Hero

Dear Perfectionists and The Stressed: Please remember — just because you can do anything does not mean you can do EVERYTHING. Try to relax
                   ~ Elizabeth Gilbert (the author of Eat, Pray, Love) on Twitter



*****

I have made it known that I usually volunteer on Friday mornings at a local children's hospital.  And the other Friday was no different.

In typical fashion, I parked my car, walked across the pedestrian bridge, and was ultimately greeted at the entrance desk, which was full of about 8 volunteers.  Those are the errand runners.  Need a chart taken from department A to department B? They got your covered.  Need flowers taken up to a room?  They got your covered. 

I did my usual greeting of "Good Morning Everyone!" and everyone replied with a warm "good morning."  Bob, who is one of my favorites, asked me how I was. He used to fly a C 141 back in the day, so we have a lot of fun sharing pilot/aviation stories. I was honest and blunt to his question and answered with a "oh, fine...Steve and I are in a fight, so you know how that goes." Yes, I wear my heart on my sleeve.

Suddenly, all the men chimed in with a "ohhh...better watch out...he is in the dog house...what did he do wrong?"

And here is where I could have just unloaded and told everyone how much of an ass Steve is and how much he sucks and how much he is wrong...but, I couldn't.  Our fight wasn't all about him...it was mostly about me. 

****

I have mentioned before I think I have a brain tumor.  On top of the dizziness, I have also been INCREDIBLY irritable lately.  Not to mention, the last week at work was just CRAZY beyond control.  I was having a very significant client issue.  I also have a friend who is pregnant from her second round of IVF.  Last week she was having some issues, and that is emotionally exhausting.  Top it off, I have a spirited daughter that I love to pieces one minute, and then want to throw myself in front of the train the next.  Let's not forget the morning, mid-week, where my spirited little one was puking at 4am, 6am, 8am. That meant a day off of work for me (read: more stress in getting things set back up the next day), lots of laundry, and exhaustion.  I think you get the picture.

Basically, anytime Steve would call in on his trip, I was distant on the phone.

Is everything ok? he would ask.

Yeah, fine.  I would reply.  And it wasn't...

You pilot wives know what I am talking about when it comes to phone conversations.  Sometimes conversations with our pilots are flowing and smooth and great and perfect. 

And then there are conversation where he is on some damn air train and the damn "woman" is announcing every single fucking stop: "next stop, terminal B, where you will find baggage claim..." Oh, SHUT THE HELL UP!  Those conversations always end with  "I can't hear you...call me later."  CLICK! 

And then there are conversations where HE is pissy.  So, you get off the phone quickly because you don't want to add fuel to anyone's fire. 

And then you have conversations where YOU are pissy.  He asks how you are, and your are "fine."  Everything is "fine."  I do this for two reasons: 1. I just don't want to talk about it.  and 2. you want to pretend that you can hold it all together and keep house and home and work and mom totally under control when he is gone.  Plus, there is no sense in telling him all the details when he can't help you. 

And when case #2 happens a little too much and you keep pretending to be holding everything together, things just boil inside you...and boil...and boil...until Mount St. Joanna erupts the evening her unsuspecting husband gets home from a long 4-day trip. 

*****

Around 3pm, the day that Steve got home, I called him and asked him to get the kids from school.  I was working late, like 1 1/2 hours late!, and knew it would save me from having to get the kids.

So, when I pulled into the driveway after 5p, Steve was up on the workbench in the garage installing some hanging shelving.  The kids were down at the play set. 

I then walked into the house, put my stuff down, and immediately noticed dishes all over the counter.

Note to all pilots: when you are home all day, and there are no children that you are caring for, DO NOT, and I repeat, DO NOT leave YOUR dishes on the countertop for YOUR wife to clean up after working 1 1/2 hours late.

Folks, the sight of those dishes was my trigger to erupt.  Yes, Mount St. Joanna erupted.  And it was not pretty.

I won't go into all the juicy details of the situation, but let me tell you some key points: Steve actually left the house to drive to cool off after our exchange of heated words...which left me crying in front of the kids.  As Steve stormed out of the house, CC looked right at me and said "that wasn't a good idea."  The kids were stunned.  I was a mess.  Steve and I didn't really speak for about 2 days.  I wanted to punch his face every time I saw him...and I am sure he wanted to do the same to me. 

The fight was exhausting.  It was horrible.  And frankly, it was unnecessary.  After some days, a bit of talking and a bit of texting, we made up.  I was about to leave for a night out for a bachelorette party, when we finally reset ourselves. As I was loading my stuff into the car he came over and gave me a hug. I told him to just give me time (I never recover instantly from fights.) I reminded him again that this wasn't about him, but rather about me. He pulled back from the hug, dropped his head back and said in a frustrated/whiny/concerned way "Joanna, why are you trying to be the hero?"


*****

Once in a blue moon I will record a video for work. Well, after my last video I got a quick peek at my performance. The very first thing I noticed were the bold lines between my eyes. I am actually considering botox for these lines, and even Ben notices them.  He will ask me "Mommy, why are you mad?"

 

 

 
Right after I got home from work, I ran upstairs to find this book:

A number of years ago I saw Mac Fulfer speak at a conference, and his session was all about Amazing Face Reading.  In short, he believes that every line on your face tells all sorts about your personality. Well, here is his description of those lines:

Folks, I am too hard on myself. I demand too much of myself. I focus on being right and exact.  I demand more upon myself than I ever would of anyone else.  Whether I like it or not I force myself to get the job done.


*****

Do you all see where I am getting to in this post?  I am too hard on myself.  Because of this, I don't always get the help from others that I need, because I want to be perfect...the hero.  Well, you know what happens when you don't ask for the help you really should be getting?  Eruption!  Disaster!  Big problems!

Now that all this is in hindsight, let me break this down and offer some advice.  To start, us pilot wives can sometimes have too much on our plates.  This can be stress at work, or stress with the kids, or lack of sleep, or emotional stress.  When your pilot is flying the friendly skies, he is away and most times can't help.  A phone call does shit in helping with your 3-year-old when she is puking all over herself multiples times during the night.  So, you have to deal with that situation on your own.  When you have to work late and stress about picking the kids up on time, a phone call does shit when your pilot is 3 time zones away.  You have to carry this stress - you have to force yourself to get the job done...BECAUSE THERE IS NO OTHER WAY. 

So, in order to balance things out...pilot wives: TAKE A BREAK WHEN YOU NEED IT!  Don't wait until it is too late, because that will just end in disaster.  If you feel yourself getting out of control, take a break.  It is the best thing you can do.  Don't feel guilty.  Do it!  You deserve it, and you need it!

And to the pilots, recognize the warning signals (like when everything is "fine") and FORCE your wife to take a break.  Don't say things to her like "you are being so cold to me."  Why?  Because she is being cold to you because the alternative is that she screams and bites your head off.  So, read the warning signs and when necessary saying things like "you deserve a break"...and give her a break.

I have been at this pilot lover thing for 13+ years now, pilot wife for almost 10 years, and mom for almost 6 years now...and I am still learning the way.  I am still learning about myself and my relationship.  This fight was big - as big as they get in my house - and it was a great learning experience.  The biggest thing I learned from this fight, that I want to pass along to my fellow pilot wives, is simple...you don't always have to be the hero. 

The cranky pilot

Day 3 of a 4-day: My boss walked into the office after a ski trip to Aspen, and within a couple minutes he said to me "I have a question for Steve..."

Basically, he wanted to know if sterile below 10K was 10K from sea level or 10K from the elevation of the airport.  Again, since he was just coming from Aspen (around 5k elevation), he felt the sterile light was off pretty quickly after they took off, so he was curious.

So, when Steve called me a couple hours later, I asked him.

Big mistake!

