As much as it pains me to admit this, I have to fess up and come clean on a few things.
Up until this point in my life, I have been a “revolving door” Army wife. Much like those Catholics who only seem to fill the pews on Christmas and Easter, I have been that wife who only shows up for the big Army to-dos.
For example, who doesn’t like buying a new dress, strapping on some high heels and getting dolled up?
I looked at military balls like a second chance, adult prom — a redo of sorts. Now the idea of squishing this postpartum twin body into a dress, let alone finding the time to find said dress, makes my eye twitch.
Not to mention I have to think about childcare on a Wednesday night. Let’s not even talk about the list of people I trust to watch my twinterage.
Amazing the difference a year makes.
Before I became a mom, I used to enjoy going out to a restaurant for the quarterly hail and farewell.
I looked forward to someone else cooking my dinner. Now when my husband announces there is one coming up, we have a very different conversation: “How much is it going to cost us to eat cold food with one hand?” and “Are you sure you want me and the kids to come with you? I mean it’s 6 p.m. It’s their witching hour. They have a routine and this is going to throw them off. Are we going to be ‘those’ parents with ‘those’ kids in public?”
No one likes going out to dinner and being sat next to fussy babies or have their speech interrupted by over-tired cries.
In my previous life, if I couldn’t attend a function, I had a pass because I was inevitably working. I couldn’t go to the morning change of command because I was either in a meeting or out covering an event, and the Family Readiness Group meeting was during my newspaper deadline.
It’s a whole new ball game for me nowadays.
My husband will take command of his first company Friday and now more than ever it’s important I support my spouse, kids and all. With this new position in his career, It’s important for us to present ourselves as a unified front and that we have our lives together. Ha! I am terrified that my kids will either spit-up, have a blow out or go into melt down mode just as we are introducing ourselves to my husband’s new boss. Talk about making a killer first impression in the receiving line.
Getting dressed for these kinds of events used to be a no-brainer.
If I opened up my closet door and deduced I had nothing to wear, I’d run to the mall and pick something up.
Sigh, such a novel thought.
I’m usually covered in spit-up with a burp cloth tucked into my yoga pats and my favorite accessory is the pacifier pursed between my lips as I search for the one the dog already claimed as his. All I can do now is hope that something appropriate fits me and that I can get through the pomp and circumstance without bodily fluid from the twins getting on me.
It is really easy to forget that life actually existed before the twins and I find myself trying to balance my domestic responsibilities with my new commander’s wife expectations.
No one starts a new job and excels at it right away. I am finding this rings true for stay-at-home parents. Being a domestic CEO or a Household 6 doesn’t happen automatically.
Becoming a stay-at-home mother meant saying goodbye to a large part of my identity.
I had a title, status. If someone asked me what I did, I could just say “I’m an editor,” and I had instant credibility.
After leaving “active duty,” when someone asked what I did and I said I stayed at home, it was met with an “Oh, that’s nice.”
I am trying to conquer my new world as quickly and completely as I can. I’ll succeed too, sleep deprived and all, it just depends on your definition.