I penned this the evening of June 30th, shortly after learning about the deaths of 19 firefighters in Arizona.
Showing posts with label firefighter's wife. Show all posts
Showing posts with label firefighter's wife. Show all posts
Tuesday, July 2, 2013
Wednesday, December 19, 2012
Visiting the FireHouse
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| trying to reach the leaves |
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| Mom! It's time to go in! |
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| Daddy cooking dinner for the FireHouse. And us. |
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| watching Daddy go on a run |
Tuesday, October 23, 2012
My husband is in Haiti
He left four days ago. He comes back five days from now.
I miss him. So much.
He went with his brothers on a mission trip in honor of their father, who passed away this past Spring. They will be helping to re-build part of an orphanage that was destroyed during the 2010 Earthquake.
They have spotty internet. And he's managed to get texts to me, but for some reason doesn't get my replies.
I had a horrible feeling the week before he left. Like he wasn't coming back. Like he was leaving me forever. It was awful.
And then... they flew to Miami, but their flight from Miami to Port Au Prince was cancelled after spending over an hour on the runway. After a very long & frustrating day, the boys flew out the next morning.
I can't explain it, but my anxieties were alleviated the minute I knew their flight was cancelled. Maybe it's just a coincidence. Maybe it just gave my subconscious a reason to feel better.
Or maybe my intuition told me there was something wrong with that flight. And was right.
Honestly, I don't care which one it is. What I do care about is that what few updates I've gotten tell me that my husband arrived safely in Haiti, and so far is fine.
And misses me.
I can't wait till he gets home.
You'd think, being a firefighter's wife, being used to him being gone, this would be no biggie.
You'd be wrong.
I miss him. So much.
He went with his brothers on a mission trip in honor of their father, who passed away this past Spring. They will be helping to re-build part of an orphanage that was destroyed during the 2010 Earthquake.
They have spotty internet. And he's managed to get texts to me, but for some reason doesn't get my replies.
I had a horrible feeling the week before he left. Like he wasn't coming back. Like he was leaving me forever. It was awful.
And then... they flew to Miami, but their flight from Miami to Port Au Prince was cancelled after spending over an hour on the runway. After a very long & frustrating day, the boys flew out the next morning.
I can't explain it, but my anxieties were alleviated the minute I knew their flight was cancelled. Maybe it's just a coincidence. Maybe it just gave my subconscious a reason to feel better.
Or maybe my intuition told me there was something wrong with that flight. And was right.
Honestly, I don't care which one it is. What I do care about is that what few updates I've gotten tell me that my husband arrived safely in Haiti, and so far is fine.
And misses me.
I can't wait till he gets home.
You'd think, being a firefighter's wife, being used to him being gone, this would be no biggie.
You'd be wrong.
Thursday, December 22, 2011
I am a Fire Wife. It's my Life Too.
So many fellow fire wives have already written about this. Heck, maybe I already have and just don't remember.
So the question / issue is: why do I identify myself by my husband's occupation?
I mean, it's not like the wives of my co-workers go around calling themselves "engineer wife", or my mom ever called herself a "machinist wife", or later a "bus driver wife".
Nope.
The phenomenon seems almost exclusively limited to rescue and military wives. Fire wives. Police wives. Army wives.
I am a fire wife. Why? Because it's my life too.
When we were dating, Jason was a volunteer firefighter, and a volunteer rescue & recovery diver with the local water rescue team. And that in & of itself creates a level of acceptance and... difference... between your life, even when you are dating, that just isn't "normal"*
* I personally hate the word "normal", but I struggled to find a better word, and I know ya'll know what I mean
Getting paged in the middle of the night, in the middle of our date, was just part of life.
When he applied for, and got offered the job of full-time firefighter (the same position he is in now), and we knew our relationship was headed toward marriage, he respected our relationship enough to sit down with me for "the talk".
I accepted his new position. I was happy for him. I accepted what this would mean for our life together, even if I didn't fully comprehend it. Yet.
The fact is, when he became a full-time firefighter and we moved in together, my life changed too.
No more would my significant other be available every weekend. He would be free every third weekend. And due to Murphy's Law it was likely that Water Rescue would often want him on that weekend.
No more would my significant other be guaranteed to be off every national holiday. In fact, every third year he was guaranteed to work most of them. For all 24 hours, not just the first eight.
My husband would miss Christmases, anniversaries, birthdays.
Near the end of my pregnancy, when I was put on modified bedrest, I would need a backup (my mom) who could stay with me when he was on shift. Because he wasn't just gone during the day. He'd be gone overnight till the next day.
I learn to do things myself, to wrangle the house and a preschooler, and handle things solo. It's what I do.
I am a fire wife.
I attend family events alone. I attend work events alone.
My girlfriends don't understand that just because they schedule a night out during the evening or on a weekend doesn't mean that my husband will be available to watch Jena so I can come. In fact, that darn Murphy's Law means that most likely he'll be on shift that very night.
It means that at least a third of the nights* when I come home from work, and a third of the weekends, no, I do not have my spouse to help me with my daughter, help me make dinner, complete household chores, or heck just be there with me. It's just me and her.
* and that doesn't count the extra shifts, the mandatory doubles, the phone calls (like the one I just got) telling me he'll have to stay longer than planned
I am a fire wife.
It also means that the firehouse is as much a second home to myself and Jena as it is to Jason.
It means a wonderful community of people who get you, even when you don't get yourself.
It means knowing my husband's schedule, for the next five years. Even if it does suck.
It means he can take one day off, and actually get five days off (from the fire dept, not including his 2nd job or his business).
It means my husband has learned how to cook for 20+ people, and is actually a better cook than I am (not saying much, but still...).
It means seeing my husband fulfill his dreams, and knowing that I'm a big part of what made that happen.
I am a fire wife.
Yes, it's tough.A lot Most of the time. But there are a lot of good things about it too.
So you see, I call myself a FireWife because it's not just his life, it's my life too.
***************
this post inspired by my own life, but actually writing it down triggered by reading posts such as this
So the question / issue is: why do I identify myself by my husband's occupation?
I mean, it's not like the wives of my co-workers go around calling themselves "engineer wife", or my mom ever called herself a "machinist wife", or later a "bus driver wife".
Nope.
The phenomenon seems almost exclusively limited to rescue and military wives. Fire wives. Police wives. Army wives.
I am a fire wife. Why? Because it's my life too.
When we were dating, Jason was a volunteer firefighter, and a volunteer rescue & recovery diver with the local water rescue team. And that in & of itself creates a level of acceptance and... difference... between your life, even when you are dating, that just isn't "normal"*
* I personally hate the word "normal", but I struggled to find a better word, and I know ya'll know what I mean
Getting paged in the middle of the night, in the middle of our date, was just part of life.
When he applied for, and got offered the job of full-time firefighter (the same position he is in now), and we knew our relationship was headed toward marriage, he respected our relationship enough to sit down with me for "the talk".
I accepted his new position. I was happy for him. I accepted what this would mean for our life together, even if I didn't fully comprehend it. Yet.
The fact is, when he became a full-time firefighter and we moved in together, my life changed too.
No more would my significant other be available every weekend. He would be free every third weekend. And due to Murphy's Law it was likely that Water Rescue would often want him on that weekend.
No more would my significant other be guaranteed to be off every national holiday. In fact, every third year he was guaranteed to work most of them. For all 24 hours, not just the first eight.
My husband would miss Christmases, anniversaries, birthdays.
Near the end of my pregnancy, when I was put on modified bedrest, I would need a backup (my mom) who could stay with me when he was on shift. Because he wasn't just gone during the day. He'd be gone overnight till the next day.
I learn to do things myself, to wrangle the house and a preschooler, and handle things solo. It's what I do.
I am a fire wife.
I attend family events alone. I attend work events alone.
My girlfriends don't understand that just because they schedule a night out during the evening or on a weekend doesn't mean that my husband will be available to watch Jena so I can come. In fact, that darn Murphy's Law means that most likely he'll be on shift that very night.
It means that at least a third of the nights* when I come home from work, and a third of the weekends, no, I do not have my spouse to help me with my daughter, help me make dinner, complete household chores, or heck just be there with me. It's just me and her.
* and that doesn't count the extra shifts, the mandatory doubles, the phone calls (like the one I just got) telling me he'll have to stay longer than planned
I am a fire wife.
It also means that the firehouse is as much a second home to myself and Jena as it is to Jason.
It means a wonderful community of people who get you, even when you don't get yourself.
It means knowing my husband's schedule, for the next five years. Even if it does suck.
It means he can take one day off, and actually get five days off (from the fire dept, not including his 2nd job or his business).
It means my husband has learned how to cook for 20+ people, and is actually a better cook than I am (not saying much, but still...).
It means seeing my husband fulfill his dreams, and knowing that I'm a big part of what made that happen.
I am a fire wife.
Yes, it's tough.
So you see, I call myself a FireWife because it's not just his life, it's my life too.
***************
this post inspired by my own life, but actually writing it down triggered by reading posts such as this
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Hunny, I am not "just" anything (edited)
originally posted in July 2009
The word, "just", can be such an awful, degrading word. By injecting that simple, little word in to the sentence, you decrease the value of what or whom you are talking about.
The truth of the matter is that none of us are "just" anything.
In the workplace, those of us that are in support positions, usually lower on the totem pole, are generally taking care of the things that make it possible for those higher on the totem pole to do their work effectively.
