Military Spouse
  • Employment
    • Military Friendly Employers
    • Virtual Job Fair
  • Education
  • Entrepreneurship
    • Open A Franchise
  • Life
    • Deployment
    • Homecoming
    • Moving
  • Relationships
  • At Home
  • Magazine
    • Current Issue
    • All Magazines
No Result
View All Result
  • Employment
    • Military Friendly Employers
    • Virtual Job Fair
  • Education
  • Entrepreneurship
    • Open A Franchise
  • Life
    • Deployment
    • Homecoming
    • Moving
  • Relationships
  • At Home
  • Magazine
    • Current Issue
    • All Magazines
No Result
View All Result
Military Spouse
No Result
View All Result

I Think My “Survival Mode” is Broken!

Military Spouse Team by Military Spouse Team
in Parenting
0
0
VIEWS
Share on FacebookShare on Twitter
  • But never mind, because I get it out there in time. The boy and I make it inside and collapse on the couch. When I’ve recovered from my near-death experience, I turn on “Jake and the Never Land Pirates” and get the box of Cheerios off the table. No, I don’t usually let the toddler eat straight from the box on the couch, but it’s been a rough morning. I have an hour before I have to leave to take my son to a Mommy and Me class. I could take a shower or remain completely stationary for half an hour.
  • It’s obvious I made the wrong choice when, 45 minutes later, I nearly suck a Cheerio down my windpipe that the boy menace put in my mouth while I was sleeping. I sit up, coughing and shedding Cheerios. I am still in my bathrobe and the boy is wearing nothing but Cowboy boots and a pacifier. And the class is 30 plus miles away. It’s run like the wind time again.
  • Arrive at the Mommy and Me class 15 minutes late and gasping for breath. Do not make eye contact with all the other moms, mostly military, probably also with absentee husbands, who made it here on time.
  • After class, contemplate going on base to the MCX and Commissary since I’m in town, then realize that my DoD decal expired last month and the renewal my husband kept meaning to get for me? Yeah. Not here. And while my military ID is current, I don’t really want to take the chance that the Marines posted at the main gate will do a car search. Biological warfare could probably be waged with the specimen currently residing in the backseat: stinky cleats, chocolate milk boxes going on their third week in the cup holders, gooey goldfish, and the lingering smell of vomit, even though I washed my son’s seat cover after he threw up last week.  Wait, did I? And that’s not all: head injuries are waiting to happen from beach chairs, softball gear, and strollers that will hemorrhage out the back if they open the trunk.
  • Opt for the grocery store on the way home instead. Have just enough time to feed the boy lunch and get the groceries put up before I have to pick the girls up from school.
  • Consider that this might be the time that “Survival Mode” doesn’t kick in as I plunder the depths of my brain for a Bob Ross kind of happy place to go to while I help my 8-year-old with her math homework. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve explained ordinal numbers and rounding to her or how many I’ve caught her craning her neck to see the “Bubble Guppies” episode the younger two are watching in the den.  If it’s the one with the Lady Gaga song in it, I’ve lost all hope of getting through to her. I wish I could float away on a happy little cloud right now. Forever.
  • Ignore the girls’ outraged claims that chicken nuggets and mandarin oranges are no longer the “special treat” for supper when Daddy’s not home that I convinced them it was years ago.  Justify it with if it eliminates my need to cook, it is still a special treat.
  • Stand at the back door and make big sweeping motions with my arm as the girls scramble to get softball socks and cleats on. Get to practice and spend the next two hours chasing the boy out of the dugout, off the field, away from the road. Decide that this absolutely counts as a workout on the Wii Fit Challenge I set up three weeks ago and then never started.
  • But never mind, because I get it out there in time. The boy and I make it inside and collapse on the couch. When I’ve recovered from my near-death experience, I turn on “Jake and the Never Land Pirates” and get the box of Cheerios off the table. No, I don’t usually let the toddler eat straight from the box on the couch, but it’s been a rough morning. I have an hour before I have to leave to take my son to a Mommy and Me class. I could take a shower or remain completely stationary for half an hour.
