48s Then and Now

At one point he was gone soo much,
they wanted to make him a welcome home sign!

My first 48 nearly killed me.  And for the next year or two they were a point of contention.  The kids were miserable, I was not confident enough in myself too handle everything by myself. And everything that could go wrong, did. And...I guess...it was just not what I had envisioned.  It was not what I had prepared myself for.

Now, totally different story.  Things will still go wrong, because it is a 48.  And I do find myself with a grumpy instant response when he asks about a 48,  even though there is no need for that.

But, I enjoy the time without him.  I am not sure if that is bad, but I enjoy my time and not feeling guilty about watching what I want or working on this blog or watching Doctor Who with the muppets.  I enjoy not having to be quiet when I wake up.  I have even learned to enjoy having the whole bed to myself.  

I was making the bed...emphasis on was...

If you would have asked me about that four years ago, I would have laughed...and then cried.  I would have gone into my room and cried because I felt like such a failure.  Like I had let the universe down because I was not adjusting to this new life with a seamless transition.  Instead, it is more like a learning experience.  I learned what I could handle - which is more than I thought possible.  I learned that I can say no, and if the world doesn't like it, they can either accept it or take the next exit.  I am still working on implementing this, but I am better at it than I was.  I learned that I can enjoy the candles in my bedroom and the calm that they bring, with my Nook and a drink, even when he is gone.  And that it is okay.  I have learned that laundry can wait until he is home to help and I can teach my girls how to through a football and baseball and skateboard, without feeling like I am stepping on his territory.  I have learned to embrace these 48s.  This is my time to be me. To me mom.  To enjoy the perks of being a firewife.

I did not marry and firefighter.  Many local firewives giggle at this blog and my FD t-shirts that I have accumulated through photography and social media...and firewife friendships.  But all of this has helped me to reach this place of contentment.  I have accepted that I may just be an introverted extrovert...that needs this time alone.  And that is okay.

Tomorrow he comes home from his 48.  Last night he was on the box and ran all day and all night.  Tonight he is actually at the engine he is assigned to, weird, really. My girls are at my in-laws and boys and I are bonding.  Life is good.

The Grass is NOT Always Greener

And we need to remember that.  

When I left the public schools and went to a Catholic School, I thought it was divine intervention.  I was THRILLED to be where I was.  They apologized for the class sizes being more than 25, all of my classes had laptops, parents actually came to conferences, I could teach - without having to deal with much in the way of classroom discipline.  It was heavenly, for that first year.

The second year, I took a peak behind the curtain and was not so happy with what I saw.  There were definite inequalities.  And personal responsibility lessons were lost to the fact that the student might not get into Harvard, with that A- in my Morality class.  Plagiarism was rampant.  Personal expression was muted if it did not fit within the box.  Money talks. 6th graders in tears because of the fear of the wrath that the B+ in Introduction to Computers would bring was such a heartbreaking.  What in the heck was I doing?

I did not fit into that box.  I had to buy a whole new wardrobe - skirts and blouses and dress pants; heels and dress shoes.  My tights were not necessarily embraced - they were too red, too purple, too argyle.  I am a Chuck Taylor and stolen husband button down shirt type of a teacher. I literally looked at myself in the mirror and asked what the heck I was doing.  What happened to "To thine own self be true."  I needed a jeans pass to feel comfortable in my own skin.

I had become a hypocrite.

The third year, I confessed to my husband that I was miserable.  I wanted to stick it out until the kids were done with high school - but that 14 years away.  What kind of person would I be?? Miserable old lady, lost within the confines of my box. I started looking right away in September for a new home.  Kids were not allowed to go on a trip for their Social Justice class because they would be spending the night in the inner city - locked in a beautiful church - and would be working with the homeless and hungry. And I shook my head. I don't need to air dirty laundry, but I was unhappy.  