That's right. "Just" admins keep your office operating smoothly.
In a family setting, being "just" a mom means that you are holding what is quite possibly the greatest responsibility in the world. Literally. You are raising the next generation of people that will eventually take over this world. You are raising a human being. Think about it... What an enormous task!
Being "just" a wife means that you have committed your life to another person, for life. That, in and of itself, is worthy of applause. Add to that the fact that you are your husband's primary support on his journey thru life, and being "just" a wife takes on a lot more consequence.
Being "just" a girl means... what? That people like you make up over half of the world's population? That you are a person with endless possibilities for the future? Being a girl is awesome.
And yes, so is being a boy.
Being "just" a child means that you have your entire life ahead of you, and the time to make it whatever you want it to be. The possibilities are endless. No child should ever feel like he is "just a kid".
By the way, we all have our lives ahead of us, to make it into whatever we want it to be.
Besides all that, we all hold many titles. Let's see. I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a niece, a granddaughter, a cousin, a friend, an employee, a coworker, a volunteer, a blogger, a scuba-diver, a coupon-clipper, a pet owner, a trumpet player, etc, etc, etc. The list could go on & on & on. As it could for each of us. You see, I am not "just" anything. I am everything.
And so are you.
The word, "just", can be such an awful, degrading word. By injecting that simple, little word in to the sentence, you decrease the value of what or whom you are talking about.
The truth of the matter is that none of us are "just" anything.
In the workplace, those of us that are in support positions, usually lower on the totem pole, are generally taking care of the things that make it possible for those higher on the totem pole to do their work effectively.
That's right. "Just" admins keep your office operating smoothly.
In a family setting, being "just" a mom means that you are holding what is quite possibly the greatest responsibility in the world. Literally. You are raising the next generation of people that will eventually take over this world. You are raising a human being. Think about it... What an enormous task!
Being "just" a wife means that you have committed your life to another person, for life. That, in and of itself, is worthy of applause. Add to that the fact that you are your husband's primary support on his journey thru life, and being "just" a wife takes on a lot more consequence.
Being "just" a girl means... what? That people like you make up over half of the world's population? That you are a person with endless possibilities for the future? Being a girl is awesome.
And yes, so is being a boy.
Being "just" a child means that you have your entire life ahead of you, and the time to make it whatever you want it to be. The possibilities are endless. No child should ever feel like he is "just a kid".
By the way, we all have our lives ahead of us, to make it into whatever we want it to be.
Besides all that, we all hold many titles. Let's see. I am a wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a niece, a granddaughter, a cousin, a friend, an employee, a coworker, a volunteer, a blogger, a scuba-diver, a coupon-clipper, a pet owner, a trumpet player, etc, etc, etc. The list could go on & on & on. As it could for each of us. You see, I am not "just" anything. I am everything.
And so are you.
Saturday, September 24, 2011
Thursday, September 22, 2011
Mini-vacation Part 1: Drag Races
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| FireMan & I went with some guys from the FD and their wives |
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| best outfit of the day: swim trunk & cowboy boots |
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Thursday, August 11, 2011
What are you trying to prove ??
A while back, Nota wrote a great post entitled Walking Away from the Proving Grounds.
I love this post.
Why? Because I think it's something every single one of us can relate to.
Oh, sure, Nota's post is specifically about running. And Lord knows I'm not a runner.
But as a young musician I once cancelled my audition for the conservatory the day before, because I realized I didn't need to prove myself to anyone.
While most people in my real life know that I play the trumpet, what relatively few know is that I used to be quite good.
I trained my entire junior high & high school years for a career in music. Classical music, specifically.
My family hadlimited no funds to really support my endeavour, so I saved my allowances to pay for private lessons. I bought my own books, did my own research. And practiced. I spent God-knows-how-many hours practicing in our basement. Lord, did I practice.
By all means I had nowhere near the book knowledge of classical music, music history, etc. as many of my student-colleagues. But I was good.
Quite frankly, I was darn good.
My teenage years I practiced daily, performed several times a month, and had the privilege to perform in several different states around the country.
I became known.
In certain circles, anyway.
You know, when you meet someone completely new, in a totally different, non-musical environment, and they cock their head and say "hey, aren't you that trumpet chick?"
Why yes, Iam was.
I loved it. I loved music. I loved making music.
But I digress.
As I progressed, thenatural normal society- and- education- imposed progress is to compete. In ensembles. By yourself. Against others. Against yourself. You allow others to judge you. You allow experts to judge your performance.
You prove yourself. To the experts. To your colleagues. To yourself.
And that's what I did. And I did well at the competitions. Somewhere in my parents' home are the trophies and badges and ribbons to prove it.
But sometime during my senior year of high school, as I was desparately saving every penny (it was not uncommon for me to pay my tudor in change, bless his heart) to pay for lessons to prepare for my conservatory auditions... well, somewhere in there... I had an epiphany.
My audience loved my music.
Do you know, in marching band, I once had a woman tell me that my solo was so moving it made her cry? A chick in a marching band uniform standing on a football field played so beautifully it made her cry?!?
I was regularly told how people were moved to tears. That I gave them chills. That I was blessing them. That they were touched by my performance.
So why then... did I care... if some judge, any judge, any expert... thought I was good at all? Why did I care if I was marked down, yet again, for my embouchre, which was never what it "should" be? And really, why was I still seeking a career in music, if as an amateur, a teenager even, I could invoke such a reaction from my audience?
I fought a philosophical war with myself for weeks. This is what I had prepared my whole life to do. This was all I knew. If I didn't allow this judging to continue, and enter school for music... then... what would I do?!?
But I already had my answer. And when it came down to pressure time, the night before my audition, I called and cancelled.
After I graduated from high school, I stopped playing for two months. I never intended to stop altogether. Just needed a sabbatical, of sorts.
Eventually (and a long story of how it happened later), I joined my university marching band, and played to my heart's content.
And then basketball band. And then concert band.
And then I took so many music courses that by the time I graduated I was fairly close to having my minor in music.
But mostly, I just enjoyed being a band nerd.
Because I liked making music. And when it came to the music part of band, I no longer had anything to prove.
*********************
So that's probably my biggest single story of walking away from the proving grounds. Of realizing that I don't always have to prove something.
There is balance in there though. I am not nearly the musician I was when I was proving myself to the world. And there is beauty in that achievement.
I think the most difficult part of any journey is finding that balance. Of proving yourself, and enjoying the moment, enjoying the accomplishment. Of jumping in when you're ready (and sometimes when you're not), and walking away when you sense that that part of your life is over.
We all prove ourselves in different ways. I still sometimes find myself struggling to prove myself as a wife & mother. Mostly to myself, but somewhat to others.
And with the variety of supervisors I've had at work lately, I've found myself in the unsavory position of having to re-prove myself in the workplace, repeatedly, over the past several months.
We all do it. It's part of life. And like any journey, sometimes it's about knowing when to get on the highway, and when to take that off-ramp to the next destination.
I love this post.
Why? Because I think it's something every single one of us can relate to.
Oh, sure, Nota's post is specifically about running. And Lord knows I'm not a runner.
But as a young musician I once cancelled my audition for the conservatory the day before, because I realized I didn't need to prove myself to anyone.
While most people in my real life know that I play the trumpet, what relatively few know is that I used to be quite good.
I trained my entire junior high & high school years for a career in music. Classical music, specifically.
My family had
By all means I had nowhere near the book knowledge of classical music, music history, etc. as many of my student-colleagues. But I was good.
Quite frankly, I was darn good.
My teenage years I practiced daily, performed several times a month, and had the privilege to perform in several different states around the country.
I became known.
In certain circles, anyway.
You know, when you meet someone completely new, in a totally different, non-musical environment, and they cock their head and say "hey, aren't you that trumpet chick?"
Why yes, I
I loved it. I love
But I digress.
As I progressed, the
You prove yourself. To the experts. To your colleagues. To yourself.
And that's what I did. And I did well at the competitions. Somewhere in my parents' home are the trophies and badges and ribbons to prove it.
But sometime during my senior year of high school, as I was desparately saving every penny (it was not uncommon for me to pay my tudor in change, bless his heart) to pay for lessons to prepare for my conservatory auditions... well, somewhere in there... I had an epiphany.
My audience loved my music.
Do you know, in marching band, I once had a woman tell me that my solo was so moving it made her cry? A chick in a marching band uniform standing on a football field played so beautifully it made her cry?!?
I was regularly told how people were moved to tears. That I gave them chills. That I was blessing them. That they were touched by my performance.
So why then... did I care... if some judge, any judge, any expert... thought I was good at all? Why did I care if I was marked down, yet again, for my embouchre, which was never what it "should" be? And really, why was I still seeking a career in music, if as an amateur, a teenager even, I could invoke such a reaction from my audience?
I fought a philosophical war with myself for weeks. This is what I had prepared my whole life to do. This was all I knew. If I didn't allow this judging to continue, and enter school for music... then... what would I do?!?
But I already had my answer. And when it came down to pressure time, the night before my audition, I called and cancelled.
After I graduated from high school, I stopped playing for two months. I never intended to stop altogether. Just needed a sabbatical, of sorts.
Eventually (and a long story of how it happened later), I joined my university marching band, and played to my heart's content.
And then basketball band. And then concert band.
