Hello, Goodbye {The Reality of Living a Transient Lifestyle as a Family}

Our family moves. A lot. A constant theme of “hello, goodbye.” My husband is active duty Air Force, so it comes with the territory. We are raising three daughters, who are 4,5, and 8; they were each born in a different state. These states are what they claim as “home,” even if they don’t remember living there, because, honestly, they aren’t sure what to claim and it makes it more fun for each girl to have her “own.” I get it, as their mama, because I also grew up in a military family. I still claim Alaska and Kansas, because those are where I spent the formative years of my life.

Our lifestyle doesn’t make sense to some people. I have heard it all.

“Oh, that must be hard.” {It is, but only some days.}

“How difficult for your children.” {We know. Yes. But it is also beneficial in so many ways.}

“I don’t know how you guys do it.” {Me either, sometimes.}

And, occasionally, usually from someone who has had military ties or other frequent moves, “What an awesome opportunity for your family!” {I must admit, this last one, though difficult to see in certain moments, is so true. I am grateful that others can see the joy with us.}

In Dayton, we tend to blend in more because of the large military community. The last place we lived, my husband was the only guy on the block in camo. Here, my kids actually have to make sure it is their dad before they run up and hug someone’s legs. More people here “get it” because they are living it. But for those who don’t understand, here is one view of what it is like to live this life.

It feels lonely at times. For us and our kids. We try to plug in deeply for a few years and then have to abruptly leave and watch them struggle. {It was so much easier before kids. For such little things, they have some seriously big opinions and emotions}.

It looks like being proud. We are so insanely proud of our guy for his hard work and dedication, for the endless hours he pours into others and then comes home to pour into us. Though, I might lose my mind if my daughter declares one more time when I am exhausted from solo parenting, “Poor, Daddy must be so tired working for the whole country!” {You are killing me, kid. Insert laughing, crying, eye-rolling emoji}. We are also proud of each community we get to be a part of, and the growth we see in each place we live.

It feels like fun! We get to move to all these new places and try out things that our family would never have done otherwise. We move somewhere and hype it up. We try to do all the fun things. Since relocating here, we have spent numerous days at 2nd Street Market, checked out many MetroParks, watched the Dayton Dragons, gone to the lake multiple Saturdays, and driven down to join the Cincinnati Zoo where we fed giraffes. Previously, we lived outside of DC, where we got to play tourist many weekends, run around at the monuments as the sun set, and attend the Cherry Blossom Festival. We lived on the central coast of California where we hung out at all the beaches, joined a winery for the views, saw the butterfly grove trees heavy with Monarchs, and toured multiple spaces up and down the coast. Each place we live holds so many potential adventures, so we dive in and enjoy the time we do have.

It looks like loss. The loss of time with our family together, because the military member misses a lot. He misses mundane events and also big ones. When he is here, he is really here. He is on their level playing, teaching music, running around, holding crying kids. But, when he isn’t, it is hard for everyone. It looks like loss of time with extended family because that is rare when everyone is scattered around. Loss of communities over and over. Occasional loss of my sanity sometimes.

It feels like being consistently inconsistent. Without consistent help near, and travel schedules changing and work hours changing, my ability to commit to anything at all with young kids depending on me when he is gone changes. Some weeks, we can do a lot. Some weeks we are survival mode.

It looks like seasonal relationships, reconnecting with old friends and still having a deep connection. Last year, I sat with three other women in a California friends’ family beach house, laughing and crying and talking. It looks like random texts and calls. This week, while he is gone, it looked like friends from six years prior blessing me with dinner at their home downtown, babysitting dear friends another night, and hosting dinner with a sweet gal and her babes the night after. I am learning that we don’t pour in vain. These relationships, even if they are seasonal, are deeply impactful and helpful to us all.

It feels like having to advocate for yourself and your kids, sometimes to the point of sheer exhaustion. Because no normal person changes doctors this many times. Or struggles to find an OB who wants to take you on as a high-risk pregnancy because you “moved after the 20-week mark.” Or has to ask random people to be their emergency contacts. Bonus, here, they weren’t random. They were people I already trusted, because, when you move a lot, you have friends all over the place. We have met so many great people because of this lifestyle.

It looks like finding joy in the messiness that is this transient life, being hopeful on the bad days and crazy happy on the good ones. It looks like realizing how not alone I am in this because so many others are going through it over and over again, too. Or maybe realizing we are “alone together.” Is that a thing? I think it must be.

It feels like all the hellos and all the goodbyes, knowing while we won’t be anywhere long, any time we do spend investing will be worth it. It is worth it for our community, for our daughters, and for ourselves. I am equal parts grateful for this lifestyle and exhausted by it. I find deep freedom in it and sometimes deep struggle. I am insanely thankful that this is the life we have chosen. It is a good one. Our kids benefit from the people they meet and the experiences they have. Hopefully, they will appreciate it more in the future. Please don’t feel bad for us. We enjoy this life. We are proud of it. And truly, while we may have some different stressors, military families are just like their non-military counterparts; we simply move {way} more and know where to get the best boxes. {The liquor stores tend to have really durable, small ones for free ;)}

I have been encouraged recently by the vulnerability I see over at Legacy Magazine. They published this article that entails how others are feeling, specifically in regards to deployments, but I found it to hold true for military life in general. It is worth your time if you love someone living this life. I see you all, and I am pulling for you and your families.