He was tired.  He was tired and cranky.  He had just flown a "reverse red-eye" the night before.  He left the east coast around 10pm, and landed somewhere on the west coast around 4am body clock time.  And I am not leaving out the details on purpose...really, I don't recall what cities he was leaving and flying to...there are just too many to always remember.  He could have been in DC (DCA or IAD? again, not sure) and flew to SFO.  Maybe EWR to LAX?  Maybe BOS to SEA?  Not sure.  Oh, maybe EWR to SFO?  The possibilities are endless!  Doesn't really matter either...you get the gist. 

Anyway, so when Steve called in around 11am, my time, he probably just woke up.  I should have just said "good morning, honey.  Hope all is well. Call me later."  Yes, sometimes our conversations *are* that short.  Usually, I can tell his mood and do what I think is best to keep peace so that neither of us get pissed off.

Instead I got into the question at hand.

Me: Is 10K from sea level, or from the elevation of the airport?

Steve: from sea level, mostly...

and then I started in on the more specific questions.  I should have not done so.  The conversation QUICKLY escalated to near disaster.

In short, he was making the point that there is a lot to do below 10K feet, so that is the general marker. In my head I was thinking if sea level to 10k feet means lots of work, how can you do all that work within a shorter time frame (5K to 10K feet?) 

He wouldn't listen to my thought process...and just talked over me.

All I did was ask a question...stupid, cranky pilot.

I quickly stopped the conversation in hopes to preserve our sanity and marriage.  In moments like this, all I say is "call me later.  Good bye."  And we hang up.  We both know a line was crossed, and it be best to stop talking. 

I stood up, threw my phone on my desk, went to the restroom down the hall, and came back to find this text message:
10000 feet is used generically...the same altitude regardless of the airport for consistency...so you don't miss it...if you do it the same way every time, you will be less likely to forget.

Enough said. 

The cranky pilot...and the pilot wife that puts up with this shit from time to time. 

**

On Monday and Tuesday I was a juror in a civil case about a traffic accident back in 2007.  Overall, the experience was really cool.  The courtroom, the people, the judicial system, the judge, the jurors...all VERY interesting!  There was just so much to talk about regarding the experience.

In our typical fashion, the evening of day-4 when Steve gets home, we sit in the family room and talk.  Sometimes with the TV on, sometimes not.  Sometimes drinking beer or wine, sometimes not. 


** Let me set Steve's physical situation at this point in time - that morning he had just finished a 2-leg red-eye.  And let's not forget the reverse red-eye in that pairing too!  He was beat.  He was basically a walking zombie when I got home from work.  His eyes were blood shot and he was quiet and looked exhausted.  He came to life a little bit around dinner.  But, I knew this trip really fucked with him.  He said that the way the trip was laid out he couldn't plan sleep right, and it all just added up.  This trip is as bad as they come in terms of fucking with you, and you bet Steve made that point known to the powers that be.  Pilots wives are keenly aware of things like this, and know how to act accordingly to keep peace in the house until he fully recovers.  Take Saturday morning, Steve was the one to sleep in while I got up with the kids, even though it was MY morning to sleep in.  I knew he wasn't totally set back to normal yet, so I did what I felt was best to get him back to normal. **

Well that evening, after the kids were down and we settled into our typical fashion, I was sitting in the rocking chair and Steve was lounging on the couch.  I was drinking some raspberry tea.  There was a basketball game on the TV.

I started to talk about the jury duty experience.  The conversation was going fine for a bit, until I started talking about a fellow female juror.  I kept talking about this gal, with my head turned to the TV, and suddenly Steve says "Joanna...I didn't hear a thing that you just said."

"What?" I asked him, almost in shock...I mean, I was mid-sentence!

"I am sorry, I was reading an email about our contract" he responded.

"I thought you signed your contact" I demanded.

"We did, but it doesn't mean that the company is holding true to it, so the union sent out an email" he said.  "Tell me what you were saying..."

"Oh hell no.  You won't be hearing any more about this gal" I said, pissed.

"JOANNA...I *HAVE* to read these emails!" Steve said, totally agitated.

Steve, agitated at me...because *he* wasn't listening?  Um, what am I missing here?  "Then you should have told me you received an email, and you needed a minute." 

Boy did that turn my "you're gettin' some tonight" switch to OFF!  My attitude was instantly transformed.  This cranky pilot shit is for the birds!  I wanted to erupt.

I sat there quietly for a minute or two, fuming.  I stood up, neatly folded the blanket that was covering me, placed it on the chair, and walked right upstairs to bed.  I was asleep before he crawled into bed some time later.  There was no sense in starting an argument, since I knew he wasn't in a normal mind-set.  I bit my tongue and kept peace. 

**

At this point in Steve's career, he is able to manipulate his body clock to fly safely.  5:15a van times?  No problem.  Red-eyes? No problem.  Reverse red-eyes?  No problem. 

However, the problem then surfaces at home - the second he walks in that door.  Lucky me.  Certain trips just add up, day after day, and the result is one cranky-ass pilot.  Sometimes you think that no paycheck is big enough to deal with this shit.  Welcome home honey, now go back where you came from!   And, after about 3 days, he recovers...just in time to leave again.
The life of a pilot wife continues...

funny keyword searches

When you type in pilots are assholes, you are linked to my blog.

When you type in marrying a pilot, you are linked to my blog. 

These phrases are called "keywords"  and I get reports on what keywords are used that find my blog.

I could get all marketing on you, but I will spare you.  Rather, after reviewing the thousands and thousands of keywords that have been linked to my blog, here are the ones that jump out at me:

About pilots and pick up lines:
(these keywords were used to find my blog)
Pilot pick up lines
pick up lines for pilots
airline pilots picking up girls at airports
great pick up lines: hey, I'm a pilot
how to pick up chicks as an airline pilot
picking up airline pilots

**

Ok, so my take on the whole pilot and pick up line...they probably don't work.  Granted, only one pilot has ever hit on me, so I should make that point known, but since I married a pilot I have some say in the matter. 

Let me set the scene of the night Steve and I met: I was a junior in college and a group a girls and I went out to a bar. 

This really was taken the night I met Steve...I am the second on the left. 
 

I had zero expectations for the night...just a fun night out with the girls.  Low and behold, this blond guy locked in on me.  At the time I was talking to "Greg the accountant" and the blond guy thought to himself 'oh, that is too bad that she is with someone.'  A bit later, right before blondie was about to leave the bar, he said to himself 'I am going to check her out one more time...if that guy isn't around her, I am going to introduce myself.'  Sure enough, the accountant had left and in swoops the pilot.    Absolutely true story...this is how Steve met me.  AND, he never used the "hey baby, I'm a pilot" as a pick up line.

Moral of the story: Steve didn't use a pilot pick up line on me...and he landed me.  Had his intentions been to get laid that night, then maybe a pilot pick up line would have worked...but, not on me! 



OK, let me dissect this exact phrase: Airline pilots picking up girls at airports:  So, let me think of all the places pilots are at airports, at least from what I understand:

- in the crew rooms.  Um, sorry...probably no picking up going on there.  They are too busy sleeping, getting paperwork, or bitching to fellow pilots about contract talk (of course, this is a scene made up in my head...who the hell knows what talk goes on inside a crew room). 

- in the terminals...if they are coming from a crew room they are probably running a bit behind since they spent too much time bitching, so you will catch them with with their head down and goin'.  If they are coming from another gate, there could very well be a tight connection, so again, walking briskly with their head down. 

Although, I have been hit on by a crew member walking through the terminal.  Picture it, my homecoming dance my senior year: I invited Steve to be my date, and even though he was in training he still flew up for the weekend.  I was in a red silk Ann Taylor dress (which I still have hanging in my closet) and I was walking towards Steve's arrival gate (this was before 9-11, so I was able to get past security). I am assuming it isn't often that you see formal attire walking down the terminal, so apparently I caught this guy's eye - I think he was a FA.  As we passed one another his comment was something to the effect of "you were waiting for my flight, right?"  It was very sweet and cute.  So, I suppose being picked up in the terminals can happen.