And then I took so many music courses that by the time I graduated I was fairly close to having my minor in music.
But mostly, I just enjoyed being a band nerd.
Because I like
*********************
So that's probably my biggest single story of walking away from the proving grounds. Of realizing that I don't always have to prove something.
There is balance in there though. I am not nearly the musician I was when I was proving myself to the world. And there is beauty in that achievement.
I think the most difficult part of any journey is finding that balance. Of proving yourself, and enjoying the moment, enjoying the accomplishment. Of jumping in when you're ready (and sometimes when you're not), and walking away when you sense that that part of your life is over.
We all prove ourselves in different ways. I still sometimes find myself struggling to prove myself as a wife & mother. Mostly to myself, but somewhat to others.
And with the variety of supervisors I've had at work lately, I've found myself in the unsavory position of having to re-prove myself in the workplace, repeatedly, over the past several months.
We all do it. It's part of life. And like any journey, sometimes it's about knowing when to get on the highway, and when to take that off-ramp to the next destination.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Spread the Happy
Okay everyone. Spread the happy. Play along. Spread the happy.
**************************
I am so happy that we were blessed to be able to take a short family trip together two weekends ago. One night at a state park in Kentucky, but still. So very blessed for such a wonderful time.
**************************
I am happy that my workload seems to be easing (somewhat) at work, and I'm actually making headway on some of my projects.
**************************
I am happy to be a mom. And a wife. It's my joy in life.
most of the time - ha!
**************************
I am thankful for good friends, who invite me over with my toddler, even though they don't have any kids of their own.
**************************
I am thankful (and thus happy) that Jason took Jena out of the house to run an errand the other night when I wasn't feeling well, having some more of my "digestive issues".
Just being able to deal with them without also dealing with a toddler, and then being able to lie down on the couch in peace, even if for just a bit, was soooooooo nice. Thank you Jason!
***************************
I am happy for our beautiful yard. Looking out thru the kitchen window early in the morning might just be my favorite view. I'll have to remember to take a pic and post it for ya.
***************************
And a few of my favorite blog postings from the past week or so:
Someone Get Them a Dictionary
because it's funny
Honoring a Marriage that is Over
because it's real
Where I Confess about my Morning Routine
because it's... human. and because I can relate all too well
MODe(e)rn Boy's Room
because she's talented in ways that I am not... but wish I were
*****************************
What's making you happy?
Monday, June 20, 2011
THAT place
If I didn't have to go to that place, I wouldn't be so exhausted & stressed at the end of the day that I end up reaching my breaking points wtih my family later on.
I hate it. I resent it. I resent the time it takes away from me, time I could be spending with my family, for my family.
If it weren't for that place, I could be with my family more. I could be home with FireGirl. I could be home with FireMan on his days off.
Resentment is especially strong when FireMan works on a weekend. For instance, let's say:
he's off on Friday, but I'm working, then
he works on Saturday, but I'm off, then
we're both off on Sunday, which is great, but let's face it, after church, lunch, then home for FireGirl's naptime...
well, you get the picture.
If I didn't have to go to that place, I could be home with him on that Friday. As one example.
And even when my loves aren't home, I could be doing things at home. Like actually catching up on laundry. Finally organizing the kitchen cupboards. Using my new drillin' skills. Taking FireGirl to the park more. Taking her to the library. Playdates. Classes. So many things.
If I didn't have to go to that place.
I hate it. I resent it. I resent the time it takes away from me, time I could be spending with my family, for my family.
If it weren't for that place, I could be with my family more. I could be home with FireGirl. I could be home with FireMan on his days off.
Resentment is especially strong when FireMan works on a weekend. For instance, let's say:
he's off on Friday, but I'm working, then
he works on Saturday, but I'm off, then
we're both off on Sunday, which is great, but let's face it, after church, lunch, then home for FireGirl's naptime...
well, you get the picture.
If I didn't have to go to that place, I could be home with him on that Friday. As one example.
And even when my loves aren't home, I could be doing things at home. Like actually catching up on laundry. Finally organizing the kitchen cupboards. Using my new drillin' skills. Taking FireGirl to the park more. Taking her to the library. Playdates. Classes. So many things.
If I didn't have to go to that place.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Supermom has left the building.
or that's how I feel at least.
I cried on my way to work this morning. Because I hate who I am weekday mornings. Rushing around, ushering FireGirl to get up, eat her breakfast, get dressed, and out the door.
Even on days we don't fight, which are the majority anymore (thank the Lord!), I still hate who I am on those mornings.
It feels so... cold, so unfeeling. I swear I don't even think I saw FireMan this morning, till I was hurriedly pulling out the driveway.
It's get up, do this, c'mon, I said "do this", are you doing this?, why aren't you doing this?
It stresses me. It stresses her.
I hate who I am weekday mornings.
So I cried on my way to work this morning. Because I hated who I was at that moment.
But I don't know how else to do it. How else do you get up and get yourself and a toddler ready in the morning? It's so busy, so go-go-go.
I hate it. I hate me. Or the me I've become. On weekdays.
You know, I used to be a good employee too.
I was a great employee. I came early whenever they needed me to. Stayed late if anyone asked. My longest day was 6am-11:30pm, with no breaks except for lunch. Straight work. And I loved it. People depended on me, and I got stuff done.
Now? Please. Well, even if I could figure out how to get out the door sooner, I can't get there too early, because I'd have to wait until I could drop FireGirl off. And I can't stay too late because I have to pick her up.
So those days are definitely over.
My focus is split. I don't love my job anymore. I'm starting to hate it. Because of how it affects the rest of me. I hate the fact that I'm the way I am in the mornings because I'm going to that place. If I didn't have to go to that place, we wouldn't have to rush around, I wouldn't be ushering FireGirl around the house, urging her to eat her breakfast, begging her to let me dress her, fighting with her about getting in the car.
Ugh. I hate it. I who I am on weekdays. I really do.
I seriously considered texting FireMan when I got to work this morning and telling him I was putting in my two weeks notice. And meaning it.
I have no idea how we would make it financially, but...
I just feel like something's gotta give.
And it can't be my family. So...
I was a good employee, until I became a mom.
I'm a great mom, when I'm not trying to be a mediocre or better employee.
And in-between all that I'm desperately trying to be a satisfactory wife.
But... it's not working. Twenty-six months later, 26 months of trying, 26 months of failing, 26 months of stress, 26 months of failing at all three... I think we've reached a point where something has to give.
I am broken. I am tired of feeling like a failure. I am tired of being told I am failing.
You know how you have the worst things you think about yourself?
Now imagine if everyone around you told you they were true. Not just one person, but everyone. Okay, not literally everyone, but just about.
Oh, they always phrase it nicely. Okay, not always, but usually.
What if your husband told you repeatedly that you were not satisfactory to him as a wife, and he wasn't pleased with how you handled your daughter, and by the way, why can't you keep the house clean?
If your mom started putting parenting articles in your diaper bag so you'd find them once you got your daughter home?
If your dad kept telling you that you'd better "shape up" before you got fired?
If your boss & co-workers started telling you how to do your job?
And you are trying, you are really, honestly trying, working, pushing yourself to do better at all of it.
And when you realize you can't work on all the areas at once, so you focus on one, you immediately hear a chorus of dissatisfied groans around you, because focusing on improving in one area means not focusing on five others.
And so when you decide that won't work, and you decide maybe if you take baby steps in several areas, so you don't overwhelm yourself too much you get laughed at & made fun of because what are baby steps gonna do? and "I know how you are & how this will end up" and then the chorus of dissatisfaction starts anew because you're not improving quickly enough.
Heck, let's broaden things.
What if two different volunteer organizations you that your volunteer contributions weren't up to snuff?
If members of your own family told you how horrible you were, and decided not to be around you?
What if you invited over 150 people to a party... and only five showed up?
Just... whatever it is for you... think about what the worst things you think about yourself. Seriously. Take a minute. Think about what they are, what they would be.
And then, imagine if the rest of the world seemed to be reading your mind, and telling your that you were right. That all of those horrible things... really were true.
And every time - we're talking over the course of several years - every time you had the arrogance to try to convince yourself that they weren't true, to stand up tall, and press onward... well, every single time you got knocked on your butt again.
That every teeny tiny success you might have, was met with a minimum of two decent-sized failures?
I just... I need a break. I need... I need something to give. I thought giving up volunteer organizations would help. And... at least I have lowered the number of people I am disappointing, but... I'm not really doing any better at this.
And then, of course, I have those people that like to tell me how I shouldn't have given up volunteering because of... blah, blah, blah. And when I try to explain they proceed to tell me how they manage to work it in.
You know, because the fact that I can't handle it is just another sign of how badly I suck. Because everyone else can do it.
I don't have much of a social life to give up (see above note re: party).
Can't give up family. They're family.
All that I see that's left, is work.
And all I know, is that I've reached my breaking point.
After two-and-a-half years of fighting just to manage as a working mom, fighting and struggling, and fighting, and failing... I am waving the white flag yet again and saying, I can't do it. I give.
I spend too much time crying. Too much time feeling bad. I give.
I honestly believe I will be a better, and happier, wife & mother if I am not working full-time outside the home.
I will have more time for my family, more time for my home, more time for myself.
I will not be as stressed. I will not be under as much pressure. I will not be held to so many outside pressures.
Instead of 50 different people reaching for me, depending on me, relying on me, counting on me... there will be two.