When I broke my ankle on that Saturday last March, I found out on Monday that I needed surgery (after my FF had a endoscopy and colonoscopy - my surgeon happened to be in the same hospital a squeezed me in at the end of the day), administration couldn't understand why I took off for his surgery, if he was able to pick up the kids and drive. (He didn't get into the fact that his poking and prodding were at 8am and the anesthetic had worn off.)  Wednesday was my surgery - plate and screw inserted. Money was tight because of all the driving I had to do and the fact that my Catholic school salary took me back more than 10 years.  After my surgery, I was expected back to school immediately, even I was not allowed to drive until I had a cast and I still had narcotics flowing via a nerve block just below my knee. It was especially significant given the icy weather that caused the break in the first place. It was frowned upon that I was not back to school on that Friday. THIS blog got thrown in my face in disgust.  I was, after all, a THEOLOGY teacher...I don't think anyone actually read beyond the title.  They simply made their inferences from there.

Clearly, there was a message here, whether divinely originating or not.  That school was not my home and I needed to move on. 

So, I enjoyed a spring time recovery and found myself back in the public schools.  Taking all the technological ideas that I was graced with in the Catholic schools followed me into my classroom full of broken teenagers, just looking for someone to love them and guide them.  The service I was looking to carry out was right in front me all along.  It was here! In my classroom.

Anyone who says this is the easy path and we are overpaid and underworked, is completely full of crap.  We work non-stop.  I work through my lunch hour and after school.  At home.  In my sleep.  I live and breathe education - public education.  

For a while, I thought the grass would be greener if I did not have to fight the effects of poverty in my classroom.  It wasn't.  I just saw how much fertilizer was spread around to make that grass so pretty and I wasn't a fan.  I am back to where I am needed most.  My guilt has been abated.  Perhaps that is why I felt so guilty, it was not meant to be my place in this world.

Now, this is not a bash on Catholic Education.  There are amazing things happening in those schools, just like there are here.  It just wasn't for me.  And for the first time, my oldest was happy and THRIVING in school.  After trying charter schools and Catholic education, where he just wasn't blossoming.  Here, in a plain old boring, amazing neighborhood K-8 public school, he is thriving. The stories the teachers share with me about my muppets, leaves no doubt in my mind, they are where they need to be.  As am I.  I am a product of public education - Continuous Progress and Arts based Education.  That made me who I am.   My teachers had a major hand in molding me.  

And now it is my turn. 

Amazing Evolution of a Fire Wife

I am amazed at how we as fire wives learn to adapt and evolve.  Three years ago we were preparing for the academy.  I knew life was going to change, but I did not realize that I would be standing on my head most days.  That first year was miserable! 

 I was trying SO hard to be supportive, but I found more resentment than anything else.  The academy left me with 5 children instead of 4.  I was helping him study every night, trying to keep him awake, after chasing after the kids alone all day.  I mean, I had a 2 year-old!  I learned how to mow the lawn and solidified the fact that I HATE doing laundry alone.  I moved my classroom from our garage to a school more than an hour away from our home - with four children in tow.  My FF was learning his place in the fire world and the life of a cub was not exactly easy. Trick-or-treating was his first shift, his captain welcomed us with open arms, but my FF hurried us out - quickly - so as not to take any flack for us being there. Thanksgiving was alone, well, without my FF.  But, all I had to do was the side dishes, so all was well, or as well as it could be. When he was on shift Christmas Eve we visited Daddy with cookies at the firehouse.  I learned to play Santa ALL BY MYSELF - even with our oldest refusing to go to sleep because he needed to see Santa.  I learned to juggle everything when he was mandated for Christmas Day.  Everything that could go wrong, did, when he was on shift.  I am oh so grateful that I had family close by when there were ER visits that turned into admissions - and he was on shift.  Not many events for my shining moments highlight reel here.  But we made it through that first year - kind of clinging to each other, but together.

