Love is a funny thing. We celebrate it when it begins.  We write books and screenplays about when it starts. When it’s new and exciting, we write songs.  We have butterflies in our stomach and everything is that much gentler.  We slow dance in the rain and make grand gestures, we are mostly blind to everything and helpless in our infatuation. It`s terrifying and beautiful and wonderful. And it doesn`t last. Because we stop celebrating love when it`s comfortable. Songs aren`t composed about the 2nd decade of marriage.  There`s no ballad of the dirty hair and sweatpants Saturday, mowing the lawn and washing the toilets.   No one is making a movie where the climax is finding the Lego piece that was absolutely irreplaceable amongst all the dried food and dog hair in the vacuum bag.  There`s no short story about  the time when you realize the fight you had in the morning isn`t even worth making up over because you both forgot you were mad at each other by bedtime. But the truth is, anyone can fall in love. There’s no sacrifice in falling in love.  You aren’t giving anything to your lover by becoming infatuated with them.  When two people fall in love with each other, it is inherently selfish. You need them, and you want to spend time with them. For the most part, falling in love is not a choice and it is almost entirely about you.  I can still remember the 18 year old kids, music blasting out of our car, dancing in the parking lot of a park at midnight.  He’s already been gone for 3 months at Basic…

(UPDATE: The following is a loose transcript of  the speech that I gave at the Invisible Ribbon Gala at CFB Trenton on May 3rd, 2014.  I was asked to speak on why  military families still needed support following the end of Canada’s major contribution to the war in Afghanistan.  As life would have it, my husband deployed for a different war 5 months later, making the point I was trying to emphasis that much clearer. It is my opinion and my story, nothing more.  And there are so many more out there with stories to share, mine is not any more unique or special. I am so appreciative of how well it was received, I am blown away by your response and grateful I could make a small difference for the evening.  Thank you.) If I have learned one thing in the time that it has been my privilege to write and speak as a military spouse, it is the vast diversity of our community. That diversity is seen when a Combat Arms family moves from Edmonton to a logistics base in Kingston.  The first time Dh left in civilian clothes and a rolling suitcase, I was worried he was just leaving us.  Apparently he told me, suitcases and hotel rooms are how the Air Force rolls.  He was being snarky, but I was thinking he had picked the wrong gig then! It is seen when I find myself explaining the difference between a LAV and a Tank to the spouse who has just corrected my use of the word ‘boat’ to describe her husband’s ship. And it is seen here today, as my husband sits in his scarlets and spurs at this Air Force museum. It perhaps hit me the hardest several years…

Last week I walked around in a little bit of a haze. The whole working 30 hours a week plus keeping a house that was used to having mom home is starting to wear thin. Dh left for a week as a pre-course to his upcoming 6 week training this spring. I planned and booked my flights next month for a necessary work trip.  Which means, for the first time ever I will be leaving Dh with the kids overnight.  For a week. Then I learned that my trip meant I will be away for the National Day of Honour for Afghanistan, and it started to weigh heavy that I won’t be around.  I’ve always been available, all the time, anytime, for my husband.  But this time I won’t be. And he doesn’t care.  He doesn’t see things like ‘Days of Honour’ as being for anyone other than those who are gone. And he isn’t at all concerned that I won’t be around for one. I care. I so care. School is wrapping up soon. Drama is in Running Club which means, well, so am I. Freckles is starting every day to remind me more and more that he is almost a teenager. Monster had just barely transitioned to being used to Dh away when Dh came home. So that I can then go away.  And then Dh will leave again. The whole time I thought: This week.  I got this week. I could do this week with my hands tied behind my back. About part way through the week I was a puddle.  I was a stress case with 3 jobs and too many…

About 3 months ago, I was going to start a series on what it’s like to be a woman starting to take martial arts classes. I was going to write a short piece here and then send in the rest to the Wives of Faith website I write for, since I said I would write on fitness.  It was supposed to be my fierce explanation bout how I confidently overcame my misgivings and walked into a room of men and learned martial arts with them.  Because this is 2014 and women can do these things and so can I.  I’ve watched the UFC, those girls are strong and impressive and I am never going to be a mixed martial arts fighter of any kind, but I can learn sports.  I like learning sports.  Bring it on! The fact that the series should already be finished by now is an indication of how well that is going…. It’s been a long journey just to get here. About year ago I started attending a gym that offered fitness classes, as well as various classes in several different martial arts, for both kids and adults. My kids take Brazilian Jiu Jitsu (BJJ) and Mixed Martial Arts (MMA), Dh and I take the fitness classes like kettle bells and fitness kickboxing and TRX. We should almost move in, there are days I feel bad for them every time we show up in this big loud family group. There was a comfort level required with the people who work there that I needed before I could try any of the martial arts.  It took a long time for me to trust them enough to think I could walk into their class having…

April is the month of the Military Child. I mean, there’s a month for everything, right?  So why not one for them? It’s actually not even a thing in Canada as far as I know, but we’re going to go ahead and steal it from the USofA for the purpose of this blog post.  I don’t think they will mind, the Americans I know are actually much nicer than we tend to give them credit for. Let me start off by saying that kids in any circumstance, are special. Farmer’s kids are amazingly resiliant at sleeping in combine’s come harvest time. First Responder’s kids spend nights worrying about dad every time they hear a siren. Pastor’s kids get dragged to every single church potluck and hugged by strangers. And kids who’s parent’s work in banks, in fertilizer plants, in prisons and in offices, they have all learned very special ways to adapt to their own life. But I have Military Kids. So that’s what this is about. When April comes around, I see quite a few posts going around the Social Media World. And they started like this: ‘Your average military brat…..’. And I think… Is there an average military child? Some kids, like my husband, will move 5 or 6 times in their life. Accross the country and across the world, they will watch the trucks pack up their life and they will make new friends and learn what TV shows are cool in which crowds.  They will adapt to different playgrounds and different teachers.  Sometimes they will even adapt to a different language. And other military kids, they…

