Leading Mama

Sunday Soapbox: The World is Flat

If you're a military spouse friend of mine, you might be aware that I'm rankled by rank. In fact, I recently wrote an article about rank for Military Spouse magazine. 

 

There are community responsibilities senior spouses take on. We run fundraisers, organize events, bring the main dish to the unit picnic, visit families in need, and support our spouses' careers in myriad ways.  Without the efforts of senior spouses, the military family would be in sad shape indeed: Imagine a large rowdy family tended only by an absentee workaholic parent whose idea of nurturing is to say "Suck it up!" loudly and often.

 

Rank = Responsibility. I get that. I embrace it.

 

What rankles me is the relation of rank to privilege.

 

Recently, I was flabbergasted when a spouse of one of my husband's unit members asked if she was allowed to receive emails about base information directly, or whether I would be forwarding that information to her.

 

I am happy to forward what I have, I explained, but I'd be just as happy if she'd email the original senders and ask to be put on their mailing lists. Last I checked, there's no rank insignia on MY shoulder!

 

"I can do that?" she asked. "It's okay to do that?!" She was excited but mystified.

 

"Absolutely," I said. "Where information is concerned my world is flat."

 

I see no reason to keep other spouses in the dark about events or issues in our community. The more involved others are in the community, the happier they (and I) will be. I encouraged her to seek information directly from the source.

 

After some initial shock, she said, "That's not how it was at my last base." She looked like a kid who'd just learned that she finally graduated up from the kiddie table at Thanksgiving dinner.

 

She's excited to be treated like a fully participating member of the team, instead of a link in some military spouse's chain of command. And I'm happy to have a little help nurturing this large rowdy family. Inclusion feels better than privilege.

 

Whether or not you're a military spouse, I'm on the Sunday Soapbox to say this: if you're wearing rank, get over it. You aren't better than anyone else. We're all at the grown-up table now. The world is flat.

Image Credit: © Lhfgraphics | Dreamstime.com

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What's got you on your soapbox this week? Link up an opinion piece below.

 

 

Military Wife Life: Milspouse Friday Fill-In #46

It's been ages since I joined in on the Milspouse Friday Fill-In over at Wife of a Sailor. This week's questions are super interesting. Can't wait to read other milspouse's responses!

NOTE: I am on the lookout for milspouse-written blogs to feature in an upcoming issue of Military Spouse magazine. If you'd like to make sure I check out your blog in my search, leave a comment or email me. We're featuring blogs from all branches of service on a wide range of topics!

 

1. Are you a different person than you were five years ago? submitted by Sisterly Thoughts

The personality psychologist in me says, "No, I am the same person I always was." The traits that make me who I am haven't changed all that much:

• I am an information junkie. Love learning.
• I talk (almost) non-stop if I have someone to talk to. Sometimes I talk to myself, too.
• I love to cook and eat. Yesterday I made blueberry crisp with Little Man using berries we picked ourselves. Delish!
• I have more negative emotion than the average bear. I worry when I shouldn't. I get angry faster than I should. It's hard for me to let go when I get in a funk...my bad moods settle in like a stalled storm system, swirling around for hours.

But I'm different, too. My values have been re-tooled by marriage and motherhood. I don't expect perfection all the time. I'm more apt to reflect on why things happen and what they mean. Forgiveness comes easier than it used to.  

 

2. If you could go on Amazing Race, who would you take with you as your partner and why? submitted by Thoughts from a Poekitten

My sister, Jen, because I miss her. The Amazing Race would give us time to hang out. We wouldn't win, but we'd have tons of fun.  

 

3. Does Facebook or Twitter actually bring more stress or good in to your life? submitted by Just an Arizona Girl

Neither FB or Twitter cause me stress. I'd love to spend more time on both, but I recognize that other work is more important. Without FB, I wouldn't see my friends' kids grow up or learn about what's happening in their lives. I am terrible at keeping in touch. FB helps with that! Twitter is addictive and I try hard to keep it in check!  

