is a benefit this shopper can appreciate!

4) Healthcare: While visiting the clinic isn’t always a joy, the fact that it is there when we need it speaks volumes. Vaccinations? Walk in. Sick kid? Call that morning, you can often get in within hours. No appointments? They’ll help you arrange to go to the urgent care, ER or to a doctor in town. It might not be as personal as having your own family doctor, but the doctors I’ve seen on base are largely caring and sweet, and are genuinely concerned about my family and my health. And if for some reason I want to go to a specialist? Referrals are pretty easy to get. Oh, and prescriptions? They’re free.

5) Childcare: This is a system that works well in theory. And for many, I think it works well in practice. I’ve been on lots of wait lists for childcare on base — it is very affordable compared to private local options. I’ve never actually been moved off the wait list, but I think that’s because I have not been persistent enough with follow up calls. (When you need childcare NOW, you end up making other arrangements, and I’ve been pretty happy with what we found off base for our guys.)

I could say so much more — other military moms, please feel free to add other thoughts in the comments! I will add one more benefit of being a military spouse/mommy:

6) Pride: I know most wives are proud of their husbands, and most kids adore their daddies. But when your hubby/daddy wears a uniform to work every day (even though I call the Major’s flight suit a “jumpsuit” which he does not appreciate…), I think it feels a little bit different kissing him goodbye and sending him on his way. That uniform is a reminder that he’s going out to work for your family, but also for a much bigger family — and one that doesn’t always appreciate him or remember to say “thank you.” My boys are still very little, but when Turbo tells people what his daddy does for work, his eyes glitter with pride as he describes the plane his daddy flies. And I admit to feeling a little pump of pride when I tell people that my husband is a Marine. That fact makes us all part of something bigger. And though we sacrifice a bit to be part of the military community, we are all part of something that makes this country special. And it is worth it.

But I’ll still be happy when the Major’s twenty years are up and we can settle down. And I don’t think that looking forward to that time takes away even one little bit from how lucky I feel to be married to a Marine right now.