- in a restaurant...doubtful you will find a pilot in an airport restaurant.  Food court, yes, but not restaurant.  I suppose that would be an okay time to pick up a chick...while eating your chinese cuisine express.

- at the gate...usually pilots walk up to a gate, and then down the jet bridge.  I suppose if they are waiting at the gate for the inbound aircraft, they would be sitting in a seat and that could be an okay place to pick up a chick...but, their head is probably buried in a smart phone looking at the pilot web boards. 


Picking up airline pilots: If your intention is to pick up an airline pilot, here is my suggestion for you: find the crew hotel in your city.  Hit up the free happy-hour...pilots will be sure to be there!  If there is no free happy hour, hang at the bar anytime from 7p on, and chances are there may be a pilot in your presence, especially if there is no cheaper restaurant within walking distance.  Key markings of a pilot out of uniform: jeans and tennis shoes, no facial hair (well, maybe a mustache) and clean-shaven.  And if you see two guys fitting this description, you found a FO and CA.  The FO is younger, and the CA is older.  If you want more money, move in on the older guy.  If you want more oomph in bed, go for the FO.  Chances are they won't be drinking any more than 2 beers, unless they are on a nice long layover.  So, move quick!  Because once the drinks are gone, they will be headed upstairs to sleep...you know, since they have been up since 4am.


Dating a pilot:
benefits of dating a pilot
who wants to date an airline pilot
I only date pilots

**

Let me answer these one at a time:
Benefits of dating a pilot? Travel.  Yes, non-reving sucks, but we still go to really kick ass places.  And fast forward to when you have kids, and your kids have multiple passport stamps before the age of 3 - yes, CC has five country "stamps" in her passport.

Absence is also a benefit.  That sounds weird, but it is true.  You miss him when he is gone and love when he is home.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Who wants to date an airline pilot? Mmmmm, how shall I start this answer...
I didn't choose him because he is a pilot...I chose him because he is secure, funny, smart, dedicated, prudent, focused, has the most perfect hands, has fantastic biceps...I could go on.  It isn't that I wanted to date an airline pilot.  Rather, I wanted to date a man with these qualities (well, the hands and biceps weren't requirements, just nice additions!), and he happened to be a pilot.

I only date pilots: well, good for you!  I would probably venture out more, if I were you.  Life is too short to be stuck to one occupation.



Daddy and underwear:
Daddy underwear
Daddy in underwear
underwear Daddy
Costco white briefs
how to know if you need new underwear

Enough with people googling daddy and underwear and getting linked to my blog!  Ok, so I once blogged about people always shopping for new underwear when they went on trips, but enough already!  You are a gross ass pervert who needs more to your life than googling about a daddy wearing underwear. 

How to know if you need new underwear: really?  You actually need to google this question?  Son, let me tell you something, if you actually need to google this question then I would suggest you make your way to the store and buy yourself some new underwear. 



Pilots and Cheating:
cheating pilots
do all pilots cheat
i had sex with a married pilot in my hotel
what to do when your pilots husband cheats with flight attendant

Do all pilots cheat?  No.  Steve is proof that not all pilots cheat. 

I had sex with a married pilot in my hotel.  Good for you.  Now that you mention it, I can actually say the same: "I had sex with a married pilot in my hotel"  Good thing he is married to me! 

What to do when your pilot husband cheats with a flight attendant?  Find out why he cheated.  Can you truly and honestly say that you marriage was 100% perfect?  Find out what your issues are, and talk about them.  In my opinion, I believe that cheating happens because someone is looking for something elsewhere because they are not getting what they need.  I believe that cheating does not mean an end to a marriage - rather, a hurdle.  Start talking to get through this. 


Marriage and Pilots:
how many pilots are married
I hate being married to a pilot
being married to a pilot sucks
being a pilot killed my marriage
being married to a pilot, is it that bad?
shit that pilot wives don't say
is it advisable to marry a pilot
pilots having several wives
sex life with your pilot husband

See, lots of marriage related keywords find my blog.  And see...a lot of them are negative.  I am sure if you are happily married to a pilot, you probably don't go around googling "I love my pilot husband"  So, if you are stressed out/pissed off/frustrated, you look on the internet...and find me.

Let me state a couple things, based on the keywords mentioned above, that I believe are truth:
- an occupation does not kill a marriage.  If you do not have what it takes to be in a successful marriage then it will fail, regardless of occupation.  I believe you need trust, communication, dedication and faith.  Notice how there is no mention of "he must not be a pilot".  There are plenty of successful marriages with pilots, which is proof that it can be done. 

Being married to a pilot if not a bad thing, nor something that I should suggest women stay away from.  Rather, and with all marriages, I suggest that you start with a rock solid foundation to your relationship and everything builds from that.  You can have a rock solid foundation with a pilot!  And if you do, you will be able to work through all the crappy pilot wive stuff. 

As for pilot having several wives - yeah, several EX wives.  In all the pilots that I know, or know of, the only time there are several wives is when the pilot is divorced multiple times.  I have never heard of a pilot having two wives and two families in two different cities. 

As for sex life with your pilot husband: I won't get into too much detail on this, since Steve would probably kick my ass. But, I will say that when your lover travels all the time, you sure as hell like when he gets home! That anticipation can really work for you.  When women at booze book club shutter at the mention of sex with their husbands, I am one of the few that is still hot and heavy for her man...and I totally think his absence plays a big part in that. 



Specifics about pilots:
pilots are assholes
I hate being a pilot
Being a pilot sucks
cheap pilot
 airline pilots don't know shit
why are airline pilots assholes?
how do pilots go pee
do pilots work on Christmas
key things to a good landing
why do pilots love themselves
why do pilots wear short sleeve shirts with a tie


Pilots are assholes/Why are airline pilots assholes?:  I am not sure if a bitter passenger or a bitter ex-girlfriend/ex-wife googled this.  If you are a bitter passenger, I am sure that all members of that airline are assholes.  You had a bad experience on a flight, and for that I am sorry.  But please, don't go around hating everyone and calling everyone assholes. 

Has my husband had to be an asshole to someone before, while in uniform?  Yeah, probably.  Take the time he was at a gate area, not the actual gate counter rather a paperwork hub area, and a drunk, very drunk, passenger latched onto Steve about how he had to make *that* flight...that flight right out that window...that plane where the jet bridge was even pulled away.  The guy kept saying things like "hey man, can't you do anything to get me on that flight?"  Steve had to be very firm with this passenger to get the point across that he missed his flight.  Sometimes you need to do what it takes to make a point, especially when the passenger is under the influence...and some people may take that the wrong way. 

And if you are a bitter ex of a pilot, well I have nothing really to comment on. I am sorry that your relationship is no longer.  I wish you the best. 


Cheap pilot:  Truth.  They are cheap, most times.  But, it goes with the territory.  Most times they are cheap because they are too worried about being furloughed that they don't want to spend any excess money.  Or, maybe they just want to live below their means, in case another September 11th happens again and they get downgraded again.  Don't worry though, when they want to spend money, they sure do! They just spend it on what is important to them.

Airline pilots don't know shit:  So, you are telling me you know how to operate a 100 ton machine, that flies through the air at 500 mph, and carries hundreds of souls on board?  That, in and of itself, slashes your comment.  Pilots do, in fact, actually know a lot of "shit" to get your ass from point A to point B safely.  Next...

How to pilots go pee:  I love this one.  If they are male, they stand in front of the toilet, unbuckle their belt, unbutton and zip their zipper down,  pull their underwear down, and go at it...  And if a pilot if female, she will do the same steps, with the addition of sitting down on the toilet.

If you are more interested in how pilots go pee while en-route?  Well, I believe they wait until both pilots have to go, or when the timing is right like right before they start to descend , and they will start their process.  I believe a FA is involved somehow.  I am sure all airlines are different in their process.  I have never asked Steve this question, so I can't answer it.

Do pilot work on Christmas?  I absolutely HATE when Steve answers my question with a question, but I feel the need to do so in this case...are their flights that run on Christmas?  I think that answers your question.

