Fire Family: A Post About The Fire Wife

Being a firefighter's wife takes a certain kind of person. Honestly, I didn't know I was that kind of person when Josh and I started dating 7 years ago. My family of origination have always called me dramatic, eccentric, loud, talkative...you get the idea. And I certainly am all of those things. I'm also pushy, stubborn, opinionated, determined and occasionally selfish. But as Josh's wife, as a firefighter's wife, I also have to have the ability to stretch myself to be whatever he and our family needs. And being that flexible, though it isn't always easy (and sometimes I wonder if it's possible) makes our little family tick.

I have to listen, even to the things that aren't said. I have to be able to read between the lines when he says "11 calls yesterday, 3 last night". That translates to me needing to handle the babies on my own for at least part of the day so he can rest and maybe nap. 3 nighttime calls means he had to get up and lose valuable sleep, even if they end up doing nothing on a call. Day or night, firefighter's still have to jump on the truck/engine, gear up on scene and prepare to act, doing whatever is necessary, though sometimes that means just standing by. Last shift they were at a meth lab from 3am to 830am. It was the 3rd meth lab Josh has been in these last 2 weeks.

That brings me to the emotional side of things. Another thing my family of origination says I am. And I am a crier so I'm going to do this quickly. My husband, the father of my children, my support system, my better half, puts his life on the line every time he leaves his "women" to go on-shift. There is no telling what the day will bring him to in this busy city and, though I don't like to think about it, the possibility of him not returning. He would say, like he always does, "Death is a part of life" but I am just not willing to accept that part for at least another 60 years.

On the other side of emotional, I have to be willing to lend an ear if he wants to talk about a difficult call, which isn't often, so when Josh does talk, it's important. A few months before Loralei was born he went on a call where a baby had been shot. Addi was 11 months old and the baby was about 6 months I believe. I think it was the first call that really hit home for Josh since having Addison. They arrived on scene to this little bleeding baby and helped get her to the hospital and Josh wasn't ever able to find out if she was ok or not. The hospital wouldn't release her stats or even give her a lovey he had purchased for her to snuggle with like Addison loves hers. And just a few days ago he had to respond to a call in our neighborhood and stopped in afterwards really quick to say hi. A kind 70 year-old man, who sat out front in his chair every evening watching his grandkids play, who waved to neighbors as they drove by, passed away in his sleep and the family didn't know he was dead. Josh had to tell them.

Though it's difficult for me to understand how he can see this type of thing so often, encounter this sadness more than most of us have to and be ok, he just does. It's part of the job. It amazes me and I can see the true joy he has in being around our family because of it. And knowing that life really is fleeting, seeing that and knowing that we really don't know how much time we have, it makes me a kinder person. It doesn't matter if both the girls were crying all day while he was at the station and I have been running non-stop from 5am to 1130pm alone, I still tell our girls I love them 100 times a day and kiss them and hold them as much as they allow. Josh and I tell each other good night every night. No matter how late I have to wait up for the call. You never know what could happen.

Speaking of being alone while my fireman does his thing, loneliness is a big part of being a firefighter's wife. I married Josh knowing that I would miss about 1/3 of his life. Every third night, I sleep alone. If you think that a joy, you have no idea the good a nighttime snuggle does for a relationship. Plus it means I have to be used to sleeping with someone and without someone. (I.E. he's a cover-hog and I freeze or I am cocooned and strangled.) 1/3 of the everyday family dinners, holidays, our marriage, the girls' lives and homework/plays/activities he will miss out on. 1/3 of my life I will basically be a single mother, taking care of the girls, bringing them where-ever, preparing meals, giving baths, all by myself. It's not an easy thing to know and walk into. Luckily for me, I have his family and mine close by for anything from emergencies to bringing food to holding a baby so I can shower.

We have fire family too. Need a carpenter? A plumber? Someone to help fix your car? Chances are there is a firefighter with a second job in the profession who can lend a hand, or advice. I often bake cakes for the station in thanks and just because. If you can't count on family, who can you count on? So in the long way around I guess I'm saying the fire service, though it is tough on a family, on a person, has improved us and ours. I never thought I could be as strong a woman as I have become, but I am. I have to be. I'm a firefighter's wife.

Easter cake 2014

My latest cake creation - Happy Easter!

Locked Up #Toddlerness

Anyone who has ever been around young children knows the boundless energy they seem to possess. Did this kid chug some coffee and a RedBull before I got out of bed or what?? As a stay-at-home-mom (SAHM) of two babies under two, I am constantly running from one mess to another all day while listening to crying, whining, giggling, baby-chatter, or worse, silence. Since we also have seven, yes you read right, seven, animals in our house, I feel compelled to vacuum every day and dust as much as possible so we don't drown in pet hair and dust. Most of the time I try to do my cleaning in the morning because everyone seems to have the most pep and happiness after breakfast before lunch. Well last Thursday, all of that was put to a screeching halt when my 18 month old daughter locked herself in her room...

