The G is not for Gangster

Time for a break from my spree of philosophical posts to discuss what’s going on in our first two weeks of pilot training. Technically, C hasn’t actually started yet. Since we’re Guard, we were required to report to our base 10 business days prior to his start-date, which means, we were here two weeks early. (Those from the Academy or ROTC programs could have been here for several months already, awaiting training, and have been assigned various jobs around base while they wait.) Those two weeks are designed to let families (or individuals) settle into their new homes and for the lieutenant to complete a massive list called in-processing. Every time we go to a new base or C goes to a new training he has to in-process (and out-process when he leaves). The steps fluctuate somewhat, but because of the nature of this extensive program, the list is pretty long. The tasks vary from signing up for Tricare medical to attending orientations and briefings (what we refer to as “death by PowerPoint”). Of course, these irresponsible new officers cannot be trusted to complete the tasks on their own, so C has to report for check-in each morning at 8 a.m. and is dismissed at 11:30. The time is to be spent checking off items on the in-processing checklist or completing other menial tasks. Personally, I consider it a bit of a waste of time, but at least it provides us with a regular schedule to get used to.

There is one event on the checklist that new AF pilots everywhere look forward to more than any other: the fitting and reception of the G-suit, helmet, and mask.

The helmet and mask are pretty self-explanatory (if you’re not sure, reference Top Gun for an example), but what is this apparatus called a G-suit, you might be wondering? Wikipedia says,

 A G-suit, or the more accurately named anti-G suit, is worn by aviators and astronauts who are subject to high levels of acceleration force ('Gs'). It is designed to prevent a black-out and G-LOC (G-induced Loss Of Consciousness) caused by the blood pooling in the lower part of the body when under acceleration, thus depriving the brain of blood. (2010).

Sounds like a pretty handy device to me. Here’s what it looks like:

Picture from: flighthelmet.com

While being fitted for these contraptions may not sound like the most exciting task to most of us, to the pilot it is an indicator of things to come. In short, the necessity for a helmet, mask, and G-suit signifies that he (or she) will have need for them – meaning that sometime in the near future they themselves will be “pulling G’s” in acrobatic maneuvers. Now that is exciting. 

A Lesson from Popeye

Since becoming a mother, I have wanted nothing more than to be able to stay home and raise my little girl. My career has always been very important to me – in fact, teaching was my lifelong dream – and I never thought that I would want to give it up, even temporarily. Motherhood lends a new perspective to everything.

This year, I’m getting my wish. A year+ of pilot training (that happens to not match up with a school year) and the cost efficiency of base living provide the perfect opportunity to allow me to stay home with H. I couldn’t be happier to finally be able to have a schedule that allows for preschool and mommy-daughter days. I think it will be a terrific experience for both of us.

Loving our Mommy-daughter time

It’s funny how we tend to define ourselves by our careers. I wasn’t quite prepared for the loss of identity that came with my decision to stay home. For the last seven years I haven’t been just me, I’ve been a teacher. Other titles follow suit – wife, mother, daughter – but my entire being was wrapped up in being a teacher, much like C is a pilot at heart. (Think about when you introduce someone: “This is Bob. He’s a [fill in the blank].” It’s how our society operates.) So I began to ask myself: who am I now?

The answer came by focusing on my goals and what I want to accomplish during this year that I have been blessed with. 1) I want to spend as much time with my daughter as possible, doing all the things we couldn’t do while I was working. (That includes enrolling her in preschool since all of the preschools we’ve encountered have had irregular, non-work-friendly hours) 2) I want to get back in shape. 3) I want to finish the book I’ve been writing for the past few years and try to get it published.

While these goals gave me a pretty clear-cut path on how to spend my days, they still didn’t provide me with the “title” I seemed to be craving. That’s when I figured it out: Why do I need to define myself with a title? Why do any of us?  Why can’t we just be ourselves and do the things we love to do and accomplish our goals without being defined as something. I am a mother, but that is only one of many ways that I am identified. I don’t have to label myself a “fitness guru” in order to make the gym a part of my routine. I don’t have to be a “chef” to enjoy cooking. In the words of Popeye the Sailorman, “I yam what I yam and that’s all that I yam." 

