The unfiltered truth of life as an Army wife and Military mama: (let's normalise real here!)

Nothing's the same when they're away … let’s embrace the chaos.

Are you ready for the honest-to-goodness truth about life as a military wife and mama?

Lean in a little closer and I'll whisper it … we're all white knuckling it; we are literally hanging on for dear life by our fingernails! 

I can't speak for military mothers of teens and adult children, I've yet to walk in their shoes as my oldest is only eight years old; but I can confidently say that 90% of military wives who are navigating frequent solo parenting of babies, toddlers and pre-teen children (or some combination thereof) will freely admit to living in survival mode - beginning the moment our husbands walk out the door. 

I was relaying to a dear friend just the other night that my motherhood heros - those I aspire to be like - are the graceful, eloquent mums of youtube who rise at 4am to bake sourdough in their vintage style linen dresses, after a well-rested 7 hours of sleep, all the while enjoying the company of their work from home husband who perfectly equally shares the parenting and household chore load on a daily basis. 

But let's get real; this is not my life. My life is almost the complete opposite of this dream scenario - and I guarantee you so is the life of almost every other military mama!

My army officer husband is absent for anywhere from 5 to 10 months of each year. I don't get out of bed at 4am, in fact I don't even get out of bed before my children wake up at 7.30 or 8.00am. I prise my eyes open when that first little head pops around the doorway into my room and climbs into bed for a morning cuddle, even though my REM sleep just began an hour prior because it took me until 11pm to get all four children down to sleep and then I crashed at midnight or 1am, only to be woken up every. single. hour thereafter.  

I don't own flawlessly beautiful linen attire; my clothing is wrinkled because I pull it out of a laundry basket each day and most of what I wear is polyester, fast fashion - because it handles the clothes drier beautifully and this is real life: I don't have time to air dry, much less iron, anything. 

Baking for me = any recipe comprised of milk and/or cream and flour (a non-negotiable prerequisite is that it takes no more than 5 minutes to throw into a mixing bowl and 10 minutes to cook) i.e. waffles, pancakes, muffins, scones, banana bread and oat cookies. I dream of baking homemade bread, but that 15 minutes I have to myself at the end of the night is going to be spent doing family admin or doom scrolling … it definitely won't be spent prepping the next day's bread!

I currently homeschool my children, because we came to a slow realisation over the first 3 years of our children's formal schooling that throwing the hustle and bustle of school mornings, homework pressures, teacher expectations, schoolyard conflicts and endless hours spent in the car on top of the everyday challenges of military life was not working for our family.  

Don't get me wrong, when my husband is home; life is orderly, we have a routine and a firm sleep schedule and for the most part, there's a beautiful rhythm and flow to our lives. But his absence for the many many field exercises and deployments that his role necessitates, creates a chasm in our experience of day to day living.   

When he's gone; huge, HUGE emotions come to the fore for every single one of us as we navigate yet another upheaval. Another transition of routine, another shake up to our stability and yet another period of transitioning through the stages of grief as we adjust to life without him.

These feelings are spectacularly amplified in little ones who struggle to process saying goodbye to their daddy; their superhero who just walked back in the door a week prior. They don't eat as normal, they don't sleep as normal and as you can expect: behaviors typical of anxiety and grief rear their heads on a daily basis. 

Nothing stays the same, and neither can our expectations of ourselves. 

I've spent my fair share of time feeling small and unworthy because my life is utter chaos for the weeks and months that hubby is away with the army. Try as I might to keep my usual routine of home organisation, housecleaning, physical exercise and social engagements; this isn't realistic when I'm juggling the overwhelming emotional needs of four young children and myself without a support system. Absolutely nothing about our lives stays the same once our military member walks out the door, and neither can our expectations of ourselves.

Can we please normalise the chaos?      

Image by Canva text to image

Raising small children amidst the chaos of army life is a season to be sure. It will pass more quickly than I care to imagine. But for now; can we please normalise the chaos? Let's not compare ourselves to a lifestyle that cannot possibly go hand-in-hand with military life and let's choose to ignore the temptation to believe the lie that everyone else has it together and you're the only one who's struggling to keep their head above water. It's all of us. We're all in this together.

We have a common experience, so let's normalise the real response: let's embrace the movie days on the couch because a little person or two needed that many cuddles to survive the day (maybe you did too!), let's embrace breakfast for dinner on those days we're bone weary and have nothing left to give, let's embrace living out of laundry baskets because holding a child close during their fiftieth meltdown of the day because they “just want daddy”, was more important than sorting and hanging the washing and let's embrace being late everywhere because none of you slept, or saying: “sorry, not today” to those whose expectations of us are completely incompatible with the unique challenges of military life. 

We are each other's village, so let's begin by being real with one another. Let's be brave enough to say out loud - this life is hard, it's a struggle more often than it's not. It's okay to not have it all together and it's okay to embrace the chaos for a season. One day, something new will come; but for now, it's enough to spend our days making sure our children know they are loved.