I have a secret admirer.
Or a thoughtful neighbor. That’s more like it.

Cindy, the mom of the two girls we entertained last night, brought over these flowers today.
She was gone longer than she had anticipated last night and felt bad about it. She offered these beautiful flowers as a thank you.

I, of course, being a pushover helpful neighbor, didn’t mind watching her kids at all. They’re very well behaved and they keep Caroline out of my hair. As it is, they’re here most days of the week anyway. If it’s daylight and school is not in session Caroline MUST play with someone.
At. All. Times.

I should also mention that I probably shouldn’t be thanked *too* profusely for my services because I could have damaged her two daughter’s little lungs with smoke inhalation after the pizza baking/ smoke alarm sounding debacle. Oh and Rachel got splinters in her foot on my deck. A conscientious baby sitter would notice bare feet on a wooden deck and suggest the wearing of socks.

So, while I could have done better and didn’t find this to be an act of great sacrifice, it is nice to receive some pretty flowers. Especially a bunch that contains a gerbera daisy, my absolute favorite.

They’re cheerful.
Like me!

Cindy was very apologetic and concerned that I felt put out by yesterday’s festivities. I wasn’t, of course, but it got me thinking.
Yeah, I really do think sometimes.

And all this thinking led me to conclude, with great certainty, that it’s the military wife in me that views keeping an eye on a neighbor’s kid as a natural part of life.
Second nature.
Not a big deal whatsoever.
Unless the kid is a total monster brat, but thankfully, I’ve encountered only a few of those. And being the doormat nice person I am, I’d still watch the devil child.

That’s what military wives do.

We help each other out when our military dudes can’t. They get phone calls at 4am for a urinalysis. They get deployed. They work odd hours. Or heaven forbid they get sent on a temporary duty assignments to horrible places like Germany 😉 Or Fort Polk, Louisiana.

Doctor’s appointments. Hair cuts. Quick trips to the store for milk. Or not so quick trips to the post office. Military spouse or not, we all know how long those lines can be.

It’s nice knowing that you have a neighbor and friend to rely on.

Especially when the last thing you want to do is wrangle a kid who is swinging from the line ropes in the post office, jumping on and trying to rearrange all the chairs in the pharmacy waiting area, racing down the cereal aisle only to dart in front of an angry and not so patient shopper wielding a big cart, complaining that the dairy aisle is too cold or wanting to chat with the commissary baggers as they sit on a bench, waiting for their turn to bag groceries.

These are all hypothetical situations.
NONE of these have happened to ME. Nope. Never.

When your neighbor has the movers over packing up their belongings and kids under foot.
What do you do? You keep their kids.

Same thing when you have a doctor’s appointment and the sign in the office clearly states NO CHILDREN ALLOWED. What do you do? You ask your neighbor.

The military housing experience can be really positive. Especially if you’re fortunate to find a warm and friendly environment. Everyone is in the same situation. Shared experiences are a great bonding tool.

We’ve been pretty blessed with great neighbors throughout the years, especially in Georgia.

Our Maryland neighbors were nice. Until I learned that the wife was a compulsive liar. She borrowed money, claiming the bank took two car payments out in one month, but in reality, she bounced some checks and needed the cash. She promised to pay us back. And pay us for the couch she “bought” from us.

That didn’t happen.
I was annoyed that we lost $450, but more upset that I was totally blind to her crazy lies. I’m often too trusting and definitely too gullible.
Live and learn.

Here in Virginia, we don’t live on post; housing wasn’t available at the time of our arrival.
I was really concerned (me worry?) that we wouldn’t find a close knit neighborhood in the civilian world. Thankfully we were led to a wonderful subdivision with nice neighbors. While I miss living on post and the close proximity to everything we need, I’m really happy to live here.

I say this, knowing quite well, that in three days I’ll be complaining about something the neighborhood kids did to annoy me.

But for today I’ll bask in this very foreign feeling of contentment.



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