From tvtropes.org

School is Candy for the Brain

In addition to the transition into our new home and state, we’ve been preparing our daughter (H) for one more big change: preschool. As a teacher, education tops my priority list, so I’ve been trying to make school sound fun and exciting for the last few months, almost as a reward for our big move. (“When we get to our new house, you get to go to school!”) With a daughter as timid as ours, C and I have approached the first day of school with a bit of inner trepidation, however. H shies away from family and friends on a regular basis, let alone complete strangers who definitely aren’t her mommy. She is the type that often gets overlooked in social situations because she is so quiet and attentive and not boisterously clamoring for attention.

We’ve decided to walk to school each morning (weather permitting), which H views as a kind of treat. We took a tour of the school, walk by the playground almost every day, and have really been talking up what great fun school is. (“Mommy liked school so much, she goes there for her job!”) So yesterday, H was dressed in her favorite cute outfit, strapped in to her panda backpack (not that she needed it – it’s just part of the school “package” for her), and bouncing in her metallic pink tennies, bursting with excitement. 

I was hopeful that we would get through the morning without tears. As we walked, she grasped my hand gradually tighter, until we got to the entrance and she threatened to cut off my blood supply. Still no tears though. The moment we walked through the threshold to her classroom the excitement was replaced with utter apprehension. Tears – lots of them – and “I want my mommy!” followed. Of course, I had to hold back my own tears as I tried not to berate myself for leaving her or think about how quickly the years have gone. I left her in the care of her very capable teacher, asking her to please call if the tears didn’t stop soon - usually it’s out of sight, out of mind with her.  Fortunately this held true and no phone calls were necessary.

Just before lunch, I came back to pick her up, as promised. Whether it was from thinking I wouldn’t return or just because she thinks I’m a sucker, H immediately burst into tears again. Her teacher assured me that she had had a good day – though a bit shy, she participated and had fun. We celebrated with a trip to McD’s and a full discussion of her day. After a while, I felt confident that school had not been torture and we might even try it again.

And guess what? No tears today – only smiles.

Here we go!

Price Pritchett remarked, "Change always comes bearing gifts." Sometimes the change itself may be the gift. Other times we may not immediately recognize the gifts through the chaos that inevitably follows. Regardless, change is at once exciting and nerve-wracking.

 Last summer, my husband (C) was selected for a pilot slot with the Air National Guard. Many are confused about what the Air Guard is, so let's clear that up right now: basically, the guard is part of the Air Force, which some choose to pursue as a part-time job and others undertake as a full-time career.  For us, it is the equivalent of active duty Air Force, without all of the moving. The Air Guard is extremely competitive - we were thrilled when C was chosen for two interviews out of three applications. I think I actually screamed when we got the call that one of the units had chosen him out of dozens of other qualified candidates.

To summarize the last year, after C was selected in July, he enlisted in the unit in October and attended drill weekends once a month. In March, he attended Officer Training School for six weeks (a blog unto itself) while my daughter (H) and I stayed with my parents in his absence. Our happy reunion occurred in April, where C was sworn in as a 2^nd Lieutenant in the USAF at OTS graduation. I couldn’t have been more proud! At the end of May, our family embarked on our first cross-country roadtrip to join our new unit while C awaited a date for pilot training (UPT). The date came a lot sooner than we expected and we found ourselves back on the road after four short months.

OTS Graduation

This brings me back to present day: this week we arrived at our UPT base and moved into our new house. The community, though charming, comes with a certain amount of culture shock (I’ve discovered that I am definitely a city girl) and base living also requires a bit of adjustment (under any circumstance, do not speed!). I think we’re all a bit tired of staring at boxes after three moves in the last eight months or so. But I am proud to announce, after three days of non-stop unpacking, my house is now empty of cardboard and is actually starting to look like a home.

I know that C and I are both nervous about embarking on what has been called “the best and worst year of our lives”, but I think that this journey is probably a gift in itself. So, here we go!