I was actually in there with her beforehand, putting away laundry and feeling out how a nap would go down since a certain toddler was a little extra cranky that morning. She wasn't having any of it so I left her in her room and started down the hall when I heard her bedroom door click. Crap I thought, I left the pool noodle off. I went back to put it on so she couldn't smash her fingers but the door knob wouldn't turn. "No! Addison? Are you in there?" I quick checked her bathroom but it was empty. "Baby? Open the door please." The doorknob jiggled and she screamed. "Crap crap CRAP! I'm gonna get you out. Don't worry." I darted down the hall for the baby monitor thankful she was in her room and I could at least see her on the camera. Plus I know it's the safest place she could be stuck. 100% baby-proof.

Seeing that she was at the door playing with the lock, I ran back encouraging her to twist it the other way. Here's news folks, she can only turn it right. Her little hands haven't perfected the left-turn yet. "I'll be right back ok? Mommy has to go into the garage real fast for a tool. I'll be right back," I assured her. I took two steps from the door and heard the most gut-wrenching cry. My baby was locked up and I was running away from her. I know it breaking her heart in the moment. "I'm coming back Addison. I have to get you out." I bolted through her cries.

In the garage, my husband might have a system but I don't know what the heck it is. To me, it looks like mess mess mess and piles of tools. I almost tripped over the extra stuff in there because we've just moved into our new home a few months ago and haven't figured where everything goes so parts of the garage have become a gathering place for these random items. Anyway, I ran up to his massive red toolbox and began searching for a screwdriver small enough to fit into the tiny hole that was also a flathead because we have the turn locks. No luck. Hearing Addison crying out for me, I grabbed his power drill and bolted.

"I'm here honey, don't worry. Back up Addi. Mommy is coming in. Go get your lovey and paci off the bed." As she scrambled off I began to remove the screws on the knob and then took the outside handle off. I tried turning the lock part to unlock it but it wouldn't move. So I started pushing it through the center of the handle. All this time Addison was crying and freaking out. From her point of view the handle was shaking and moving on its own and Mommy wasn't by her side. "I'm trying to get you out baby. It's ok. Mommy is right here." I slammed the bottom of the drill into the handle hoping it would pop it out. Nope. And I terrified Addison. By this time, it had been 15 minutes and obviously I couldn't keep her entertained and calm and break in. So I called her Daddy. "Hi, don't panic because we are trying not to panic though we are panicking a little...Addi is locked in her room by herself...No, I'm not in there...Yes I tried to get her out!...Don't worry, I'll keep her calm. Just come help...Love you too, bye."

"Addison, Daddy is coming home! And look! Here's your kitty!" Mad Max, our youngest cat who is the same age as Addi, comes rounding the corner all chill and curious. I told her to stick her hand under the door and the second she did, Max did as I assumed and pounced. She giggled and I know felt better immediately. I laid on my back and looked under the door as she played with Max, holding her lovey with her paci in her mouth. Any time she started to get fussy, I reminded her Daddy was coming and to play with Max or hold my hand.

About another 20 minutes later Daddy bust in the front door and took two large steps to Addison's room where I was still laying on the floor. "Dada!" Addi yelled. "Yes, it's Daddy. Back up honey," he instructed. One large bang and a little twist and the doorknob shot through the hole and the door swung free. He checked her all over and then helped me up off the floor. Did I mention that I had Loralei in the Moby the whole time?? That's right, I was baby-wearing while running, squatting, bending over and laying on the floor. Loralei slept through it all.

After all that we didn't have the heart to make dinner so frozen pizza it was. And vacuuming waited til the next day.

Gains and Losses

Being a mom you lose pieces of yourself. Things like memory, for example. I used to be able to remember an entire grocery list and all of the coordinating coupons and execute the trip alone in no more than an hour. My life today, with two baby girls, ages 2 months and 18 months, I can't even fathom going with-out my husband, the 2 Ergo's and infant insert, the shopping cart cover just in case, the fully stocked diaper bag, my wallet, phone, and van keys...what am I forgetting? Oh! The list and coupons! See what I mean?

I've also given up my shame and privacy. The two go hand-in-hand, trust me. I do not sleep, eat, shower or pee alone. I don't check the mail alone, or vacuum alone, or do the laundry alone, or clean the cat box alone, or... You get the idea. I aim to shave my legs every three days max and when I say that I mean most of my legs because, chances are, halfway through the first leg one of the babies will start getting fussy and I will have to speedy shave with my old razor hoping to scrape at least majority of the hair off while trying not to knock the toddler on the shower floor in the head as she wipes the shaving cream off of me and onto her belly.

Speaking of shaving, I have had to give up any sense of personal hygeine or style. Deodorant? Nope, forgot that today. (See above.) I have no time to sit and paint my toes, leisurely pick out an outfit, style my hair in anything besides a ponytail, slather on any make up besides eyeliner and eyeshadow. The most I can do besides shower is to hastily smack some lotion on afterwards. I don't wear much jewelry now unless I stop to think about putting some on before running errands.