  • It’s obvious I made the wrong choice when, 45 minutes later, I nearly suck a Cheerio down my windpipe that the boy menace put in my mouth while I was sleeping. I sit up, coughing and shedding Cheerios. I am still in my bathrobe and the boy is wearing nothing but Cowboy boots and a pacifier. And the class is 30 plus miles away. It’s run like the wind time again.
  • Arrive at the Mommy and Me class 15 minutes late and gasping for breath. Do not make eye contact with all the other moms, mostly military, probably also with absentee husbands, who made it here on time.
  • After class, contemplate going on base to the MCX and Commissary since I’m in town, then realize that my DoD decal expired last month and the renewal my husband kept meaning to get for me? Yeah. Not here. And while my military ID is current, I don’t really want to take the chance that the Marines posted at the main gate will do a car search. Biological warfare could probably be waged with the specimen currently residing in the backseat: stinky cleats, chocolate milk boxes going on their third week in the cup holders, gooey goldfish, and the lingering smell of vomit, even though I washed my son’s seat cover after he threw up last week.  Wait, did I? And that’s not all: head injuries are waiting to happen from beach chairs, softball gear, and strollers that will hemorrhage out the back if they open the trunk.
  • Opt for the grocery store on the way home instead. Have just enough time to feed the boy lunch and get the groceries put up before I have to pick the girls up from school.
  • Consider that this might be the time that “Survival Mode” doesn’t kick in as I plunder the depths of my brain for a Bob Ross kind of happy place to go to while I help my 8-year-old with her math homework. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve explained ordinal numbers and rounding to her or how many I’ve caught her craning her neck to see the “Bubble Guppies” episode the younger two are watching in the den.  If it’s the one with the Lady Gaga song in it, I’ve lost all hope of getting through to her. I wish I could float away on a happy little cloud right now. Forever.
  • Ignore the girls’ outraged claims that chicken nuggets and mandarin oranges are no longer the “special treat” for supper when Daddy’s not home that I convinced them it was years ago.  Justify it with if it eliminates my need to cook, it is still a special treat.
  • Stand at the back door and make big sweeping motions with my arm as the girls scramble to get softball socks and cleats on. Get to practice and spend the next two hours chasing the boy out of the dugout, off the field, away from the road. Decide that this absolutely counts as a workout on the Wii Fit Challenge I set up three weeks ago and then never started.
  • But never mind, because I get it out there in time. The boy and I make it inside and collapse on the couch. When I’ve recovered from my near-death experience, I turn on “Jake and the Never Land Pirates” and get the box of Cheerios off the table. No, I don’t usually let the toddler eat straight from the box on the couch, but it’s been a rough morning. I have an hour before I have to leave to take my son to a Mommy and Me class. I could take a shower or remain completely stationary for half an hour.
  • It’s obvious I made the wrong choice when, 45 minutes later, I nearly suck a Cheerio down my windpipe that the boy menace put in my mouth while I was sleeping. I sit up, coughing and shedding Cheerios. I am still in my bathrobe and the boy is wearing nothing but Cowboy boots and a pacifier. And the class is 30 plus miles away. It’s run like the wind time again.
  • Arrive at the Mommy and Me class 15 minutes late and gasping for breath. Do not make eye contact with all the other moms, mostly military, probably also with absentee husbands, who made it here on time.
  • After class, contemplate going on base to the MCX and Commissary since I’m in town, then realize that my DoD decal expired last month and the renewal my husband kept meaning to get for me? Yeah. Not here. And while my military ID is current, I don’t really want to take the chance that the Marines posted at the main gate will do a car search. Biological warfare could probably be waged with the specimen currently residing in the backseat: stinky cleats, chocolate milk boxes going on their third week in the cup holders, gooey goldfish, and the lingering smell of vomit, even though I washed my son’s seat cover after he threw up last week.  Wait, did I? And that’s not all: head injuries are waiting to happen from beach chairs, softball gear, and strollers that will hemorrhage out the back if they open the trunk.