Two years ago, I  was still trying to figure out what in the heck was going on.  Still trying to manage the muppets, potty training and "stuff" by myself.  I was still learning to sleep alone and how to be happy in our marriage with him gone most of the time.  I was packing up our house (and unpacking) - alone.  I found myself in a city where I knew no one. BUT, I learned how to just be during this time.  Our house was broken  into - while he was on shift. My FF found himself in the med program, so I found myself with a 5 kids again. I found myself learning different classifications of drugs and protocol for various scenarios.  Again, he was in class all day, studying all night.  But this time, I did not have family 5 minutes away - I was truly on my own.  We hadn't made close friends, we weren't in this city long enough.  I learned that you just have to roll with things and deal with them.  

Last summer, I packed up our house - AGAIN - alone.  I unpacked and established our house, alone, AGAIN.  BUT, this time, I had a FF family next door - on the same shift.  We had never met until we came to look at the house.  My husband "knew" the FF from the department, but they were not friends.  But this time I was not alone.  My family was on the other side of town, but at least we were in the same city.  When something goes wrong on shift days, I literally have someone right next door to help with my muppets.  Football season sucked my soul, but having a fire family next door made it suck a but less.  When it was a shift day and I brought the three younger muppets home to eat and play, she would often take them and get them in the shower for me so I could make the hour and half round trip back to get the oldest.  

Somehow a FF was desperate to get New Year's Eve off, so my FF was home for Christmas Eve AND Christmas Day.  The muppets and I chilled and had sparkling apple juice for NYE.  My boys made it past midnight.  And it was just fine.  It was fun and it was bonding.  Would I have loved for my FF to be home?  Of course, but we enjoyed ourselves anyway.  We have learned to be our own people. 

This summer, I think we have finally found our groove.  It is not heartbreaking when we come to the firehouse and his rig is out.  In fact last night, daddy had a trade at a quiet house - back half of a 48.  And when we go there, you guessed it, the engine was out.  (My FFW gal next door said it is me - if the engine is out THERE, it is just me!  lol) No worries, I LOVE this neighborhood, so we walked over to the local Italian grocery story, grabbed some cookies for my FFW next door, commented on how many of these businesses had water out for their k9 customers and made our way back.  The engine pulled back into quarters while we were about a block away.  Perfect time.  We had watermelon with daddy.  Played in the engine, took a look at the pictures of the original house, with its horse drawn fire wagon - not even a steam engine.  And all was well.  We went to dinner with my dad, I got the kids to bed.  Earlier this week, I did all the 4th of July stuff, alone.  And for the first time.  That was okay.  I am okay when he's too busy for a phone call.  I appreciate when he his home for holidays, but it no longer rocks my being. 

Not only do the firefighters in our lives grow and evolve, but so do we.  We are amazing and strong and resourceful.  We just have to have faith in ourselves.  No matter where you are on the journey of a fire wife, know that it is a journey.  You will look at things through a different lens as the experience progresses.  Whether you are - 

pulling your hair out because he has back to back 48s and the babies are sick and there's no food in the house and the dog made a mess and...

or

wishing he would go back to work so you can watch what you want on TV or just read your newest Nook procurement.  

Muppets with my phone - yesterday's shenanigans.

These experiences shape who you are.  They strengthen your character and make you, you.  Love the time when your firefighter is with you.  Cherish those moments.  But also learn to love the time you have with yourself.  Learn one thing about your kids each shift or plan one activity for just you and your muppets.  That way not only do they cherish the fun that they have when Daddy comes home, but also the time when they don't have to share mommy with daddy.  Simple things - picnic lunch in the park with your girlfriend and her kids, glow in the dark bubbles, chalk drawings, a girls only movie night or a Foosball tourney in the basement.  Just have fun.  The laundry will still be there (trust me, it doesn't go away) but the kids are not always going to be there.

My FF will be home in about an hour.  My muppets have officially been worn out and are still sleeping.  Life is crazy, but these moments of peace remind me that this is life. Tomorrow is his last 24 hour shift for a while.  I am excited to have dinner with him and walk through the neighborhood with him every night.  I love having him home, please don't think I don't.  But, I have also learned to love the time with myself.  Love that firefighter, love your muppets and love yourself.  Keys to happiness, for sure.