I don't know how to convince FireMan this is the right decision, and I don't know how we're gonna make it work financially, but... I really think I need to do this. I think all of our lives will be better.
And Lord, Father, Abba - if this doesn't work...........................................................
I cried on my way to work this morning. Because I hate who I am weekday mornings. Rushing around, ushering FireGirl to get up, eat her breakfast, get dressed, and out the door.
Even on days we don't fight, which are the majority anymore (thank the Lord!), I still hate who I am on those mornings.
It feels so... cold, so unfeeling. I swear I don't even think I saw FireMan this morning, till I was hurriedly pulling out the driveway.
It's get up, do this, c'mon, I said "do this", are you doing this?, why aren't you doing this?
It stresses me. It stresses her.
I hate who I am weekday mornings.
So I cried on my way to work this morning. Because I hated who I was at that moment.
But I don't know how else to do it. How else do you get up and get yourself and a toddler ready in the morning? It's so busy, so go-go-go.
I hate it. I hate me. Or the me I've become. On weekdays.
You know, I used to be a good employee too.
I was a great employee. I came early whenever they needed me to. Stayed late if anyone asked. My longest day was 6am-11:30pm, with no breaks except for lunch. Straight work. And I loved it. People depended on me, and I got stuff done.
Now? Please. Well, even if I could figure out how to get out the door sooner, I can't get there too early, because I'd have to wait until I could drop FireGirl off. And I can't stay too late because I have to pick her up.
So those days are definitely over.
My focus is split. I don't love my job anymore. I'm starting to hate it. Because of how it affects the rest of me. I hate the fact that I'm the way I am in the mornings because I'm going to that place. If I didn't have to go to that place, we wouldn't have to rush around, I wouldn't be ushering FireGirl around the house, urging her to eat her breakfast, begging her to let me dress her, fighting with her about getting in the car.
Ugh. I hate it. I who I am on weekdays. I really do.
I seriously considered texting FireMan when I got to work this morning and telling him I was putting in my two weeks notice. And meaning it.
I have no idea how we would make it financially, but...
I just feel like something's gotta give.
And it can't be my family. So...
I was a good employee, until I became a mom.
I'm a great mom, when I'm not trying to be a mediocre or better employee.
And in-between all that I'm desperately trying to be a satisfactory wife.
But... it's not working. Twenty-six months later, 26 months of trying, 26 months of failing, 26 months of stress, 26 months of failing at all three... I think we've reached a point where something has to give.
I am broken. I am tired of feeling like a failure. I am tired of being told I am failing.
You know how you have the worst things you think about yourself?
Now imagine if everyone around you told you they were true. Not just one person, but everyone. Okay, not literally everyone, but just about.
Oh, they always phrase it nicely. Okay, not always, but usually.
What if your husband told you repeatedly that you were not satisfactory to him as a wife, and he wasn't pleased with how you handled your daughter, and by the way, why can't you keep the house clean?
If your mom started putting parenting articles in your diaper bag so you'd find them once you got your daughter home?
If your dad kept telling you that you'd better "shape up" before you got fired?
If your boss & co-workers started telling you how to do your job?
And you are trying, you are really, honestly trying, working, pushing yourself to do better at all of it.
And when you realize you can't work on all the areas at once, so you focus on one, you immediately hear a chorus of dissatisfied groans around you, because focusing on improving in one area means not focusing on five others.
And so when you decide that won't work, and you decide maybe if you take baby steps in several areas, so you don't overwhelm yourself too much you get laughed at & made fun of because what are baby steps gonna do? and "I know how you are & how this will end up" and then the chorus of dissatisfaction starts anew because you're not improving quickly enough.
Heck, let's broaden things.
What if two different volunteer organizations you that your volunteer contributions weren't up to snuff?
If members of your own family told you how horrible you were, and decided not to be around you?
What if you invited over 150 people to a party... and only five showed up?
Just... whatever it is for you... think about what the worst things you think about yourself. Seriously. Take a minute. Think about what they are, what they would be.
And then, imagine if the rest of the world seemed to be reading your mind, and telling your that you were right. That all of those horrible things... really were true.
And every time - we're talking over the course of several years - every time you had the arrogance to try to convince yourself that they weren't true, to stand up tall, and press onward... well, every single time you got knocked on your butt again.
That every teeny tiny success you might have, was met with a minimum of two decent-sized failures?
I just... I need a break. I need... I need something to give. I thought giving up volunteer organizations would help. And... at least I have lowered the number of people I am disappointing, but... I'm not really doing any better at this.
And then, of course, I have those people that like to tell me how I shouldn't have given up volunteering because of... blah, blah, blah. And when I try to explain they proceed to tell me how they manage to work it in.
You know, because the fact that I can't handle it is just another sign of how badly I suck. Because everyone else can do it.
I don't have much of a social life to give up (see above note re: party).
Can't give up family. They're family.
All that I see that's left, is work.
And all I know, is that I've reached my breaking point.
After two-and-a-half years of fighting just to manage as a working mom, fighting and struggling, and fighting, and failing... I am waving the white flag yet again and saying, I can't do it. I give.
I spend too much time crying. Too much time feeling bad. I give.
I honestly believe I will be a better, and happier, wife & mother if I am not working full-time outside the home.
I will have more time for my family, more time for my home, more time for myself.
I will not be as stressed. I will not be under as much pressure. I will not be held to so many outside pressures.
Instead of 50 different people reaching for me, depending on me, relying on me, counting on me... there will be two.
I don't know how to convince FireMan this is the right decision, and I don't know how we're gonna make it work financially, but... I really think I need to do this. I think all of our lives will be better.
And Lord, Father, Abba - if this doesn't work...........................................................
Monday, April 18, 2011
Never Marry an Amazing Man
It comes with too many expectations that you will be amazing too.
FireMan is amazing. He really is. He is hard-working, generous, and will do anything for anybody.
I mean, c'mon... the man is a firefighter. His chosen profession is to run into burning buildings to save other people. He took a significant pay cut to put his life in danger to help others.
He's that guy.
He's incredible.
He also volunteers with the local water rescue as a rescue & recovery diver and EMT. And he's great at it. In fact, I contend that if you ever (God forbid) need someone to recover a corpse from a body of water, FireMan's your guy. He's the best at it.
Yes, it's a weird thing to be the best at, but he is. And him, again putting himself in danger, to recover a loved one so that a family can gain closure... well, how awesome is that?
And then we started volunteering as divers for the Zoo. I stopped, because I didn't feel like I had the time, but he's continued.
And he tried out for Ski Patrol this past winter. And although he didn't make it this time around (it was kinda last minute and he did it on a whim), I have a feeling that's not the last we've heard of it.
Friends and family know FireMan as the type of guy that they can call whenever they need him. Car breaks down? Call FireMan. Sick and need help? Call FireMan. Need help with something on your house? Call FireMan.
He is reliable, dependable, great at what he does, generous, and always willing to help.
It's one of the things that attracted me to him to begin with.
Don't ever marry an amazing man.
Why? Because you're expected to be just as amazing. People who don't know me assume that I'm an EMT or firefighter. And they're surprised, and seemingly somewhat disappointed, to learn that I don't currently volunteer anywhere.
And when "they" need your husband? You're expected to just give him up, no questions asked, no complaints. Keep your mouth closed, and smile graciously, relishing in the knowledge that your husband is serving others.
Even if you had plans.
Even if you had something you wanted or needed done around the house.
Even if your daughter is asking for him.
Even if you're just lonely and missing him.
If you marry an amazing man, you're expected to be amazing too. You can't just be the normal wife, nagging because her husband worked late.
After all, he's not just working, he's helping others.
It's a lot of pressure.
And when it boils over, and you tell your husband you need him to cut back so he can be home more, you actually end up feeling bad, feeling guilty.
You feel guilty for wanting to be with your own husband.
Because it's not like he's out at the bar or the strip club. He's out helping others.
And you asking him to cut down on doing that "just" to be with you? Well, that seems... selfish.
Because as the wife of an amazing man, you're supposed to be amazing too. You're supposed to generously & supportively give up your husband, quietly live the life of the single mom all the nights that he's gone, and do what you need to do so that he can do what he does best... help others.
Even when you don't want to. Even when you're tired. Or sick.
Or lonely and just want your husband back.
Or just want someone else to help with your child that night.
Or just don't know what to say anymore when your daughter asks where daddy is this time.
Or just want your husband back.
That is your sacrifice, your generosity, your amazingness - supporting him and willingly & happily going without him so that he can help others.
When he is amazing, when he is generous, helpful, hard-working, and will do anything for anybody...
You have to be amazing too. You don't really get a choice here.
You have to be generous, and supportive of him - because he's amazing.
And to be anything less would be seen as selfish.
So, my advice to all you single ladies?
Never marry an amazing man.
FireMan is amazing. He really is. He is hard-working, generous, and will do anything for anybody.
I mean, c'mon... the man is a firefighter. His chosen profession is to run into burning buildings to save other people. He took a significant pay cut to put his life in danger to help others.
He's that guy.
He's incredible.
He also volunteers with the local water rescue as a rescue & recovery diver and EMT. And he's great at it. In fact, I contend that if you ever (God forbid) need someone to recover a corpse from a body of water, FireMan's your guy. He's the best at it.