Why do pilots love themselves?  I have to chuckle at this one.  Here is my take on this question: don't think that confidence equals self-centerdness.  You WANT your pilot to be confident.  I believe the last personality trait you want for your pilot is  low self-esteem.  You want your pilot to have an ego. 


Why do pilots wear short sleeve shirts with a tie: because cockpits are dirty places, and if a pilot wears a long-sleeved shirt it will get all stained from the arm rests...and his wife bitched too much about trying to remove plane dirt from his shirts that he finally gave in and got short-sleeved shirts.




Folks, there you have it...a little comic relief for a Monday night.

As bad as it gets

I was asleep, and  I knew I was.  But, I was in that weird dreamy state where you are half with-it, and half still-in-la-la-land.

I heard footsteps downstairs in the kitchen.  Steve is home, he will protect me. I could feel his presence next to me, snuggled up close.

The footsteps went into our foyer.  I could track the movement pretty easily since we have hardwood floors, and sound travels pretty good in our house. 

Then, the footsteps started to come up the stairs.  Steve!  There is someone coming up the stairs!

And then I woke up - startled...looking right into Ben's face, sleeping soundly as can be. Those footsteps I was hearing were Steve's. 

You see, on early shows, Steve will pop into the kids room to say goodbye, and if they are willing enough, he will take them into our room to climb into bed with me.  And his last step in his getting-ready-to-leave routine, is to come into the bedroom, when I am still sleeping, to say goodbye to me.

Not only had I slept through both his phone alarm and his alarm-clock alarm, I also slept through his shower and getting ready.  I had NO clue that he was about to leave.  He bent over, lanyard and badge dangling over me, and kissed me goodbye and told me he loved me.  I always kiss him back, and make sure he is out of harms way before I open my mouth to say I love you and goodbye.  Off he went to fly the friendly skies, and I drifted back into la-la-land, with Ben by my side. 


Thus started the trip which was really about as bad as they get...


Where shall I start?  How about the lovely time change which fucks with my little ones, especially my spirited little one?  Of course, I was the one to face the brunt of it.  They will be all nicely adjusted come day 4. 

Or, the bed cleaning at midnight, after a young 3-year-old peed all over herself...

Or, the spilled cup that was filled with water and green food coloring -  which happened not 2 minutes after CC spilled a flower vase all over the kitchen table.

My little Einstein makes creations all the time, and I love encouraging his creativity.  What I don't love is a mess!
 This evening: Lizard Juice

Or the sick day that Ben requested due to belly issues.  I was actually saying prayers that Ben wouldn't get sick...because if he did I would have to handle it on my own, and I didn't know if I was emotionally able to do that.  Yes, the days were that bad.  And yes, this was the scene in our car as we were driving back from picking CC up from school. 

Please don't puke!  Please don't puke!

And the biggest issue of this trip that I was dealing with? Mood swings.  My patience level was that of a 2-year-old.  I am sure Steve is happy that this means no kiddos are on the way, but fuck the PMS!  It really does turn you into a beast!

Most trips are average...neither here nor there.  Things are normal and stuff just goes along.  Life just ticks away and all is good.  You have been practicing this for years and years, if not decades, and you got it down.  Easy peasy - lemon squeezy.

Then there are trips where you feel like a superstar.  The kids are perfectly behaved all the time.  The house is perfectly clean all the time. Everyone has the perfect attitude all the time.  The weather is just perfect.  The birds sing all the time, and a little uniform flies over the house everyday and trails a rainbow.  On that last night, you greet a smiling, well-rested pilot at the door when he gets home from work.  You are sure to have a perfect hot meal and a stiff drink ready, and of course the night is ended with "goodies."  You got this pilot wife thing down!  You ARE rockstar and can do it all!

And then you have trips like this one...where shit happens multiple times, every.single.day!  His coming home can't come soon enough.  At least once a day, you want to pop open a beer can, slide down that emergency exit while shouting "fuck it all."  You serve dinner in front of the tv, because that will keep the kids calm and happy...and you desperately need that calm and happy so that you don't lose it:

You have to take 10 deep breaths...often...to keep yourself in the green level.  You keep wine or beer, whatever your taste, close at hand to keep your calm. 

I officially love all dry, full-bodied, red wines from South America!

I have to say, trips likes this don't happen all that often, but when they do, they suck.  Every time Steve calls me, it is "your daughter is a mess" or "I am so stressed."  I am sure he hates getting calls like this, but this is the fact of life...and if I am miserable, I don't mind shedding some of that onto his relaxed situation.  These are the times when the solo-parenting thing just isn't cutting it, and you need to get that tag-team effort...even if it is over the phone.

Honestly to goodness, after an incredibly bad gymnastics class for CC, I called into Steve to talk to her.  I knew he was having dinner/drinks with his CA, in Tampa, at some Irish bar...probably having a fun time.  Sorry to rain on your parade, but your daughter was just an asshole in gymnastics.  I am desperate.  You need to talk to her.

Overall, the trip rounded out okay.  Since I had to take a sick day mid-week, I got a "reset" in a way.  I got a ton of shit done around the house, while Ben watched Top Gun and did this and that...

future fighter pilot in the making

And when Steve got home on day 4 with a red-eye, you bet I was happy to see him!  Well, aside from him fucking up our morning routine. No, don't have CC go pee upstairs...she uses the bathroom downstairs. Don't disturb the monster.  And you bet, I was sure to park my ass on the recliner that evening...sipping some wine...looking forward to the handful of days where I wouldn't have to do this parenting thing alone...

Wake up! Later never comes.

On most Friday mornings, I can be found at the Children's Hospital.  During these couple hours, I am up on the patient floors doing patient sitting.  I pop into patient rooms, introduce myself to Mom and Dad, and let them know I am there to watch their "little one" if they need to: get out of the room...take a break...get breakfast...escape for a couple hours.

Well, this last Friday I made a b-line to the floor and room where I was directed that a little girl (2-years-old) was alone since Mom and Dad were working.  I walked into her room, and spent the next 3 hours there.

And what did we do when I was with her?  I supervised her eating breakfast.  We played Candyland.  We read books.  We colored.  We went on an "adventure" in a wagon where we went to the volunteer office to grab some crayons, coloring book, and play-doh.  And the remainder of my time with her was spent playing with play-doh and some more reading.

During these couple hours, it dawned on me...when was the last time I REALLY played with my kids?! 

It hit my like a ton of bricks.  I was ashamed.

**

And here is where the pilot wife comes into play.  I work 8:30a to 3:30p Monday - Thursday.  During this time I am busy with numbers and money and stress (lately). 

After I get home from work, and after picking the kids up from school, I am busy getting dinner ready, going over homework or projects, cleaning up the house, getting prepared for the next day...then bath time and bedtime for the kids. 

Wash. Rinse. Repeat.  Day after day this is our routine.

And when Steve is home, you would think that I had more time on my hands.  But, that is very much not the case.  I am busy with laundry, groceries, chores, ect.  I save up all the heavy chores and errands for when Steve is home. 

During the week I do what I *have* to do to get through the day, and put everything off until he gets home.  And then when Steve is home, I am busy finishing the things I was neglecting, as well as getting everything prepared for his next departure with errands and chores.  And let's not forget fitting in "me time" stuff so that I don't lose my mind, like coffee with friends or volunteering.

Ever since the kids were born, I was SO concerned with Daddy spending QT with the kids since he is gone so much.  And if I had only looked in the mirror sooner, I would have noticed that I needed to spend QT with them too!

On a day-in, day-out basis when I am solo with the kids, I am constantly here&there doing this&that around the house.  So, if Ben or CC asks me to play my typical responses are:
- Mommy is busy making dinner right now...after dinner.
- Mommy is really tired right now...just give me a minute to rest.
- Mommy is in the middle of cleaning up right now...after I am done.
- Mommy is doing laundry right now...after I hang up the clothes.

