Got this one off another PC website. Though it's got nothing to do with PC, I thought it worth passing on here considering this particular chat board is devoted to our Military Loved Ones & their Families.

 

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The Seven Stages of Military Wifehood
by Tracy Wood

 

I wasn't born the calm, efficient, organized Army Wife I am today. Beneath this cool exterior is the woman who frantically tried to explain her infant's blue feet to a group of concerned German women and panicked at her husband's first promotion when called upon to pin on the new insignia.

Perhaps I should explain the baby's blue feet. I had foot-printed my son, Erik, for his baby book, but was unable to wash off all the ink. Later that cold January day, I decided to bundle him up and do some shopping. Unbeknownst to me, darling Erik, kicked off his warm booties to display his blue feet for the German shoppers. They thought his feet were purple from cold. I didn't understand much of their attempts to counsel me. After I managed to communicate to the large crowd that had gathered that his booties had fallen off, the women scurried off to find the baby's booties.

This experience taught me to see events from others' perspectives. Learning is what life is all about, and an Army wife is forever growing and changing. With tongue firmly in cheek, I classify the progression of Army wifehood in seven distinct stages.

 

Stage one: You don't know fatigues from a poncho liner. You wonder what all those "old" women do at those luncheons, attending a potluck dinner requires 10 long distance calls to mother.

 

Stage two: You sew patches on fatigues, attend luncheons, mistakenly iron the poncho liner (which melts) but otherwise are a perfect Army wife.

 

Stage three: You discover the post alterations shop and never sew again. Children enter your life and you forget to attend the luncheon you volunteer to host. The dog throws up on the poncho liner. Mom calls you for recipes. You ask your soldier husband to please drop off those infernal smelly fatigues at the cleaners.

 

Stage four: You've been promoted to a position of authority in the Army wife support system; younger wives look up to you. You get kids off to school, work on you career, tone up your body and try to set an example. You make lots of lists.

 

Stage five: Entering the fifth phase, your spouse hangs up his fatigues, dons desert camouflage, and leaves his family to go half way around the world to preserve peace. You miss him terrible, but rediscover the wonder of a love letter. The kids hang yellow ribbons. The poncho liner becomes the family security blanket.

 

Stage six: He returns home, and you once again are the perfect Army wife. But this time you can manage your family, your job, and your time better because you know what is most important.

 

Stage seven: You're close to retirement years and the chance for a new way of life. The thought of leaving the Army creates mixed emotions; you start to think about another tour. Your parents are starting to need you more than your children do. You find more time for yourself, and suddenly you are one of the "old" women at the luncheon.

 

And so we learn and grow. Each time we step forward, we leave a little innocence behind. For civilians, the props are different, but the story is the same.