You only need to meet me for 5 minutes before you are likely to hear two things:
- I have met Taylor Swift (Let me know if you ever want to hear about it, I love to tell the story!)
- My husband is a firefighter.
If you are talking to me, I am likely thinking in my head of ANY possible way I can to incorporate both of those tidbits into the conversation. Why? Well:
- It’s Taylor Swift….HELLLOOO
But I suppose I should focus on the main topic of this post and digress from Tay Tay. If I must!
Pride, there is an overwhelming sense of pride when your husband is a real-life hero. I am in awe of him and his coworkers. I am in awe of everyone who chooses a career of service.
But if I am being totally honest, there are downsides, too. As I type this, we are just a few days away from Thanksgiving. A Thanksgiving that will be spent apart from my husband. Next year he will miss my daughter’s 14th birthday, my 40th birthday, Thanksgiving, and Christmas… not to mention a ton of days in between where I just miss my husband and would like to have him home. I cannot even begin to know how people in the military handle their schedules and lifestyles. I also know we can celebrate any day, but still…boo!
So I know my whining is a bit bratty, but sometimes it is just hard. It is hard to schedule something knowing that his ever shifting schedule will sometimes have me getting two kids to two separate events at the same time. Juggling my work schedule, two kid’s school schedules, activity schedules and his work schedule. It is hard having one way when he’s home, and a different way when he’s away. It is hard to see an incident on TV and wonder if he’s there, and if he’s safe. It is hard to manage his terrible sleeping patterns after a night at the fire house. The fact that when he started the job we had to elect who we wanted to be his pallbearers if something were to happen… ummm no! The sadness in his face when he runs a hard call, especially one that involves kids.
As much as I love it and feel the pride, sometimes it can be hard.
As mamas, we all juggle. We all have days where we are just hanging on by the skin of our teeth waiting for the day to be over. This is a glimpse into my life.
I did not marry a fireman.
I didn’t marry a ‘run into burning buildings, risk your own safety’, man.
At the ‘seems like a lifetime ago age of 20’ I began a life with an artist.
A sit behind a desk or computer safe and sound, creating… artist.
I did not sign up for:
– My spouse being gone for 24 hours, let alone 48, and God save us all, the dreaded 72.
– Juggling being a single parent on those days, in a life we built for two parents on deck. Let me not even mention that I’m expected to cook at least one meal during those days…um no!
– Phone conversations being cut short due to alarm bells ringing and someone having an emergency even though I was “ugh, just getting to the good part of my story!”
– Funerals. Coworkers who become family, passing away and forever missing them.
– Holidays apart.
– The glazed look on non fire people’s face when you try to explain the schedule. “Nooo. Here, let me show you…three days on, every other day. Four days off. Easy…no?!?”
– The amount of effort you have to muster to NOT throat punch someone when they say “but aren’t you scared he won’t come home”…”I wasn’t scared, until you brought it up… jerk”
– The knowledge that coworkers know more about you than possibly your own friends or family. Some of which may be true.
After nearly 15 years on this wild fire ride, I must say…I didn’t sign up for it. But I wouldn’t trade it for the world. There are very few things in life that make me as proud than to be the wife of this man, doing this job. I could never put into words what being a part of this fire family has meant to me. It is one of the greatest blessings of our lifetime.
– Knowing you have nut jobs you can call for anything.
– Warm greetings with hugs when you visit the station.
– Holidays spent with your other family.
– Caring and praying for others because you love them.
– Instant laughter.
– Knowing some of their stories…which also may or may not be true.
– Kids running up to your guy saying “you’re a fireman? That’s so cool!!!”
– The familiar grin of a fellow fire wife that says “I know, I get it.” Bonding with those great women who teach you the ropes.
– The pride when you see lights and sirens. I nearly swell up in tears every time.
– The incredible hotness that is your guy in bunker gear. Dear sweet Lord above thank you!
It is who we are.
It is a piece of thread woven from each of our hearts to the next.
It is family.
We are family.
We are fire.
As we approach Thanksgiving, thank you to all the men and women who serve. In many aspects, not just fire. I am thankful for each of you.
But especially to the fire family I know and love…thank you, thank you, thank you.
PS. I have met Taylor Swift. The End.