And "later" never comes.  Shame on me.  I never saw it so clearly until I spent those couple hours with that little girl last Friday.  My experience with this little girl had an incredible impact on me.

After I got back, you bet I was sure to play dollhouse with CC.  The laundry can wait.  The cleaning can wait.  My kids deserve me. 

**

I had this incredible wake up call: what type of mother was I?  What type of mother were my kids going to remember me as being? What will my tombstone read: always had a clean house? or fantastic mother? 

I know us pilot wives have a lot on our plates.  I know it is difficult to keep all of our shit together all the time.  I know it is impossible to be the perfect wife and perfect mother and perfect employee and perfect friend.  Since I was hit with a ton of bricks about this, I want to gently remind you that our kids deserve us.  Our kids deserve our attention.  Our kids deserve our best.  Let the laundry pile up a bit, if that means you can play ponies with your daughter. Serve basic dinners, of course with good nutrition :), so that you can have more time with your kids after school. Be there for your kids.  Maybe this means that after they go to bed you have an extra 45 minutes of housework to do, instead of just crashing on your ass with exhaustion, but it is worth it!  Your children will always remember you as the mother who was always there for them. 

Where do I start?

I don't often do this, but I am posting a link to my other blog "Pilot Wife Healthy Minute Meals"  I am growing more and more passionate about this topic, and I wanted to share.



This post, Where Do I Start, reviews my tips on how to get your family on the track of eating healthy.

Where do I start?

"You have always eaten healthy, haven't you?" said a friend of mine.

"Oh, hell no" I said. "I had to work up to where we are now." And that is the truth of it. I used to not care about what I/we ate. I clearly recall Ben's bedtime routine when he was a toddler. He would get his bath, pjs on, and then he would watch one episode of Elmo's World. His snack? Tortilla chips. They tasted good, and he asked for them. What was the harm?...they are just chips. Now, I cringe when I think about that...all that salt and non-nutritious food right before bedtime. What sort of habit was I setting for this child?

I shared this exact story with my friend, to reinforce that I had to work my way out of bad eating habits. I saw a good number of posts on facebook and twitter at the beginning of the new year, and how it is a great time to start eating healthy. So, I want to give you some tips on how you can do it to, based on how I do it. You can do it! You and your family deserve the best! If you are the shopper and the preparer of food, the weight is on your shoulders.

My first tip: make the transition gradual! Let's get back to the tortilla chips. How did I work my way out of it? I told Ben that before he could get his tortilla chips, he had to eat a piece of fruit of his choosing. At first, he would eat the fruit then quickly ask for the chips. Eventually, we got to the point of him asking for just fruit. It took a good couple of months, but we got there.

Now? Ben rarely asks for tortilla chips. What did he have for his snack last night? Strawberries. I still bring chips into the house from time to time, but he doesn't ask for them much at all. I know that Ben's taste leans towards salt, like me. When he wants a snack and says no after no when I offer him fruit after fruit, I will let him snack on nuts. This change now gives him nutrients, and he gets his salt craving fixed.

In conjunction with making a gradual transition at snack time, it is also important that you don't make these huge sweeping changes all at once. Kids like routine. Kids are familiar with the foods that you have been consistently serving to this point. If you make these huge changes and your dinners go from hamburger helper to quinoa patties with a side of kale. Guess what? They won't eat it. Why? They don't know it. It isn't routine.

So, make small changes here and there, and after time you will make those big changes and the kids won't even noticed. Gradually add new nutritious foods to your menu. If you used to serve just hamburger helpers, add corn. Then add a salad. Once they are familiar with the corn and the salad, then you can start adding new things like the quinoa patties. See what I am trying to get at here?


My second tip: be patient. Just like when you start working out, you won't see changes overnight. Don't expect the same with your diet. It may take months and months for you to make all these changes, and that is okay. Again, be patient and your diet will eventually get to where you want it to be.

And be patient with your child not wanting to try new things. It is normal. But, be persistent. CC will eat everything and anything so it has never been a struggle with her. Ben, on the other hand, needs that 20 times of exposure before he will try something. Ben still won't eat blackberries, but I will keep exposing him to them. But, over the years he has grown to like things that he once never considered touching. Just be patient, and eventually it will come.

My third tip: learn about food, for both your benefit and your child's benefit. If you know what you are eating, and what it does for your body, I absolutely believe that you will start to focus on foods that actually nourish your body.

When you look at that bunch of bananas on the counter and think "those things are loaded with potassium, which helps maintain normal blood pressure" you may go for those over the bag of nacho cheese chips, when all you can say about the nutritional value is "well, it tastes good, and then it goes straight to my ass."

Since I am not a nutritionist, I don't talk too much about food with my peers. First, there is a time and a place for everything, and when we are all talking about this and that, getting on a soap box isn't something that would be socially appreciated. Not to mention, I am no food expert (yet) so I don't want to be incorrect in speaking. Now researching and writing on this blog is a different story. My point in all this, I HATE when people say "I love food too much to care." All the while, in the five years that I have known this person they have gained 30 pounds. Their typical going out meals is wings and beer. Now, don't get me wrong, I totally do wings and beer...but, from time to time. Physically, it is obvious that they love food - too much! I am convinced that the people I am referring to don't know anything about foods and what it does for them...they just want it to taste good. And tasting good is a combination of fat, sugar, and salt.

If you actually know what fat, sugar and salt does to you body, compared to a salad with fresh greens and vegetables, then your choices when dining out may be different. Sure, fat, sugar and salt taste wonderful, but what tastes better in the long run? 30 pounds overweight, joint pain, tiredness, pre-diabetic? Or, trim, slender, healthy, full of energy? If you learn about food and what it does for your body, your mindset will change towards eating nutritious foods.

To further this point, it is your role as a parent to teach your child about healthy food. If you talk to them about food and what are good food choice, they will listen to you. If your child is eating kiwi fruit, say something like "Son, that is great that you are eating kiwi because it is full of Vitamin C, which fight off all the 'bad guys' that are trying to get into your body."

Vitamin C neutralizes free radicals, which causes damage to your cells. That damage leads to bad stuff like cancer. We don't want that. My aunt was just diagnosed with breast cancer, and you bet I have taught my 5-year-old about it, at a level he understands. CC, at age 3, is still too young to get it. I use terms like "bad guys" and "good guys." The conversation with him went something like "the bad guys are fighting a war with the good guys, and right now the bad guys are winning." He responded with "well, what weapons are the good guys and bad guys using?" I am sure his head had thoughts of this war going on inside her body with swords. And I think that is okay at this age. I have the sense that he understands the basic concept, and to me that is a good thing. I don't want to shelter him at this age, I want to educate him and make him aware. And you bet when we talk about cancer, I also mention that eating the right foods "make the good guys are strong so they can keep the bad guys away."


My fourth tip: it isn't a "diet". I hate that word, when used in that way! To me, "diet" is what you eat, not what you *have* to eat so that you can lose weight. And when anyone calls healthy foods "diet" food I just cringe. Lima beans aren't diet foods, it is a food you should eat all the time because they are loaded with "good for you" stuff...fiber and iron just to name a couple. Don't ever think of healthy food as "diet" food. I think that if you associate these words, you are just setting yourself up for that "can't have it" mentality. And that mentality just makes you want it that much more.


My last tip: stick with it. The longer you stay with your healthy diet, the better you will feel and the better you will look. Everyone wants to feel good. Don't feel guilty about eating pizza for dinner every once in a while. I am all about balance. Just make sure you don't eat it every night. And the day after you eat it, just get back on track. And the longer you stay with it, the easier it all will be.

You are a pilot, why don't you know everything about everything?

I met Steve when I was a junior in college.  When we met he was flying a Saab for a private company.  Shortly after we met, he was hired by a regional airline.  There is something about meeting a pilot...for some reason there is this instant trust that is formed (public trust).  Not to mention, the cool and macho factor.  Flight is  pretty amazing, and the man behind the yolk yoke has to be pretty cool.  Of course, they need to have their head on straight in order to do what they do.  This man *must* be an all around great guy....who knows everything about everything aviation related.