Yes, it's a weird thing to be the best at, but he is. And him, again putting himself in danger, to recover a loved one so that a family can gain closure... well, how awesome is that?
And then we started volunteering as divers for the Zoo. I stopped, because I didn't feel like I had the time, but he's continued.
And he tried out for Ski Patrol this past winter. And although he didn't make it this time around (it was kinda last minute and he did it on a whim), I have a feeling that's not the last we've heard of it.
Friends and family know FireMan as the type of guy that they can call whenever they need him. Car breaks down? Call FireMan. Sick and need help? Call FireMan. Need help with something on your house? Call FireMan.
He is reliable, dependable, great at what he does, generous, and always willing to help.
It's one of the things that attracted me to him to begin with.
Don't ever marry an amazing man.
Why? Because you're expected to be just as amazing. People who don't know me assume that I'm an EMT or firefighter. And they're surprised, and seemingly somewhat disappointed, to learn that I don't currently volunteer anywhere.
And when "they" need your husband? You're expected to just give him up, no questions asked, no complaints. Keep your mouth closed, and smile graciously, relishing in the knowledge that your husband is serving others.
Even if you had plans.
Even if you had something you wanted or needed done around the house.
Even if your daughter is asking for him.
Even if you're just lonely and missing him.
If you marry an amazing man, you're expected to be amazing too. You can't just be the normal wife, nagging because her husband worked late.
After all, he's not just working, he's helping others.
It's a lot of pressure.
And when it boils over, and you tell your husband you need him to cut back so he can be home more, you actually end up feeling bad, feeling guilty.
You feel guilty for wanting to be with your own husband.
Because it's not like he's out at the bar or the strip club. He's out helping others.
And you asking him to cut down on doing that "just" to be with you? Well, that seems... selfish.
Because as the wife of an amazing man, you're supposed to be amazing too. You're supposed to generously & supportively give up your husband, quietly live the life of the single mom all the nights that he's gone, and do what you need to do so that he can do what he does best... help others.
Even when you don't want to. Even when you're tired. Or sick.
Or lonely and just want your husband back.
Or just want someone else to help with your child that night.
Or just don't know what to say anymore when your daughter asks where daddy is this time.
Or just want your husband back.
That is your sacrifice, your generosity, your amazingness - supporting him and willingly & happily going without him so that he can help others.
When he is amazing, when he is generous, helpful, hard-working, and will do anything for anybody...
You have to be amazing too. You don't really get a choice here.
You have to be generous, and supportive of him - because he's amazing.
And to be anything less would be seen as selfish.
So, my advice to all you single ladies?
Never marry an amazing man.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
FDIC 2011
Yep, we made it.
A brief re-cap in words, and then some pics:
Water Rescue ended up going on Friday, so Jason & I hit the road early Saturday morning and went on Saturday. We (nearly) closed out the convention, then walked over to Circle Centre Mall and people-watched until our matinee movie started. Ended the evening with dinner at Rock Bottom, and then spent the night in the Hyatt. Slept in Sunday morning, stopped for a leisurely brunch outside of Indianapolis, then headed to my parents' house to pick up Jena, who spent the weekend there.
All in all, a great weekend.
Now for some pics:
A brief re-cap in words, and then some pics:
Water Rescue ended up going on Friday, so Jason & I hit the road early Saturday morning and went on Saturday. We (nearly) closed out the convention, then walked over to Circle Centre Mall and people-watched until our matinee movie started. Ended the evening with dinner at Rock Bottom, and then spent the night in the Hyatt. Slept in Sunday morning, stopped for a leisurely brunch outside of Indianapolis, then headed to my parents' house to pick up Jena, who spent the weekend there.
All in all, a great weekend.
Now for some pics:
Thursday, March 17, 2011
I asked Jason to give up the fire department...
... basically.
What I actually asked was for him to make me a stay-at-home-mom.
***********
Background:
we had been dating almost a year when Jason got his first full-time firefighter job offer, something he had been longing for for years. The problem was it would be over a 40% reduction in his pay. And his divorce, which happened shortly before we met, meant he no longer had a savings account (she got the entire balance in the settlement), plus a few other minor financial issues. This mean that if he took the job, he couldn't afford his current living expenses. He would have to try to sell the house in a down market & move into a tiny apartment, and sell the truck to buy a clunker.
Or... I could move in with him and we could split living expenses.
It was the most logical move. I spent most of my time there anyway. Splitting his mortgage payment was less cost for me than my rent. And we both knew we were headed for marriage anyway.
We talked it over, at length. Jason knew I wanted to be a SAHM once we had children, and also felt this was ideal when the kids were young.
This wouldn't be feasible on just the firefighting salary though, but he already had a 2nd job lined up that promised excellent pay, and said they could work with his shift schedule.
We did the math. Within 3-4 years, he should be making enough from both jobs that I could be a SAHM.
For various reasons we thought that would be the earliest we would have children anyway, so... it was perfect. He got his dream job, and I would (probably) still get to be a SAHM.
But... we both were careful to acknowledge that me agreeing to do this was risking me not being a SAHM, if things didn't work out.
Needless to say, things haven't worked out. The really good 2nd job ended up not really liking his schedule after all. So now his 2nd job is something that is convenient, and is a decent place to work, and doesn't mind his schedule at all, and it does pay into his retirement, but... the pay is awful.
**************
back to current:
I know what I asked of him is selfish.
To be fair, I didn't directly ask him to quit being a firefighter. What I said went something like this.
Make me a stay-at-home-mom. (he chuckles, and says I know he doesn't make enough money). I told him that he could make more money. If he goes back to his old line of work, there would be more than enough $$$ for me to stay home. And he can still be a volunteer firefighter, locally. He could still be a firefighter, while I could stay home.
I told him it wasn't fair. When we made the decision for him to accept the job, which was only possible because I agreed to keep working and help support the household, I knew I was risking giving up being a SAHM, but I didn't know I was risking more babies (I confirmed before we started the conversation that if I were a SAHM, he would want more babies too, his reason for not wanting more has a lot to do with daycare costs & logistics).
And he can still be a firefighter, just as a volunteer.
He said that if he goes back to the old job he would be working 70+ hours per week, and would probably travel, meaning he would be gone overnight, and did I want that?
{{ blink. blink. blink }} [[ fellow FireWives feel free to insert chuckle ]]
I reminded him that he already works well over 70 hours per week (this week he will work 93 hours between both jobs), and is gone at least every 3rd night. Plus holidays, which he would get off with a "normal" job.
And once the children entered school I was willing to go back to work full-time, and he could try to get on somewhere as a full-time firefighter again.
Plus, I actually know of people at my current employer, who took unpaid leaves of 2-3 years each, and work either held their jobs, or provided them with an equal level job at equal pay, keeping their seniority, when they returned (awesome, I know). So I could look into that.
Or, I told him, he doesn't have to give up being a full-time firefighter at all. Just find a better-paying 2nd job. Or put more time into the business so that it will actually make money. We both know the market is there. It's picking up, slowly. Just put more time into it, a little more effort, and start making real money at it.
He got very quiet.
I told him that I know I chose to continue working so he could be a firefighter. I don't begrudge him that. At all.
It was my choice, and I wanted him to do what he wanted.
But, true or not, it feels as if I have had to give up on my dreams completely in order to fulfill his, and he's not even trying to help me fulfill mine. And that's not fair.
********************
A few hours later, completely different topic, we were looking at the calendar trying to plan a weekend getaway.
FireMan: "Hey! I didn't realize I worked Easter this year."
Me: "Are you kidding me?!? How can that be?!? You just worked Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years' Eve?!?"
FireMan: "That's just how it is" (indeed, as a fire wife, that is just how it is).
FireMan: "Looks like I work Memorial Day too."
Me: {{ stewing silently }}
FireMan: "And Fathers' Day"
Me: "Seriously?!? Are you being serious?!?"
FireMan: "yes"
Me: "I need you to tell me what I get out of you being a firefighter. Because right now it really seems like I'm just getting screwed out of the deal."
FireMan: "sorry"
Sorry indeed.
************
I know some will see this as flameworthy. I am being selfish. I have dreamed of being a SAHM since I was young. And I want my dreams to come true. It seems like maybe it should be my turn now.
I also know that my fellow fire wives, at the very least, understand my frustration. Even if they don't agree with my stance, they get where I'm coming from.
They know what families give up so that their husbands & fathers can be firefighters. They understand the sacrifice, the frustrations, the emotions.
************
I don't know what's going to happen next. But you can be sure I'll keep you posted.
What I actually asked was for him to make me a stay-at-home-mom.
***********
Background:
we had been dating almost a year when Jason got his first full-time firefighter job offer, something he had been longing for for years. The problem was it would be over a 40% reduction in his pay. And his divorce, which happened shortly before we met, meant he no longer had a savings account (she got the entire balance in the settlement), plus a few other minor financial issues. This mean that if he took the job, he couldn't afford his current living expenses. He would have to try to sell the house in a down market & move into a tiny apartment, and sell the truck to buy a clunker.
Or... I could move in with him and we could split living expenses.
It was the most logical move. I spent most of my time there anyway. Splitting his mortgage payment was less cost for me than my rent. And we both knew we were headed for marriage anyway.
We talked it over, at length. Jason knew I wanted to be a SAHM once we had children, and also felt this was ideal when the kids were young.