 

4. June is National Soul Food Month- what's your soul food? submitted by NH Girl Displaced

Hmmm. Chocolate cake with espresso cream filling and chocolate ganache. And a glass of red wine.

Or thai chicken with basil.

Or aloo gobi (curried Indian cauliflower and potatoes).

Dang, now I am hungry.

 

5. If you could live in any other era than the current, which one would it be & why? submitted by Sugar in My Grits

I'd like to live in WWII America to experience the level of national camaraderie that generation experienced. Despite many challenges, the shared commitment to a cause must have been very powerful.

 

Sunday Soapbox: Show Me the Rainbow

We don't eat out a lot. There aren't many restaurants near our house and driving 45 minutes to have an hour-long meal with two impatient kids isn't relaxing.  Plus, kids' menus make me a little bit crazy.

 

Choices include:

Macaroni and cheese (usually Kraft)

Chicken fingers

Hot dog or corn dog

Hamburger or cheeseburger

Grilled cheese sandwich

and

Pasta with marinara (if you're lucky!)

 

What's my beef, you ask?

 

Three issues for the soapbox: variety (none), portions (huge) and sidedishes (starchy).

 

No matter where you go, the kids' menu has the same options. If your child is a picky eater, this is probably a good thing. When you have the same options every time, choosing is simplified. If your 3-year-old will eat nothing but hotdogs, a kids' menu without hotdogs would be disastrous.

 

But Little Man is an adventurous eater. His tastes -- thanks to inspiration from the Food Network and my culinary experimentation -- are pretty sophisticated. If he has his way, Little Man orders clams in red sauce, grilled salmon, and chicken enchiladas. He dives right in to a plate of calamari, tentacles and all. I encourage it, even if it makes me cringe inside.

 

Sometimes we order an appetizer as his meal ($9.95 instead of $4.95) to give him access to better options. Sometimes I order what he wants and we share it: last night I ordered the sea bass to accompany his "pasta with butter sauce". Without the fish, his dinner would have consisted of the following:

 

Rolls with butter from the bread basket 

2 1/2 cups of ziti swimming in butter

A 16-ounce "kid's cup" of chocolate milk

 

It doesn't take a dietician to see that this is unhealthy. The portions are too large, even for an adult. There's no protein, no vegetables, and no fruit.

 

Why is it that restaurants serve adult entrees with appropriate side dishes but can't put a few broccoli bites and some melon onto a kid's plate?

 

Some kids may not eat the broccoli. I get that. But mine -- and many others -- will. And most would eat some fruit.

 

Restauranteurs hear this: when parents buy dinner out for our kids, we're feeding their brains, not just their bellies. Oversized greasy-starchy kids' meals skew kids' expectations about what makes a meal.

 

I shouldn't have to supplement a kid's "meal" with protein and veggies from my own meal to anchor the pyramid, round out the rainbow, or balance the plate. There is no nutritional model known to man that endorses macaroni and cheese with a side of french fries.

 

It may appear that my kids are making their own food choices in your restaurant, but I decide if and when we come back. If I can't score a reasonably balanced plate for under $8, chances aren't so good.

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That's what has me on my soapbox this week. If you've got an opinion to share, link up your post below and share your thoughts in the comments. Links are live all week. Please be respectful and don't link up posts that don't fit the Sunday Soapbox theme. They will be removed.

 

NOODLES PREPARED FOR BOILING
© Tomo Jesenicnik | Dreamstime.com

Sunday Soapbox: Zip It, Weiner

Anthony Weiner got a lot of press this week and I’m sure he will get lots of advice. Political consultants will tell him what to say and when to say it. Armchair psychologists will suggest he suffers from sexual addiction. He’s already taking a “brief leave of absence to seek treatment.” That must mean he’s sick, right?

 

This fine Sunday I am up on the soapbox to offer a woman’s point of view. Listen up, Weiner:

 

You are not sick. You are stupid. You are arrogant. Your moral compass is broken. A brief leave of absence won’t cure that.

Let me explain.