Ok, where am I going with this?  Well, recent aviation news was that a plane slid off a taxiway due to icy conditions (I believe).  As Steve was reading the article on the computer, I asked him "Steve, what would you do if that happened to you?" 

I don't know.

What do you mean, you don't know?  Would you be scared or nervous?

Joanna, I have never been in that situation.  I don't know how I would feel.

Typical. 

Never with a straight answer.  He barely thought of a feeling before he spewed such a dull answer. 

He is a pilot, for goodness sake...shouldn't he know everything about everything flight/aviation related?  Shouldn't he have an answer for each and every single question I ask?

**

Rewind to the first time Steve met my parents.  Of course, they knew his was a pilot.  I am assuming there was that instant trust/cool factor from the beginning, which is a definite plus when introducing him to my parents for the first time.  We drove down to their house, which is about a 3 hour drive.  I am sure my mom made dinner, and after dinner we had drinks (of course), and cigarettes (which is a thing of the past, since I am past that phase in my life...and also my uncle died of pancreatic cancer since he was a smoker, so that is always a lingering cloud in our conscious). 

My dad, Steve and I were standing on their back patio having a cigarette.  It was the fall, so the air was cool and crisp.  I really liked this guy, and so far so good with the evening.  I could tell my parents liked him.  My mom never pictured me with a blond, but the pilot factor must have won her over.  I don't know why, but I recall this conversation clear as day. 

"So, tell me, Steve" my father begin, in his thick Polish accent which was a bit intimidating to Steve, "this one flight, we were nearly touching down on the landing.  I could see the blades of grass, we were that close.  And all the sudden, the engines started to roar and up we went.  You know, I am not usually a nervous flier, but I tell you what...I grabbed the arm rests!  What was that?"

"Oh, a missed approach" Steve replied...

And so began the vast number of times where Steve hedges answers...never a straight answer...

So, why would this happen when we were so close?

Maybe there was a plane on the runway?  Maybe they were too fast?  I can't tell you for sure since I wasn't there...

**

My name is Joanna.  My husband is a pilot, and I am a nervous flier. 

You think I am funny, right?  Wrong.  Dead wrong.  It is bad enough that I take Ativan.  Thank the good Lord for Ativan!   Because before the Ativan, each and every flight was hell.  No joke.  I would jump at each and every single sound I heard.  I clearly recall one flight were I was convinced that we were taking off with only one engine.  I didn't hear them start up the second engine.  I was convinced!   And God help me if I was actually sitting next to Steve on a flight where I am anxious.  I would actually piss him off because I was all on edge and grabbing his hand every 10 seconds.  He didn't understand that if he wasn't nervous, than why should I be?  He doesn't get anxiety.  Yes, I was that bad.  Now with Avitan, I am F-I-N-E fine...thank goodness!

You know how it started?  It all started with whispers of things.  Things like when his good buddy was describing how his engine failed at cruising altitude.  His fuel wasn't contaminated, but that was the first time I heard of that term...one more thing to add to my pile of "shit I know behind the scenes, but I am not a pilot so I don't know that I am still safe."

And it continues with other stories about stick shakers going off over the Rockies.  Apparently this shook up his buddy so much that he actually thought about getting away from flying.  After I was educated on a stall, and how planes really *can* drop out of the sky, that just added more shit to my pile of behind the scenes pilot stuff.  See how this all built up?

But, the one exact event that made me most fearful was en route from SAT, I think, to MDW.  I had joined Steve on an overnight. We were in a low point in our marriage, and I thought a little time together would do us good.  Since he was flying regional (50 seats) I knew I wouldn't be catching a ride on his flight since the boarding totals were not favorable for non-reving.  So, I bought a cheap ticket on another airline.  Well, on the decent into MDW, something happened...the blue light was on - sterile - below 10,000 feet.  I noticed that a man took his young child to the bathroom.  How dare you do that!  We are below 10,000 feet! Don't you know anything?!  As the two of them were walking back to their seat, which happened to be right in front of me, the plane dropped.  I mean DROPPED!  The man grabbed his son, and shuffled back into their seats.  The plane dropped so much that I actually braced myself, as did most everyone else on the plane.  Instantly, the engines started to roar, and we regained the altitude that we just lost, or so it seemed.  The passengers on the plane turned from rather quiet into quietly chatting about what just happened.  My heart was pumping hard for a good couple minutes after that. 

Keep in mind folks, this one event was what, I believe, made me a certified anxious flier.  After I finally got back to our house and reconnect with Steve, I told him what happened. 

...he had no answer for me.  Joanna, I don't know what it could have been.  He didn't give me ANY indication what what it could have been.

It wasn't until we were hanging with another pilot friend a couple days later that told me what happened.  Probably wind sheer.

Steve?  Why the hell didn't you tell me that in the first place?!  I was pissed. Here I thought this plane was going to plummet to the earth (ok, maybe that is a bit of an exaggeration) and he had no explanation.  Thanks honey...good for nothing.  I would have been fine with the answer of "oh, the pilots were probably just trying to dodge a flock of birds."  Any sort of answer, even outrageous ones, would have satisfied me. 

**

Don't pilots know everything about everything aviation related?  Shouldn't Steve have the answer for everything?  Of course I think so!

And apparently all people in the public believes so too.  It could be anything from: asking a pilot where the baggage claim is.  Follow the signs...see, those words "baggage claim"  Yeah, follow that. To the random pax that asked Steve for his take on the movie Flight.  Do you really want to know how the real story of that flight ended...right before you take to the friendly skies? 

As I have been writing this post, I told Steve I was writing about him and what the subject matter was.  He added some insight that I should pass along...sometimes, he just doesn't want to talk about it.  And I get that, especially when it comes to me.

Let's go back to the stick shaker situation.  Not only did he have to explain what a stick shaker was, he also had to explain what a stall is.  I thought it was an engine stall...you know, like when when a car stalls because the engine just stopped.  And then he had to explain lift...and Bernoulli's principle.  And then, he had to talk about how you recover from a stall.  And then he had to explain what being above max altitude was....

See?  By bringing up "stick shaker" to me, it took about 20 minutes to explain.  20 minutes of Steve's life that he won't get back.  Maybe that is why he rarely talks about work with me...  So, I do see why he may remain brief with his answers and dialogue with us non-aviation folk.  But, when I ask a professional a question, I expect an answer...damn it! 

Now, get him with a group of pilots and boy does he talk!  Remember my post: Pilot Dork  All about Steve and aviation discussions with fellow pilots.  Yawn, yawn, yawn for me...this is where he CAN showcase that he knows everything about everything aviation related. I know it is in him!  Of course it is in him...it is in his blood.

Pilot wives making things user friendly

Although I work on a computer everyday, I do not know much of the inner workings of the machine.  I know all the user friendly tasks, but all the programming stuff boggles my mind and actually intimidates me.  At my work, we have a computer guy for that.  He is amazing at what he does.  I clearly recall a conversation one day where he was telling me that in order for all the "front stuff" to be so user friendly, it makes the inside programming that much more difficult.

Folks, I hereby declare that pilot wives do all the programming behind the scenes so that everything our pilots experience is user friendly.  These thoughts kept playing through my mind during our last vacation - 5 magical nights on the the Disney Wonder.

 

Like most pilot families do, I am assuming, most vacations are planned pretty much right before the actual trip takes place.  Last October, Steve bid for a week in February for vacation.  We figured we would wait until his February schedule came out and either book a Disney Cruise or a few days at the Disney Park.  Low and behold, in late January we booked a 5 night cruise on the Disney Wonder.  Gotta love the "kids sail free" promotion they run.

For reference sake, the 3 days leading up to our vacation Steve was on a trip.  He flew out Tuesday morning, and come home at 9:30p on Thursday night.  We were taking a 6am flight Friday morning.  What did this leave me?  Lots of shit to do.  I had to do all the difficult programming behind the scenes so that the vacation was as user friendly as possible.  This is now the second time a 3 or 4-day as butt up to a vacation...and it sucks!  It makes things much more difficult for me.  But, it is what it is, and I deal. 