This wouldn't be feasible on just the firefighting salary though, but he already had a 2nd job lined up that promised excellent pay, and said they could work with his shift schedule.
We did the math. Within 3-4 years, he should be making enough from both jobs that I could be a SAHM.
For various reasons we thought that would be the earliest we would have children anyway, so... it was perfect. He got his dream job, and I would (probably) still get to be a SAHM.
But... we both were careful to acknowledge that me agreeing to do this was risking me not being a SAHM, if things didn't work out.
Needless to say, things haven't worked out. The really good 2nd job ended up not really liking his schedule after all. So now his 2nd job is something that is convenient, and is a decent place to work, and doesn't mind his schedule at all, and it does pay into his retirement, but... the pay is awful.
**************
back to current:
I know what I asked of him is selfish.
To be fair, I didn't directly ask him to quit being a firefighter. What I said went something like this.
Make me a stay-at-home-mom. (he chuckles, and says I know he doesn't make enough money). I told him that he could make more money. If he goes back to his old line of work, there would be more than enough $$$ for me to stay home. And he can still be a volunteer firefighter, locally. He could still be a firefighter, while I could stay home.
I told him it wasn't fair. When we made the decision for him to accept the job, which was only possible because I agreed to keep working and help support the household, I knew I was risking giving up being a SAHM, but I didn't know I was risking more babies (I confirmed before we started the conversation that if I were a SAHM, he would want more babies too, his reason for not wanting more has a lot to do with daycare costs & logistics).
And he can still be a firefighter, just as a volunteer.
He said that if he goes back to the old job he would be working 70+ hours per week, and would probably travel, meaning he would be gone overnight, and did I want that?
{{ blink. blink. blink }} [[ fellow FireWives feel free to insert chuckle ]]
I reminded him that he already works well over 70 hours per week (this week he will work 93 hours between both jobs), and is gone at least every 3rd night. Plus holidays, which he would get off with a "normal" job.
And once the children entered school I was willing to go back to work full-time, and he could try to get on somewhere as a full-time firefighter again.
Plus, I actually know of people at my current employer, who took unpaid leaves of 2-3 years each, and work either held their jobs, or provided them with an equal level job at equal pay, keeping their seniority, when they returned (awesome, I know). So I could look into that.
Or, I told him, he doesn't have to give up being a full-time firefighter at all. Just find a better-paying 2nd job. Or put more time into the business so that it will actually make money. We both know the market is there. It's picking up, slowly. Just put more time into it, a little more effort, and start making real money at it.
He got very quiet.
I told him that I know I chose to continue working so he could be a firefighter. I don't begrudge him that. At all.
It was my choice, and I wanted him to do what he wanted.
But, true or not, it feels as if I have had to give up on my dreams completely in order to fulfill his, and he's not even trying to help me fulfill mine. And that's not fair.
********************
A few hours later, completely different topic, we were looking at the calendar trying to plan a weekend getaway.
FireMan: "Hey! I didn't realize I worked Easter this year."
Me: "Are you kidding me?!? How can that be?!? You just worked Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Years' Eve?!?"
FireMan: "That's just how it is" (indeed, as a fire wife, that is just how it is).
FireMan: "Looks like I work Memorial Day too."
Me: {{ stewing silently }}
FireMan: "And Fathers' Day"
Me: "Seriously?!? Are you being serious?!?"
FireMan: "yes"
Me: "I need you to tell me what I get out of you being a firefighter. Because right now it really seems like I'm just getting screwed out of the deal."
FireMan: "sorry"
Sorry indeed.
************
I know some will see this as flameworthy. I am being selfish. I have dreamed of being a SAHM since I was young. And I want my dreams to come true. It seems like maybe it should be my turn now.
I also know that my fellow fire wives, at the very least, understand my frustration. Even if they don't agree with my stance, they get where I'm coming from.
They know what families give up so that their husbands & fathers can be firefighters. They understand the sacrifice, the frustrations, the emotions.
************
I don't know what's going to happen next. But you can be sure I'll keep you posted.
Wednesday, January 12, 2011
The Fire Chief is Not Welcome at My Home
At least not pulling up in his department vehicle unannounced, in his dress uniform, accompanied by FireMan's captain, during or shortly after FireMan's shift.
FireMom's recent post reminded me of one of the hardest parts of being a FireWife. Which is why I never talk about it. I rarely think about it.
FireMan's job could kill him.And not in that anyone-could-die-doing-anything-at-any-moment sorta way. In the no-really-any-time-the-tones-go-off-he's-putting-himself-in-harm's-way kinda way.
I remember, shortly after he got his job as a full-time firefighter, so excited after so many years as a volunteer, so excited to be getting paid to fulfill his dream... one day he called me at work, so non-chalantly.
He said he was filling out paperwork for his personnel file, routine stuff, and began asking me questions. Name, date of birth, social security number, etc. Routine stuff.
Cell phone, work phone, alternate phone, physical work address (not mailing address, physical location)
Wait, what?
I laughed. Why do they need the actual physical location of my work?
It's so the chief knows where to go.
See, it's just like you may have seen in the movies.
If a firefighter dies in the line of duty, in most departments (all that I know of, really), the chief puts on his dress uniform, at least one other fire officer joins him, they get in the chief's department vehicle, and notify the next of kin in person.
Thanks for calling me at work, hunny (as I start crying at my desk). Timing is not always FireMan's strong suit, that's for sure.
I managed to compose myself to get thru the conversation.
We got thru that, and moved on to the rest of the "routine" personnel questions.
Choose another firefighter to accompany the chief to notify your wife of your death.
If you choose, please name your religion, place of worship, and any clergy you wish to be present in the hospital, or to preside over your funeral.
Would you like a formal firefighter's funeral & burial, or a citizen's?
Would you like to be buried in the firefighter's memorial cemetery?
Please select up to eight (8) men to act as pall bearers at your funeral
There were more. I know there were, but they escape me now.
We finished the conversation, as if it were nothing, I hung up, went to the bathroom, and bawled.
I don't know that every department does things that way. I'm certain that many husbands answer those questions without telling their wives.
But I'm glad that FireMan's department does. And I'm glad he included me in the answering of those questions.
Even if the memory of that conversation is a stark reminder of the danger he faces every day. Even if it means that a little, itsy bitsy party of me resents the Fire Chief, just because I know that if the God-forbid ever happened, he would be the one to tell me.
And no, Chief, you are not welcome at my home. Or at my work. At least not in your dress uniform. Not accompanied by another fire officer. Not in your department vehicle. Not unannounced. Not during or shortly after FireMan's shift.
LORD, Father, Abba - may that day never come
FireMom's recent post reminded me of one of the hardest parts of being a FireWife. Which is why I never talk about it. I rarely think about it.
FireMan's job could kill him.And not in that anyone-could-die-doing-anything-at-any-moment sorta way. In the no-really-any-time-the-tones-go-off-he's-putting-himself-in-harm's-way kinda way.
I remember, shortly after he got his job as a full-time firefighter, so excited after so many years as a volunteer, so excited to be getting paid to fulfill his dream... one day he called me at work, so non-chalantly.
He said he was filling out paperwork for his personnel file, routine stuff, and began asking me questions. Name, date of birth, social security number, etc. Routine stuff.
Cell phone, work phone, alternate phone, physical work address (not mailing address, physical location)
Wait, what?
I laughed. Why do they need the actual physical location of my work?
It's so the chief knows where to go.
See, it's just like you may have seen in the movies.
If a firefighter dies in the line of duty, in most departments (all that I know of, really), the chief puts on his dress uniform, at least one other fire officer joins him, they get in the chief's department vehicle, and notify the next of kin in person.
Thanks for calling me at work, hunny (as I start crying at my desk). Timing is not always FireMan's strong suit, that's for sure.
I managed to compose myself to get thru the conversation.
We got thru that, and moved on to the rest of the "routine" personnel questions.
Choose another firefighter to accompany the chief to notify your wife of your death.
If you choose, please name your religion, place of worship, and any clergy you wish to be present in the hospital, or to preside over your funeral.
Would you like a formal firefighter's funeral & burial, or a citizen's?
Would you like to be buried in the firefighter's memorial cemetery?
Please select up to eight (8) men to act as pall bearers at your funeral
There were more. I know there were, but they escape me now.
We finished the conversation, as if it were nothing, I hung up, went to the bathroom, and bawled.
I don't know that every department does things that way. I'm certain that many husbands answer those questions without telling their wives.
But I'm glad that FireMan's department does. And I'm glad he included me in the answering of those questions.
Even if the memory of that conversation is a stark reminder of the danger he faces every day. Even if it means that a little, itsy bitsy party of me resents the Fire Chief, just because I know that if the God-forbid ever happened, he would be the one to tell me.
And no, Chief, you are not welcome at my home. Or at my work. At least not in your dress uniform. Not accompanied by another fire officer. Not in your department vehicle. Not unannounced. Not during or shortly after FireMan's shift.
LORD, Father, Abba - may that day never come
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
A FireFamily Christmas
Well, here it is. Four years as a full-time firefighter, and we have the first time Jason has to work Christmas Day. We've been blessed by the timing of Leap Year. Other families have been cursed by it.
We got a small taste of what it will be like on Thanksgiving. It stinks. We did Thanksgiving with his family on Tuesday night. Thanksgiving with my family went on as planned on Thursday, without him. I had originally planned on leaving around 2pm to drive Jena and myself down to visit him, but since my family lives two hours from his firehouse, he told me he didn't want us driving that much, especially on the holiday with all the "crazies". So we didn't even see each other.