On March 30th, 1918 in a Battle lead by General Seely, Canadian forces including the Lord Strathcona’s Horse fought for Moreuil Wood against the Germans. Despite crippling odds, the Canadian troops fought both mounted on horses and in hand to hand combat, at the end of the day victorious with hundreds of thousands killed, wounded or missing. The battle of Moreuil Wood is one that I am sad to admit I would have known nothing about had it not been for my husband’s job.  For a member of Lord Strathcona’s Horse (RC), the battle marks an important piece of Regimental history and includes a Parade and for some, Mess Dinners and other festivities. The history of the battle, the key players, the victories and the losses, are usually read out at a parade by a solider assigned.  The famous rallying cry of  Lt Gordon Flowerdew rings out over the parade hall acoustics: “It’s a charge, boys, it’s a charge!” The losses of the battle are staggering, with over 200 000 allied forces killed, wounded or MIA.  And Lt. Flowerdew, who was killed in the battle with his men, received his Victoria Cross posthumously. And yet, it was a victory and the war was won and that means that on Saturday night I sat at a formal dinner surrounded by soldiers who ate and drank and reminisced. And I wonder if those men on that battlefield, the only 51 soldiers from LdSH(RC) left still standing when the dust settled, could have imagined that this is how we would remember.  With our dressiest clothes and fanciest silverware, fine food and Port to toast the fallen. I’m sure they did not.  In…

Canada’s war effort in Afghanistan ends this week. It seems like it really ended a while ago.  In 2011 the combat portion of our commitment to the war ended, and since DH is a combat soldier, that was when it all changed for us. But this week, this week we are going to hear all the opinions as the ‘last’ Canadian soldiers come home. I say ‘last’ because there are still some there.  And still some heading there.  And I hate that those families will watch these ‘Final Homecomings’ on TV while wondering why they don’t apply to them.  And for the next 6 months or however long their loved one is deployed, they will answer to everyone as they say to them ‘but I thought the war was over?’ If you watch any TV or read any news, you will see the mini reports and the specials about what it has all meant. And you might, I won’t assume you will but you might do as as many, many others have over the past while, and ask us what we think of it all. And if you do there’s a good chance that because it will take me a while to respond, you will probably tell me how I feel. You will tell me how thrilled I must be now, knowing that it’s “all over”. You might even tell me that you ‘Support the Troops‘ but are happy that this war, that never should have started, is all done so that we can move on. And that’s funny, because I was there in 2001 when those planes hit and many of…

It’s been a week. A week of melted microwaves and tax filing and job hunting and the kind of parenting that makes you feel like you are walking around with a big failure hat on. BUT, it was also my birthday on Monday! And I got myself a mug. I’ve had this mug before, then I gave it away when we moved.  But then I found one, sitting at a novelty shop all alone here in town, and I scooped it right up! Because yay! When it’s cold, Jesus Saves and He has coupons and scissors. When it’s hot, Jesus Shaves, His beard disappears and He has a razor. It’s a fabulous mug, and every time I look at it I smile a little. How could you NOT like this mug?  I just think it needs to be shared with the world.  So I found where it is sold online so I could give one away! For my birthday, I would like to brighten YOUR day! I’m GIVING AWAY a Jesus Mug to a reader as a Thank You for being awesome! Just tell me something that made you smile this week.  I could use some borrowed smiles!  Leave me a comment.  Maybe you saw an adorable and tenacious 3 legged kitten.  Or someone gave you a flower.  Or you found $5 in your pocket that you didn’t know you had.  What made your week a little sweeter? Use the little Rafflecopter thingy to let me know you did so they can be in charge of who won.  Cause otherwise it would be all up to me and I don’t want the pressure . Then…

Dear Daughter, I can see you watching me. On Mondays and Wednesdays, after your MMA class is done, you sit out of the way and you wait with your brothers for your dad and I to finish our Kickboxing class. When we started, I had a very romanticized version in my head of what this would look like.  Not only would we be instilling the importance of physical activity in you as a child, you would be able to see it lived out in our lives, too!  Not just do as we say but do as we do!  Parenting win! And then yesterday, as I was looking dishearteningly in the huge mirrors during class, adjusting my pants, I caught your eyes. Your eyes were on me. And you weren’t seeing me confidently rocking roundhouse kicks or sprints or push ups. You were seeing me try and adjust my clothes so that roll of fat at my belly wouldn’t show so much. After class in the change room, your question was hard for me to hear. “Mom, why are you always looking in the mirror in class?” Let me tell you the truth, my love. It’s because I need you to do as I say, not as I do. I feel like I am failing the battle of self-confidence in my head every single day.  Instead of standing in defiance of fitspiration and thinspiration, of ‘motivational’ shaming and the world where the pretty thin girl is always the one in the romance movie to get the boy, I cave. My heart, deep down, can’t shake that you-don’t-look-good-enough-to-do-this attitude. My head, it tells me I don…