Call me hypersensitive to scents and sounds. I hate the sound of people chewing loudly. I can't stand AM radio. It's Fall, so that means Steve is constantly listening to AM sports talk. This also means that Steve constantly leaves this on in the car. I curse every time I start the car and I hear that background crackle. I hate the smell of dry erase markers. I only wear Secret deodorant because it's the only scent that doesn't get to me. One scent I do like is cologne on a man. Always have.

Due to the unwritten cockpit rule of no cologne, Steve has become conditioned to not wear any. On special occasions, like date night or a dance, he will bust out his Polo Black. But, it's a rare treat.

The weekend after Thanksgiving, we invited friends over for a football game. One of which was Steve's friend. He is actually the inspiration for my book, by the way. His character's name is Jack Landon. At one point I asked Steve to take the trash out, since I was busy preparing food. Steve was happy to help, and so was Jack. Steve went for the trash, and Jack took care of the recycling. As Jack passed me, I picked up his scent. After all, it was tight quarters to squeeze three adults in a rather tight space between the island and side countertop. He smelled good. So good that I nearly nuzzled my nose into his neck. I told him how nice he smelled. Steve, then proceeded to mock me and nuzzle his nose into Jack's neck as well. Jackass. 

And just this last weekend I dropped Cici off at a birthday party. As I greeted the father, a good friend of ours, I noticed his cologne. Of course I did...I notice these things. I strayed from the party for about an hour since I had some errands to run. And during that hour I could smell his cologne on my sweatshirt. It was lovely.

So be it. I guess it just makes Steve's cologne all the more special when he wears it.


I take the lead when it comes to the kids.

Christmas gifts? I've been the one buying.
Doctor appointments? I'm the one that makes them. Now, I do try to schedule them on days where Steve can take them.
Playdates? Me.
School things, like after-school activities and projects? Me.
Of course Steve pitches in when he can, but with as much as he is gone I take the lead most of the time. I'm used to doing this by now. It's my role, and I accept it.

But, every now and again, it gets to me. Doing everything all the time just gets to me.

It used to be that Steve would put the kids "down" at night when he was home, but now that they are older the dynamic has changed. They take showers independently, get dressed themselves, and brush their teeth on their own. It's typical that I'm upstairs in my bathroom getting ready for bed at the same time - contacts out, face washed, pjs on. This translate that I'm the one helping out with the kids nearly every night.

As I just stated, I accept my role. But, I have to tell you, there are times when my role just wears on me...and wears on me...and wears on me...and then I break. Like when I feel like I am the only one helping the kids with bedtime, even when Steve is home. Some may call our evenings routine, and they may be. But, sometimes something hits me just right, and I need to break that routine.

I broke this weekend. At one point during bedtime duties, when the kids were screwing around and not doing what they should have been doing, Steve commented something to me about their behavior. I took it as a personal jab, as if he was criticizing my parenting because the kids weren't doing what they were supposed to be doing. I think my response was something like, "well, do something about it!" in an elevated voice.

Steve got up and handled the kids. I stayed on the couch, typing away in my book (I'm almost at 73,000 words!). I didn't even flinch. I simply could not manage another bedtime. I needed Steve to take care of the kids that night. I needed that night off.

Like I said, most days I manage the load I carry just fine. But, sometimes it's just too much and I've had enough. We've all been there. And what's the best advice for the pilot that faces the brunt of our exhaustion? the need for a break? Just step in and let her take a load off for that moment.


Cici is in 2nd grade. We are Catholic. That means her 1st Communion is this year - in May to be exact. My boss invited me to go to a work conference in May...the three days before Cici's 1st Communion.

Miami. Nice! My initial reaction was that I surely wanted to go to the conference. A couple days away may be nice.

But, then I started to look at flights. Due to the conference schedule I would need to take a Friday evening flight after 5-6pm. There are two good options on two different airlines. Both nonstop. One gets in around 23:00 and the other is just after midnight.

Cici's 1st Communion is at 10am on Saturday morning. If I don't make that flight Friday night then the next scheduled flight wouldn't get me in until 11am on Saturday....which would make me miss her entire 1st Communion.

In the back of my head I know flights cancel. I know there are delays. I know crews time out, especially when the day is drawing to a close. I know there are cancellations. I know too much, and it gave me anxiety about missing Cici's very special day.

With no good backup option, I decided to pass on the conference. So be it. There is always going to be another year for a work conference. There won't be another 1st Communion.


Totally unrelated to being a pilot wife, but I have to share my new jam. Just discovered it yesterday. Love it! Great beat.

Have a great weekend, y'all!