I think it bothered me more than it did him.
See, for him, it was a normal work day. Pretend nothing was different, and it doesn't seem so bad, right? But to me, being at my aunt's house, surrounded by family, repeatedly answering questions about where Jason was, even just the fact that we were doing our normal... without him. It just felt... weird.
Jodi no likey.
But, that is the life of the FireFamily, right? That is what we signed up for.
So this Christmas will be different.
Santa will come to our house the night of the 23rd, and we will celebrate Christmas Eve morning as if it were Christmas morning. And Jena will certainly not know the difference yet, which is grand. We will open presents and have breakfast together as a family, the three of us, then head over to his parents' house to have Christmas with his family on Christmas Eve (as usual).
The hard part will be Christmas Day.
There will be a part of me that I know will be sad waking up Christmas Day knowing that our Christmas morning is already over.
And Jena & I will get up and get ready and head over to my parents' house to have Christmas over there with my family, as usual (although a little earlier than usual, since we don't have to do our Christmas morning this year), and that will be weird.
Jason has never not been there, since I've met him. I will miss his presence, miss sharing that day with him. I anticipate... part of me will be sad.
My hope is... that Jena will be so enthralled by her aunts & uncles & cousins & grandparents & presents & decorations & lights, that perhaps by the time she thinks to ask where Daddy is it will be time to kiss her goodnight... and he willl walk in the door the next morning.
We got a small taste of what it will be like on Thanksgiving. It stinks. We did Thanksgiving with his family on Tuesday night. Thanksgiving with my family went on as planned on Thursday, without him. I had originally planned on leaving around 2pm to drive Jena and myself down to visit him, but since my family lives two hours from his firehouse, he told me he didn't want us driving that much, especially on the holiday with all the "crazies". So we didn't even see each other.
I think it bothered me more than it did him.
See, for him, it was a normal work day. Pretend nothing was different, and it doesn't seem so bad, right? But to me, being at my aunt's house, surrounded by family, repeatedly answering questions about where Jason was, even just the fact that we were doing our normal... without him. It just felt... weird.
Jodi no likey.
But, that is the life of the FireFamily, right? That is what we signed up for.
So this Christmas will be different.
Santa will come to our house the night of the 23rd, and we will celebrate Christmas Eve morning as if it were Christmas morning. And Jena will certainly not know the difference yet, which is grand. We will open presents and have breakfast together as a family, the three of us, then head over to his parents' house to have Christmas with his family on Christmas Eve (as usual).
The hard part will be Christmas Day.
There will be a part of me that I know will be sad waking up Christmas Day knowing that our Christmas morning is already over.
And Jena & I will get up and get ready and head over to my parents' house to have Christmas over there with my family, as usual (although a little earlier than usual, since we don't have to do our Christmas morning this year), and that will be weird.
Jason has never not been there, since I've met him. I will miss his presence, miss sharing that day with him. I anticipate... part of me will be sad.
My hope is... that Jena will be so enthralled by her aunts & uncles & cousins & grandparents & presents & decorations & lights, that perhaps by the time she thinks to ask where Daddy is it will be time to kiss her goodnight... and he willl walk in the door the next morning.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Paying for (Fire) Service
This is my response to this news story:
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/39516346/ns/us_news-life/
Here's my paraphrase, for those who don't feel like clicking the link:
Guy lives in a rural area. Said area does not have its own fire dept. Neighboring town allows surrounding rural residents to use their fire dept, if they pay an annual fee of $75. Guy "forgets" to pay. His house catches fire. He calls 911. Dispatcher informs him the fire dept will not be responding since he didn't pay for fire service. Fire spreads to neighbors house. Neighbor had paid for fire service. Neighbor calls 911. Fire dept responds and puts out fire on neighbors property, but not on initial guy's property. Now this guy & the media have decided the firefighters are big meanies for not putting out his house fire.
As a firefighter's wife, this story hits home, and I feel compelled to respond to it.
#1 - fire service is very expensive. One used, but working firetruck will easily run upwards of $100k. But then you'll pay for more maintenance & repairs, which are costly, as there are not a huge number of companies who repair emergency vehicles. A new firetruck you'd be lucky to find for $300k. And that's just for the truck. Then you need to provide safety gear to protect the firefighters who will be responding. Oh, and don't forget the building this all needs to be housed in. And training, so your firefighters know what they're doing. And if you want them to also have EMT training, add on some more. And that's just to have a volunteer dept. If you want the reliability of having a paid fire service, don't forget to add on salaries & benefits. The salaries aren't much (FireMan's hourly wage isn't even in the double digits), but they still have to be paid.
#2 - somebody has to pay for said expensive fire service. In the neighboring town it was paid by the taxes of the residents. Since the rural area was outside of the taxable limits of the town, the town chose to graciously extend their fire service to the surrounding area, provided the citizens pay an annual fee of $75 to help off-set costs. That alone was a decision the town's leaders never had to make. They could have, reasonably, refused the neighboring areas to use their fire service. I say reasonably because one truck & crew headed out of town takes said crew away from the tax-paying citizens of the town.
#3 - Mr. Cranick didn't pay the fee for fire service this year. This is a fact which he admits. Maybe Mr. Cranick really did forget. Maybe he decided he'd rather keep his $75 instead of pay it, on the chance that his house wouldn't catch fire. I guess maybe he forgot. We all have those moments, right? But considering the town has had this fee for over 20 years, I just have a hard time believing that he paid it for the past however many years, and the year his house catches fire he just forgot. Whatever. Either way, he didn't pay it.
We've seen this mentality again & again in our area. Fire levies routinely fail. I've actually heard people say that they don't vote for fire levies because they don't think we need the existing fire service. Not voting against increasing the fire dept, they vote against keeping the level of protection they have.
I've also seen victims of house fires & other tragedies rally behind their first responders and fight to get them the money they need.
Fire Service, like many others, is one of those things that no one wants to pay for until it affects them directly. The only problem is that if you wait until then to decide to pay, it's too late. This type of service has to be kept up 24-7 in order to be effective to the greatest number of citizens. And that can't be done without... money. Money that has to come from somewhere.
#4 - the responding firefighters were following orders. Regardless of whether or not you agree with those orders, take it up with the Chief & the leaders of the town. In the fire service, rules & following orders saves lives. To villify the responding firefighters is ridiculous.
#5 - no one's life was in imminent danger. Mr. Cranick had notified the dispatcher that all residents were out of the building.
#6 - firefighter's hate watching buildings burn. Being married to a firefighter, and spending enough time around a number of firefighters, I can all but guarantee that they hated letting that building burn. Running into a burning building is in their blood, and to just sit & let it burn... yeah, I can all but guarantee they didn't want to. But not only were they following orders, they also probably knew (or found out shortly thereafter) that the homeowner hadn't paid for their services. Be honest: how many of you would continue at your jobs if the people you worked for "forgot" to pay you? Honestly? Now, what if doing your job also put your life on the line? But the people you worked for "forgot" to pay you? Be honest........ I didn't think so.
#7 - stop blaming somebody else, and accept responsibility for your own actions. I am so sick of this part of our current culture. It seems like no one accepts responsibility anymore. Mr. Cranickchose not forgot to pay the fee for fire service. It was his responsibility as a homeowner to make sure it was paid. He didn't pay it. That means the lack of response by the fire department is his fault. No one else's. His. Just because something bad happened to you, doesn't mean you get to pass of your responsibility and blame someone else.
By the comments of read on several news stories about this situation, I am gathering I'm in the minority. Why, I'm not sure. But this is my blog, and so this is my two cents on the subject.
http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/39516346/ns/us_news-life/
Here's my paraphrase, for those who don't feel like clicking the link:
Guy lives in a rural area. Said area does not have its own fire dept. Neighboring town allows surrounding rural residents to use their fire dept, if they pay an annual fee of $75. Guy "forgets" to pay. His house catches fire. He calls 911. Dispatcher informs him the fire dept will not be responding since he didn't pay for fire service. Fire spreads to neighbors house. Neighbor had paid for fire service. Neighbor calls 911. Fire dept responds and puts out fire on neighbors property, but not on initial guy's property. Now this guy & the media have decided the firefighters are big meanies for not putting out his house fire.
As a firefighter's wife, this story hits home, and I feel compelled to respond to it.
#1 - fire service is very expensive. One used, but working firetruck will easily run upwards of $100k. But then you'll pay for more maintenance & repairs, which are costly, as there are not a huge number of companies who repair emergency vehicles. A new firetruck you'd be lucky to find for $300k. And that's just for the truck. Then you need to provide safety gear to protect the firefighters who will be responding. Oh, and don't forget the building this all needs to be housed in. And training, so your firefighters know what they're doing. And if you want them to also have EMT training, add on some more. And that's just to have a volunteer dept. If you want the reliability of having a paid fire service, don't forget to add on salaries & benefits. The salaries aren't much (FireMan's hourly wage isn't even in the double digits), but they still have to be paid.
#2 - somebody has to pay for said expensive fire service. In the neighboring town it was paid by the taxes of the residents. Since the rural area was outside of the taxable limits of the town, the town chose to graciously extend their fire service to the surrounding area, provided the citizens pay an annual fee of $75 to help off-set costs. That alone was a decision the town's leaders never had to make. They could have, reasonably, refused the neighboring areas to use their fire service. I say reasonably because one truck & crew headed out of town takes said crew away from the tax-paying citizens of the town.