 

1. Women are not impressed by pictures of body parts. And if we were, your scrawny chest wouldn’t win us over. We like romance. We like men who are powerful and devoted. We like to talk, we want you to listen. That is what turns us on. If you can talk intelligently and listen thoughtfully even when we’re dressed up sexy (or completely naked), you get bonus points.  

 

Bottom line: Zip your pants. Put on your shirt. Talk to your wife. Listen. Listen some more. If she’s still into you, kiss her feet. You don’t deserve her.

 

2. Social media is social. That means it is public.  Meeting someone on Twitter is like meeting them in a crowd of 40,000 fans at a sporting event. When you flirt with a woman online, in public, we know you’re putting on a show, like those guys with the painted faces who draft dorky signs incorporating the letters E, S, P, and N. Our interest is superficial. We want to see how far you’ll go. We’re laughing. At. You.

 

Bottom line: You messed up. Big. In front of everyone. You owe heartfelt apologies to the women you courted, your family, and your constituents. Your credibility is gone. You should apologize. Big. In front of everyone. Resign. Start over. Give the people of New York a do-over. They deserve it.

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What's got you on your soapbox this week? Link up an opinionated post and share some comment love. Remember: Opinions are good. Disrespect is not. Links are live all week.

Sunday Soapbox: He Must Really Love You

In between sessions at the Philadelphia Writer’s Conference Friday night, I snuck into the bar in the hotel lobby for a glass of wine. I took a seat at the end of the bar, ordered a cabernet, and opened a magazine. I read for a few minutes before other conferees started trickling in.

 

Writers, it seems, like to drink (a little). And talk ( a lot).

 

The seats at the bar filled up with writers and editors. I fit right in. Sort of.

 

I recognized the name of the man who sat down next to me; he was on the list of conference speakers. As we talked, I mentioned that I’d been in New Jersey less than a year, and that we’d moved here due to Leading Man’s Air Force career.

 

He said he was staying in the hotel, even though he lived close. I explained I was driving home, because it wasn’t that far. Our perspectives, it seemed, were quite different.

 

“I have two kids and two puppies at home,” I added. “My husband is watching them while I’m here.”

 

“He must *really* love you,” he responded.

 

“Yes,” I stammered, surprised by his stealthy, unintentionally sexist comment.

 

“I earned some super-wifey bonus points by going it alone during four long deployments,” I added, feeling some strange need to justify my husband’s behavior.

 

The bottom line is that I take care of two small children and two puppies all day, every day. I also work from home, in between wiping noses, folding laundry, and fixing toys, dinner, and sibling squabbles. Writing is my work, and I approach it with dedication and tenacity. I squeeze it in. I gut it out. And Leading Man supports me. He closes the door to my office to give me distraction-free writing time on weekends. I know; I’m fortunate.

 

Where’s the rant, you ask? This is Sunday Soapbox, after all. And it’s starting to feel a little lovey-dovey.

 

Here’s my problem:  

 

No one will ever tell Leading Man that his wife must *really* love him because she’s willing to take care of two kids and two puppies while he works. They assume it’s my job, even when they meet me in the context of my work. If taking care of kids and puppies reveals anything, it’s that I *really* love my kids and my puppies.

 

In my book, Leading Man doesn’t get super-hubby bonus points for caring for our kids and our puppies. The wet-nosed, laundry making brood is as much his responsibility as it is mine. He is not “babysitting” when I am away. He is parenting.  

 

It's true, Leading Man supports my career because he loves me. And I appreciate the ways he facilitates and supports my writing. But he takes care of our children and our puppies because he loves them. He loves spending time with them, even if it is exhausting.

 

And so this morning, I’m on my soapbox to say dads don’t babysit their kids, they parent them. Please, don't assume the kids are my responsibility. We share that. And we share the credit, too.

 

FIVE CYGNETS AND A SWAN
© Tatyana Chernyak | Dreamstime.com

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What's got you up on your soapbox this week? Link up an opinionated piece and comment away. Links are live all week.

Six Word Mommy Memoir

 

 

Two tots bathe. 

 

One poops.    

 

Bleach.

 

 

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This post inspired by a prompt from Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop and tonight's after-dinner show at our house. Really. I couldn't make this stuff up.