Commander

Month of the Military Child

Now that we’re in our “forever home” (I hope), it’s easy for me to settle into a normal suburban-mom routine. Since Erik takes the VRE to the office, the only place I see his uniform is in the laundry room. None of my neighbors are in the crazed pre-PCS purge mode. And I won’t be spending this spring scouting out new schools.

Then I was jolted back to reality.

“Do you miss your daddy?” my son asked his friend, whose dad is deployed. “It’s OK to be sad. It’s almost summer, and then he’ll be back when it’s time to go back to school.”

Who knows where the conversation went from there (I suspect it had something to with Mario or, maybe, Beyblades) – I had to walk away … or risk being caught teary-eyed.

My son was 4 when Erik deployed. I didn’t think it had left such a lasting impression. At the time, I hated his reaction: He didn’t listen to his teachers, he didn’t listen to me, he acted like a clown to gain attention from anyone foolish enough to acknowledge, and he whined … a lot.

But three years later, I’m so proud of the little boy who learned so much from that difficult time. And I love that he had the courage to comfort his friend.

Military kids are as diverse as any other group of kids, but I think they gain an early understanding of some qualities many adults struggle to master: Empathy, unconditional support, resilience.

April is the month of the military child.

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Introducing: MilKidz Club

I’d like to say that I knew what I was getting into when I married my husband … the Air Force … the DoD. But I didn’t. And I sure had no idea what it meant to be a “military brat.”

My parents have lived in the same house my entire life. I’m not going to be exact, but that’s more than 40 years. In my mom’s life, she’s had three addresses. I’ve had more than that in one year. So have my kids – and my youngest is only 5.

I also remember my cousin, just a few years younger than me, say to my grandfather, “Uncle Frank, I LOOOVE your home.”

He was talking about our hotel room.

That was my first glimpse into the life of a military child. Little did I know, that would become my reality a few decades later.

Military kids are a resilient group; they really don’t have a choice. Every few years, they pack up everything they own, say their goodbyes, then move on to a new house, new school, new friends.

Blue Star Families is trying to make that all a little easier with its newest program, MilKidz Club.

Blue Star Families (http://www.bluestarfam.org) celebrates and supports the nation’s military through service and volunteerism, community leadership, and involvement in patriotic activities. MilKidz Club connects military kids – regardless of rank, branch of service or military installation – and provides them the resources, mentoring and opportunity to become the next wave of leaders in their communities.

With their parent’s approval, military kids can join MilKidz Club online or at a MilKidz event, and then connect with other members at their local installations.

MilKidz Club has three main components:

• Service & volunteer opportunities
• Community & civic engagement activities
• Patriotic & social events.

Set to Launch!
The MilKidz Club – made possible through a generous donation from Onsite Health – debuts Sunday, April 1 at the Celebration of the Military Child Outdoors in the Prince William Forest Park, 18170 Park Entrance Road, Triangle, VA from noon to 4 p.m. Along with its partners – the Sierra Club, Mission Outdoors; Armed Services YMCA; National Military Family Association and Outdoors Alliance for Kids – MilKidz Club will connect military children with the outdoors by helping them enjoy and explore the lands they and their parents sacrifice to protect. More than 300 military kids and their parents are expected to attend.

 Register here: http://www.regonline.com/register/checkin.aspx?eventid=1067103.

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Most Wonderful Time of Year? Not Exactly.

Christmas decorations are packed away (maybe … there might still be some lights buried in the holly trees flanking the house). Now we enter my most dreaded time of year: Tax season.

Before I was married, I LOVED tax season. I could easily fill out the E-Z form in less than an hour. I’d spend the following weeks checking the mailbox for the much-anticipated refund that would finance my shopping spree.

Then I got married. Our first joint filing wasn’t too difficult. The only challenge was filing two state taxes: Erik’s state of record is Louisiana, and I was a Virginia resident. Pretty easy.

Then I added a dependent. Moved to a new state. Bought a house. Became a dependent. Added another dependant. Moved to another state. Bought another house. Then rented out the first house.

Not complicated enough? Investments. Deployments. Hazard pay. State-specific exemptions.

I’m not even sure how to determine my residency. I have a South Carolina driver’s license. But I haven’t actually lived in that state since July 2010. We did live with my parents in Pennsylvania for a few months. And now we live in Virginia. But Erik’s state of record is still Louisiana.

As much as my head is spinning – and it is – I don’t think I’m alone. Pretty much everyone I knew in South Carolina – military and civilian – was a homeowner. Now, many of us are reluctant landlords, living hundreds of miles from our homes … I mean, investment properties.

Each day the pile of receipts grows. More questions. Some answers. By the end of the month, I hope to know if I can plan that annual shopping spree. Or at least enough to spring for a babysitter and nice dinner for two.

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Who's Your Boss?

I cast my first presidential ballot back in 1988 (ouch! ). I was in college and our four-person room was split. I think. I know where I stood … and it wasn’t behind the same candidate of at least one of my roommates. I’m still not sure about the other two – I think their choice was to dodge the sometimes overly aggressive “discussions.”

I have to admit, I’m not a day-in, day-out politico. But every four years, for about six months, I am captivated. And it’s about that time of year again.

In 1996, I nearly lost my mind when my then-boyfriend announced his support for Perot. I think I managed to regain my sanity by reasoning that all politics is local – regardless of the presidential outcome.

Fast forward a few decades. The President, Commander in Chief, is my husband’s boss. And pretty much every decision he makes has a direct impact on our family.

Let the games begin!

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