#3 - Mr. Cranick didn't pay the fee for fire service this year. This is a fact which he admits. Maybe Mr. Cranick really did forget. Maybe he decided he'd rather keep his $75 instead of pay it, on the chance that his house wouldn't catch fire. I guess maybe he forgot. We all have those moments, right? But considering the town has had this fee for over 20 years, I just have a hard time believing that he paid it for the past however many years, and the year his house catches fire he just forgot. Whatever. Either way, he didn't pay it.
We've seen this mentality again & again in our area. Fire levies routinely fail. I've actually heard people say that they don't vote for fire levies because they don't think we need the existing fire service. Not voting against increasing the fire dept, they vote against keeping the level of protection they have.
I've also seen victims of house fires & other tragedies rally behind their first responders and fight to get them the money they need.
Fire Service, like many others, is one of those things that no one wants to pay for until it affects them directly. The only problem is that if you wait until then to decide to pay, it's too late. This type of service has to be kept up 24-7 in order to be effective to the greatest number of citizens. And that can't be done without... money. Money that has to come from somewhere.
#4 - the responding firefighters were following orders. Regardless of whether or not you agree with those orders, take it up with the Chief & the leaders of the town. In the fire service, rules & following orders saves lives. To villify the responding firefighters is ridiculous.
#5 - no one's life was in imminent danger. Mr. Cranick had notified the dispatcher that all residents were out of the building.
#6 - firefighter's hate watching buildings burn. Being married to a firefighter, and spending enough time around a number of firefighters, I can all but guarantee that they hated letting that building burn. Running into a burning building is in their blood, and to just sit & let it burn... yeah, I can all but guarantee they didn't want to. But not only were they following orders, they also probably knew (or found out shortly thereafter) that the homeowner hadn't paid for their services. Be honest: how many of you would continue at your jobs if the people you worked for "forgot" to pay you? Honestly? Now, what if doing your job also put your life on the line? But the people you worked for "forgot" to pay you? Be honest........ I didn't think so.
#7 - stop blaming somebody else, and accept responsibility for your own actions. I am so sick of this part of our current culture. It seems like no one accepts responsibility anymore. Mr. Cranick
By the comments of read on several news stories about this situation, I am gathering I'm in the minority. Why, I'm not sure. But this is my blog, and so this is my two cents on the subject.
Monday, September 27, 2010
Trouble in the Culture ??
FireMan recently informed me that yet another of his coworkers has separated from his wife. I did the math.
Ten percent of his coworkers have separated or divorced within the past year.
Then I realized that not all of them were married to begin with. If you take out those already single (never married, already divorced, or widowed), then twenty percent of his married coworkers have separated or divorced within the past year.
And of course ya'll know we've had our own problems this year (things have been going well lately, thank you for asking).
And of course there're the two firefighters who are (fairly openly) cheating on their wives.
I find this high number of marital problems in one workplace scary. And troubling.
The fact that there are so many occurring, tells me that there's a high likelihood that it's something within the culture that has been created amongst themselves.
I have asked FireMan to keep his eyes open, to be vigilant, to be on guard against such things. I have asked him that if he can identify what the problem might be, that he build walls against it, and flee from it when it appears.
I don't know what it might be. They don't all work with one another, not in the same station or on the same shift. Most of them don't hang out together very much after work.
But it seems to me that there has to be something going on. Perhaps a way of thinking that needs to be changed, as opposed to any one action.
It's interesting, because when I brought up our marital issues to my therapist, she at one point had mentioned that it might be a long road ahead, because it seemed like I wasn't just fighting for one man, I was fighting the culture he's surrounded by.
I knew then she was probably right, but wow! I didn't see this coming.
Twenty percent. Within the past year. I can't get over that. It's just huge.
Ten percent of his coworkers have separated or divorced within the past year.
Then I realized that not all of them were married to begin with. If you take out those already single (never married, already divorced, or widowed), then twenty percent of his married coworkers have separated or divorced within the past year.
And of course ya'll know we've had our own problems this year (things have been going well lately, thank you for asking).
And of course there're the two firefighters who are (fairly openly) cheating on their wives.
I find this high number of marital problems in one workplace scary. And troubling.
The fact that there are so many occurring, tells me that there's a high likelihood that it's something within the culture that has been created amongst themselves.
I have asked FireMan to keep his eyes open, to be vigilant, to be on guard against such things. I have asked him that if he can identify what the problem might be, that he build walls against it, and flee from it when it appears.
I don't know what it might be. They don't all work with one another, not in the same station or on the same shift. Most of them don't hang out together very much after work.
But it seems to me that there has to be something going on. Perhaps a way of thinking that needs to be changed, as opposed to any one action.
It's interesting, because when I brought up our marital issues to my therapist, she at one point had mentioned that it might be a long road ahead, because it seemed like I wasn't just fighting for one man, I was fighting the culture he's surrounded by.
I knew then she was probably right, but wow! I didn't see this coming.
Twenty percent. Within the past year. I can't get over that. It's just huge.
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Disappointing Day
Today is the only day this week that we could have together as a family. FireMan worked yesterday, getting off at 7:30am this morning. I work tomorrow. So today is it.
I bought cinnamon rolls so we could enjoy a favorite breakfast together. I took my shower last night, so I would have time to curl my hair for him today. We planned to go to church together. We talked about going to Lowe's together to look at stuff for the new house. I was so excited to have this day together as a family, all three of us.
All day yesterday, FireGirl kept asking for Dadda. I told her that when she went to bed, if she slept the whole night, then Daddy would be here when she woke up, and he was spending the whole day with us. She would giggle, say "Yep!" and clap.
Apparently, I lied.
At 8:11am FireMan calls to tell me he's not coming home. Water rescue sent out a page, they need divers because somebody might have drowned. He's not even stopping by the house.
I. Am. Pissed.
I saw the news story on television. And I saw that there were more than enough water rescue personnel there. So I'm not buying the "nobody-showed-up-and-they-really-needed-me bit"
So, a little background for you. I work Monday - Friday. With his odd shifts, this means that we might get one day together as a family, on the weekends. The past couple of months he has decided that on that one day home he would rather go on boat patrol with water rescue than spend the day with his family.
Including last weekend. So after convincing me to reschedule our moving sale to last Saturday, he then signs up for boat patrol on the same day, leaving me to work it by myself. Luckily his parents were there most of the day because they were selling things, and my mom came at the end of the day to help me out. But that's beside the point.
We already have very limited time together as a family, and he keeps voluntarily doing other things on those days.
I feel lonely, and rejected. I feel like he would rather be anywhere than home with his wife & daughter. I feel that way because his actions have repeatedly told us that it's the truth.
You know, when I was single, I never understood the phrase "lonely wife". How could that be, I thought?
I get it now. "Lonely Wife". Yep. That's me.
Lonely wife. Rejected by her own husband.
You know, when I was single, I prayed that God would send me someone who adored me, someone who chose me above all others, someone who had eyes only for me.
I got married. But no one adores me. No one chooses me above all others. No one has eyes only for me.
My daughter is the closest. But as she gets older & older, that will get less & less. It's part of growing up, and it's bound to happen.
I'm sad.
I bought cinnamon rolls so we could enjoy a favorite breakfast together. I took my shower last night, so I would have time to curl my hair for him today. We planned to go to church together. We talked about going to Lowe's together to look at stuff for the new house. I was so excited to have this day together as a family, all three of us.
All day yesterday, FireGirl kept asking for Dadda. I told her that when she went to bed, if she slept the whole night, then Daddy would be here when she woke up, and he was spending the whole day with us. She would giggle, say "Yep!" and clap.
Apparently, I lied.
At 8:11am FireMan calls to tell me he's not coming home. Water rescue sent out a page, they need divers because somebody might have drowned. He's not even stopping by the house.
I. Am. Pissed.
I saw the news story on television. And I saw that there were more than enough water rescue personnel there. So I'm not buying the "nobody-showed-up-and-they-really-needed-me bit"
So, a little background for you. I work Monday - Friday. With his odd shifts, this means that we might get one day together as a family, on the weekends. The past couple of months he has decided that on that one day home he would rather go on boat patrol with water rescue than spend the day with his family.
Including last weekend. So after convincing me to reschedule our moving sale to last Saturday, he then signs up for boat patrol on the same day, leaving me to work it by myself. Luckily his parents were there most of the day because they were selling things, and my mom came at the end of the day to help me out. But that's beside the point.
We already have very limited time together as a family, and he keeps voluntarily doing other things on those days.
I feel lonely, and rejected. I feel like he would rather be anywhere than home with his wife & daughter. I feel that way because his actions have repeatedly told us that it's the truth.
You know, when I was single, I never understood the phrase "lonely wife". How could that be, I thought?
I get it now. "Lonely Wife". Yep. That's me.
Lonely wife. Rejected by her own husband.
You know, when I was single, I prayed that God would send me someone who adored me, someone who chose me above all others, someone who had eyes only for me.
I got married. But no one adores me. No one chooses me above all others. No one has eyes only for me.
My daughter is the closest. But as she gets older & older, that will get less & less. It's part of growing up, and it's bound to happen.
I'm sad.
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