Not so much losing a piece of myself, but still a big loss for me, is hot food. Other mothers, especially breastfeeders with more than one offspring, will be able to relate. I feel like lunch time everyday, when it's just the girls and me, is the hardest. I go through the same motions every mealtiime and everyone enjoys their food except me.
1 Get toddler into the highchair
2 Get toddler food
3 Go back and get the right kid-sized utencil
4 Shoo dogs away
5 Pick up fork and hand back to toddler
6 Pick-up/un-Moby crying baby
7 Latch extremely unhappy infant to boob
8 Enjoy one quiet, still moment with happy girls
9 Get toddler more food of different variety
10 Attempt to make a plate one-handed for myself
11 Sit at table and take approximately one large bite
12 Get up to get toddler a cup
13 Sit and take another bite
14 Baby un-latches and spits up everywhere
15 Run to change clothes
16 Burp baby
17 Toddler finished and wants down to play...
You get the idea. I end up snacking all day feeling famished because lunch is never 100% satisfying.

You can see where I'm going with this right? You give up a lot of things being a mother, material and personal. I have had to trade cars with my husband and give up my beloved SUV for a minivan (which isn't too bad, it's actually quite handy, but that's an article for another day), stop listening to my wide-variety of music genres because I don't want the girls to hear any cussing or crude lyrics, and speaking of music I don't listen to it very loud anymore because I don't want to hurt their tiny ears. And I miss my writing. A lot. Writing was a HUGE part of myself that I just don't have time for anymore. Yes, right now sleeping takes priority over blogging, poetry, stories, whatever...

But you know what I've gained in all those losses?? What makes me not miss the old, maybe prettier, me?? My kisses have healing powers. My story-telling could rival the Irish. I get to feel tiny arms hug me just becuase they feel like grabbing on and open-mouthed baby kisses on my cheek. I get to hear her giggle just because the dog cocked his head to the side and his tongue rolled out. I get to see her excitement when Daddy comes home from the station and the adorable toddler toe-running. I get to rock a sleeping baby while the rest of the house is still and dark. A mess doesn't bother me anymore because it means they are learning about something. I get to share a thousand first moments and memories. I get to hear them laugh, out loud and in sleep.

So I'll roll out of bed before I'm awake. Even on the weekends. I'll give up coffee because it upsets the baby's tummy. I'll learn to live with hairy legs and a ponytail. I will listen to the Disney CD and I'll sing along to make them smile. I'll put a day of playing and learning before cleaning the sink of dishes. I know the next 20 years will go by fast. I know someday there will be no messes and no noise. I am never alone and I wouldn't have it any other way.

I am two little somebodies whole worlds. They are mine.

Unwritten

The pages turn no longer,
Language is silent;
my name dead on her lips.
The utensils of my craft lie abandoned,
alone.
I dream of her as a lost lover –
forever paused,
holding for my care once more
but the passion no longer grips my throat and squeezes
squeezes until questions unfold.
My arm sits still,
fingers twitching to grip the smoke of the past
but time is gone. The clock canters.
It gallops.
Icily, my body holds, waiting,
yearning for her touch again
to strike me in the witching hour.
Yearning for her to care for me
as I once did for her…

Life is a little thing

Little emotional rant: I'm having a hard time sleeping tonight...Josh had a hard day on the squad truck. He wouldn't give me any details because he doesn't ever want to upset me, but he had to go on a call around dinner time where a 6 month old baby was shot on the porch on a home in North Charleston. The news reported at 11 that it was inside and looked like the 4 year old sibling had found a gun to play with while the mother was in the yard...but Josh said it didn't look that way to him and that the baby had been left alone on the porch when responders arrived. He wasn't sure what the outcome would be since the baby had lost so much blood. Neighbors didn't see anything and only heard the shot. Where were the parents? Where was anybody? While this horrible moment was happening and Josh was dealing with it, I was playing with Addison's toes and watching her eat her watermelon and practice her sippy cup. 2 nights ago I finished her quilt and I went in there tonight while she was sleeping covered in it to just look at her and see that she is whole and safe and it occurred to me that I would do anything for her. People say things like that all the time but I would no hesitation jump in front of a bullet for that magical creature who sometimes makes me crazy and sleep deprived. I hate that Josh has to see incidents like that while on the job. It can't be easy and I can tell that since we've had Addison and become pregnant with Baby that it effects him a little more. When he called he asked me to hug her and Baby until he got home and could do it himself. I did and what I didn't tell him, what I don't tell anyone, is that I'm so glad it wasn't me. I don't think I'm strong enough to see that. Or is it just because I would rather be tortured for months than see my sweet baby girl hurt for a second? I couldn't sleep last night because Addison had nightmares every hour and tonight I can't sleep because I feel the pain of someone who's baby has a hole in them because they weren't watching, or worse, put it there themselves. I feel for the people who responded to the call, the doctors who had to operate on an innocent baby. I'm sure they all went home to hug their babies, be grateful that isn't their world. I am too. I'll take sleep deprived hours and playing with little baby toes any day. 

Get Well Soon cake

Cake I made yesterday afternoon. Yellow cake with homemade buttercream frosting.