Let's start with this difficult programming task: waxing.  Now, I know men read this blog but don't be embarrassed about what is to come.  It takes a lot for a woman to be all fabulous like she is, and it start with a bikini wax.  And for any woman that is reading this and has never gotten one...make an appointment now.  They are that wonderful!

**
On a quick tangent: when Steve flew with his regional airline, their one FA would pal around the pilots the entire trip.  As opposed to now, when Steve barely knows the names of his FAs since each leg brings on a new set.  One day he was chatting things up with the FA and apparently she used to be an esthetician.  She was quick to say "oh, but I am sure you don't know what that is" and Steve response was "oh, I know...bikini waxes."  I wonder what her impression of me was? 
**

I had a wax scheduled Monday night.  Steve was home, so he would be able to watch the kids.  Great!  I had all this planned out, because that is what us pilot wives have to do when we have little ones....plan everything out.

About 12:30 that Monday afternoon I got a call.  The esthetician got in a car accident, she was ok, and my appointment that evening was cancelled.  Well fuck! They tried to get me in the next day, but the kids had gymnastics and since Steve had left for a trip it was all me.  There were no openings on Wednesday or Thursday that worked for me, and there as no way in hell I was going to bring the kids into that room while I lay on a table as a woman rips strip after strip.  Mommy, what are they doing to you?

Believe me, I exhausted all options (on the cruise? a spa near our hotel?) before I made the decision  of...at home waxing.

I have been getting waxed for 10+ years, so I am familiar with the process and figured I would give it a try.  Sigh.  As I lay on the bathroom floor, working my magic as best as I could, I kept thinking "if only Steve were home, I wouldn't have to do this myself!"  I had succumbed to laying on the fucking bathroom floor, at least on a nice memory foam mat, ripping and ripping.

That is the life of a pilot wife for you: you have the kids to watch and you have to do it all yourself.  Yes, we can roll with the punches, but sometimes we are scheduled to the second that when something falls out of line it just fucks everything up. 

**

Not only did I have to wax myself, I also had to do all the shopping for the trip with the kids.  That might not sound too bad to some, but when you are with the kids 24-7 day after day, it just wears on you and all you want is that 1 hour of quiet time at Target.  In additional to normal last-minute must need for vacation items, I was on the hunt for a swimsuit.  After a couple bad online orders, I was crossing my fingers that I would be able to get one at Target.

As we entered Target I put the kids in the cart, grabbed a number of suits and headed into the family fitting rooms.  After a couple comments like "ew, I see your underwear" from my peanut gallery, I finally settled on one.  Thankfully, because I really didn't have a plan B for that situation.  I then loaded up the cart with all things fun and essential for vacation.  Sunscreen?  Check!  Steve's hair product? Check!  Fun things to keep the kids engaged on the plane? Check!  Flip flops? Check! 

The shopping trip was well over an hour.  If I were solo, it would have taken 1/2 hour.  Get why I like shopping by myself?  The kids were running up and down the aisles, wanting this or that.  It was exhausting.  Again...I was doing all the programming, so that things would be user friendly for the trip.

**

I made sure to keep way on top of the laundry, because rushing around doing that last minute is just the pits.  I also had to pack the kids, myself, and Steve.  Remember, he was arriving after 9p from a 3-day, and we were up at 2:45a the next morning for that 6am flight, so I was trying to keep things user friendly for him.  I tried, and mostly succeeded, on getting the house and us prepared as much as possible so that when Steve got in he would have little to do. 

He got in, ate dinner, drank a beer, went upstairs to review the clothes I pulled out for him, vetoed a couple items, and then we started to wrap things up.  We finally laid our heads down around midnight.  I was exhausted.  Up again in less than 3 hours...

**

We awoke to a rather decent snow storm that morning.  Our normal 35 minute drive to the airport turned into a 70 minute drive.  This meant that Steve would drop me and the kids off at the terminal to check our bags, while he went to the crew lot to park the car.

There I was, at the curb with 2 young children and 3 bags to check.  Oh, and the kids had their backpacks and I had my carry-on.  I can handle this.  We waited our turn in line and then it was time to check our bags.  The kids behaved very well.  I am rockstar mom.  We went through security, and the kids did great!  I am rockstar mom.  As we were getting our jackets back on, Steve flashed his badge, got through security, and met us on the other side.  The kids were still doing great!

Fast forward past a breakfast of muffins and coffee for a bargain price of $22, we finally boarded the plane.  Steve was up front somewhere, and I was in a row with the kiddos.  They were being just great.  As a matter of fact, the lady in front of me later compliments me on the kids and their good behavior.  I am rockstar mom.  There is no question that the kids and I have figured out our "groove" with one another.  I am with them each and every single day.  I know them well, and they know me well.  I often refer to the three of us as a "trio."  And I think that since it was pretty much me and the kids checking in, going through security, and seating together, it worked.  We were our trio...our normal threesome...and it works.

And, there is no question that I do most of the programming when it comes to the parenting.  I am the one that reads parenting books and researches things.  I am the one to raise them day in and day out.  I am their constant.  And because of this I know them best.   I am not complaining.  I am not trying to belittle Steve (because he really is a wonderful Dad, and is a very hands on Dad when he is home).  I am just pointing out the reality of our household.  I am the one to do all the back-work and consistent work, so that the kids behave the way I expect.  Steve follows suit.  It works.

**

By the time we finally connected into Miami, and settled into our hotel, we were exhausted.  We finished up the day with some hot tub time, some happy hour time, some movie time, and some ZZZZ.  When Steve was ready to crawl into bed with me, he, apparently, did a body slam onto our bed, as I was in la-la land, and I didn't even stir.  I was tired.  I was tired from all the preparation, which was about a week long, and all the travel...and our vacation hadn't even began yet!  At least things would be user friendly from that point on...

 

 

 

couple shots from the trip:

embarking on the ship, and already moody and tired

 

in Cozumel - the underwater explorer...awesome!

 

Castaway Cay - awesome!

Be sure to always have your camera, since you never know who you will meet

pre-dinner drinks and snacks

Pirate Night...and Ben sported his real eye patch!

 

 

 

and my favorite shot from the cruise! Blurry, but boy does it capture a moment...totally warms my heart!

You know you are married to a pilot when...

You know you are married to a pilot when:

- terms like FO, non-rev, pairing, ATC, and slam-clicker actually mean something to you, and are spoken often in your household.

- you took his car to get groceries, and curse when you open the trunk to load the groceries and realize you have to battle for precious trunk space next to his pilot hat and a flight bag. Remember, don't crush the hat!

- you have the internal thought of "what if I die in my sleep? When will someone find me?" (Although, I am sure that anyone that lives alone has this thought too.)


- you don't like to look outside the windows at night...because you would hate to see human eyes looking back at you. He isn't home to protect the house that night, so you just keep the blinds pulled.


- you have "crew scheduling" programmed into your cell phone, and you know what to do when that number calls.


- you know the difference between a 737, 777, A320 and an RJ. When people refer to RJs at "tiny planes" you want to slap them.


- his company's app is incredibly accessible on your cell phone, because you want quick access to track his flight.


- you understand military time.


-his sense of fashion was once horrible, and then you stepped in and shopped for him.  Now, he gets it.  Ok, maybe on layovers he wears basic running shoes and jeans and a basic top.  But, when he is home, he is looking good.


- you find earplugs in your dryer.  You find these buggers anywhere and everywhere around your house.  Oh, and you know how to properly put them in your ear (pinch and roll, pull ear up and insert)

earplugs in the dryer.  at least they are clean again

- your children look up at a plane flying high in the sky and yell "Hi Daddy!"


- you have times when you want to pick up the phone and call your husband, whether it be to vent, spread good news, or spread bad news. But, realize he is in the air and the call would go straight to voicemail. You get sad. These are the times when you wish your best friend was around more. So, you call your sister...


- you recognize when you need help, and you have no shame in asking for it.  This could be anything from a snow plow service in the winter, to a break away from life for a weekend.


- the world comes to a complete hault, all because a union email showed up in his inbox.


- vacation is a week away. You are planning on going...somewhere. You will make final decisions a couple days before you leave, and it will all depend on load factors

- you can only commit to events next month once his schedule comes out.  You often speak the line "I would love to come, but I will let you know on the 20th."


- you show up solo to parties/events often enough that people start to question if you are still married.


Me and the kids, without Steve, and the Polish Christmas program this past year. 
Thank goodness for Babcia and Dziadek (Grandma and Grandpa) and
 Ciocoa and Wujek (Aunt and Uncle) came with us...so we wouldn't be so alone.

- you keep energy drinks in the fridge to help your husband recoup from a red-eye.  You do this because you don't want to deal with his crabby ass for the rest of that day.  You will do whatever it takes to make that day bearable, so you don't have the desire to send him back where he came from.



-  you know what an epaulet is.  Better yet, you know how one fits onto a shirt. Best of all, you know the difference between three stripes and four stripes.


- you squeeze in a quickie before he leaves, because 4 days sees SO far away...and you want him to leave with happy thoughts of you. 


- you 'do it' with his hat on.  Admittedly, we have not done this.  But, the question has been asked of us.


- you plan sex, because it may be another 2 weeks before it happens again.  A woman knows her cycle, and needs to consider these things.


-  these rolls appear in the laundry, and you understand his "code."  Clean outbound rolls are opposite of dirty inbound rolls. 

-  your shave schedules are opposite.  When he is gone and has to shave everyday, you don't lift a razor.  When he is home and doesn't lift a razor, you make sure to shave everyday.


- you cringe when someone whines about "having to work the day after Thanksgiving" because he wasn't even home for Thanksgiving, and he won't be home for Christmas...or New Years Eve...You bite your tongue. 


-  you cringe when someone whines about having to deal with some house emergency when their spouse was out of town...because you deal with this on a monthly basis.  What's the big deal?  You bite your tongue.


- you cringe when you hear a pregnant someone talk about making sure their husband "has their phone on them at all time, or else" when their due date nears....because your pilot was in another country when you went into labor, and he still made it home.  If he is within a 200 mile radius of you at all times, he will make it.  Don't turn it into something bigger than it is.  You bite your tongue.


- you want to slap the person that says "oh, it must be nice to have 12 days off a month."  Maybe he was off 12 days last month, but he was gone 152 nights last year.  Now, tell me what you think about that.  You bite your tongue.


- you get "show time" and "go time"


- you leave directions for him in checklist form, because you know he will respond to it.


- you forget shit.  You forget lots of shit.  You forget things like uniform dress down day at school, and your first child's kindergarten orientation, because you just have too much shit on your plate. 


- you surprise yourself at how strong you are at times when it comes to being a single-parent.


 - there are times where you just want to throw in the towel, in terms of being a single-parent, and say "fuck it all!"  These are the times that you count down the seconds he walks in from that 4-day, so that you can finally have some sort of break.


-  you have your young children do chores.  3-year-olds are fully capable of bringing trash cans from the curb.  This is done to lighted our load when he is away. 


- the view outside your laundry room is this:

yet, you still have to wash shorts! 

- you have to yell at him to use his windshield wipers in the car.  What is it with pilots and not starting the wipers until you can't see anything?


- it is a rare occasion that you get ready at the same time in the morning for work. 


- after being married all these years, you still miss your husband.  You still think about him and get excited that he is coming home.  Absence makes the heart grow fonder.


- you tell people that your relationship works because he is gone so much.  That sounds odd, but it is true.


- you wish he were home every night.  But, he isn't...and your life is still perfect. 

Of course it is his fault

While pulling into the school parking lot the other morning, I saw the food truck at the curb.  Oh crap, I thought.  The truck makes it difficult to pull into a parking spot like normal.  So, I did my normal thing when the food truck is there, and pulled into the spot backwards.  And in hindsight, I believe a guardian angel was watching over us and made that timing so.

The kids spilled out of the car, and into the school we marched. 

I dropped CC off just fine, and then went to say good-bye to Ben in his room.  While I was in there, a fellow K parent said "hey, your passenger front tire is low."

Oh, really?! I whined.

Yeah.

Do you think I have to fill it now?

I wouldn't drive too far on it.


Crap.  Well, my drive to work is about 20 miles, so I figured I needed to make a bee-line to the gas station.  The last thing I want to do in the morning, in my already planned-to-a-second routine, is to stop at the freakin' gas station to get freakin' air in my tires.  You pilot wives know what I am talking about when it comes to routines.  We have our routines down perfectly when our pilots are away.  And any variation of that routine just throws the whole universe off. 

But, I wanted to heed the warning from the fellow parent.  Not to mention, I had thoughts of that guardian angel which motivated me.  You know, that truck didn't have to be there and I didn't have to park backwards...

Steve!  This is your fault! kept playing over and over in my mind, while I was driving to the gas station.  Was Steve even around?  No.  But, of course it was his fault.  Sort of reminds me of my post 'Don't be a whiny bitch'.  It was his fault because he is the man of the house, and should be the one doing all things car.  Yeah, yeah, I am fully capable of filling my tires with air, but just like I like when a man opens my car door, I want my man to answer my distress calls.

When I got to the station, I maneuvered to the air thing, popped in my quarters and started to do what I needed to do.  As I was adding the air, I kept thinking about how I was going to blog about this.  I do this often when I am in a midst of a pilot wife 'disaster' as it helps keep me sane in the situation.    As my internal dialogue was going, the word "isolation" kept popping into the dialogue.

In a busy station where there were people all around me, I couldn't help but feel isolated.  Steve wasn't around to help me.  Steve wasn't in the same state, not to mention the same time zone.  Steve is never around.  And when he is, he is so busy with this and that, that he doesn't even look at the tires.  I always have to do everything with the cars.  I hate this.  Why am I the one to have to fucking do this?  Why did I ever marry a man that is gone all the fucking time?  He is supposed to always be able to rescue me and answer my distress calls.  This is bullshit.  I am tired of having to fend for myself.  I married a man to help with all this.  Not be gone all the time.  I married a man to be a part of my life, not distant from it.  Whah, whah! 

The air stopped.  Really?!  What the fuck!  My 5 minutes expired and I still had one tire left.  Fuck!  Back into the car I went to gather change, and then into the building to exchange the dimes and nickles into quarters.  I was just pissed off and annoyed really good at this point.  And then, back to the car I went to finish the job.

...and then, I saw a familiar face...

It was one of Steve's friends from college.  And you know what, seeing him, somehow, put me back at ease.  We exchanged hugs and pleasantries and then he instantly offered to help me once he knew what I was up to.  A man answering my distress call!  That is all I needed!  I turned his polite offer down, because, really, I am fully capable of filling the tires with air. 

We chatted a bit, and all was good.  Do you know why he put me at ease?  Because he is Steve's friend. Not mine.  He is a college friend, as I mentioned, that I didn't know at all in college.  He is a part of Steve, and I am sure Steve is a part of him.  In a weird way, it was like I was connected to Steve...and didn't feel so isolated anymore.

I am sure that may sound weird to some people, that I found a connection to Steve through a friend, but it isn't unusual for me at all.  When I miss Steve, even if it is when I am missing him because I am pissed he isn't there to help me, I find myself trying to find some sort of connection to him.  It could be smelling his pillow, or his bath towel.  Or watching Family Guy at 11pm, because that is what is always on when he is home.  Or looking through old pictures on his facebook page.  Or looking up into the sky at contrails. 

So, if a guardian angel protected me from blowing a tire at 70mph on a highway, perhaps another one put a familiar face in front of me to give me strength, and not feel so isolated anymore.