  • Opt for the grocery store on the way home instead. Have just enough time to feed the boy lunch and get the groceries put up before I have to pick the girls up from school.
  • Consider that this might be the time that “Survival Mode” doesn’t kick in as I plunder the depths of my brain for a Bob Ross kind of happy place to go to while I help my 8-year-old with her math homework. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve explained ordinal numbers and rounding to her or how many I’ve caught her craning her neck to see the “Bubble Guppies” episode the younger two are watching in the den.  If it’s the one with the Lady Gaga song in it, I’ve lost all hope of getting through to her. I wish I could float away on a happy little cloud right now. Forever.
  • Ignore the girls’ outraged claims that chicken nuggets and mandarin oranges are no longer the “special treat” for supper when Daddy’s not home that I convinced them it was years ago.  Justify it with if it eliminates my need to cook, it is still a special treat.
  • Stand at the back door and make big sweeping motions with my arm as the girls scramble to get softball socks and cleats on. Get to practice and spend the next two hours chasing the boy out of the dugout, off the field, away from the road. Decide that this absolutely counts as a workout on the Wii Fit Challenge I set up three weeks ago and then never started.
  • But never mind, because I get it out there in time. The boy and I make it inside and collapse on the couch. When I’ve recovered from my near-death experience, I turn on “Jake and the Never Land Pirates” and get the box of Cheerios off the table. No, I don’t usually let the toddler eat straight from the box on the couch, but it’s been a rough morning. I have an hour before I have to leave to take my son to a Mommy and Me class. I could take a shower or remain completely stationary for half an hour.
  • It’s obvious I made the wrong choice when, 45 minutes later, I nearly suck a Cheerio down my windpipe that the boy menace put in my mouth while I was sleeping. I sit up, coughing and shedding Cheerios. I am still in my bathrobe and the boy is wearing nothing but Cowboy boots and a pacifier. And the class is 30 plus miles away. It’s run like the wind time again.
  • Arrive at the Mommy and Me class 15 minutes late and gasping for breath. Do not make eye contact with all the other moms, mostly military, probably also with absentee husbands, who made it here on time.
  • After class, contemplate going on base to the MCX and Commissary since I’m in town, then realize that my DoD decal expired last month and the renewal my husband kept meaning to get for me? Yeah. Not here. And while my military ID is current, I don’t really want to take the chance that the Marines posted at the main gate will do a car search. Biological warfare could probably be waged with the specimen currently residing in the backseat: stinky cleats, chocolate milk boxes going on their third week in the cup holders, gooey goldfish, and the lingering smell of vomit, even though I washed my son’s seat cover after he threw up last week.  Wait, did I? And that’s not all: head injuries are waiting to happen from beach chairs, softball gear, and strollers that will hemorrhage out the back if they open the trunk.
  • Opt for the grocery store on the way home instead. Have just enough time to feed the boy lunch and get the groceries put up before I have to pick the girls up from school.
  • Consider that this might be the time that “Survival Mode” doesn’t kick in as I plunder the depths of my brain for a Bob Ross kind of happy place to go to while I help my 8-year-old with her math homework. I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve explained ordinal numbers and rounding to her or how many I’ve caught her craning her neck to see the “Bubble Guppies” episode the younger two are watching in the den.  If it’s the one with the Lady Gaga song in it, I’ve lost all hope of getting through to her. I wish I could float away on a happy little cloud right now. Forever.
  • Ignore the girls’ outraged claims that chicken nuggets and mandarin oranges are no longer the “special treat” for supper when Daddy’s not home that I convinced them it was years ago.  Justify it with if it eliminates my need to cook, it is still a special treat.
  • Stand at the back door and make big sweeping motions with my arm as the girls scramble to get softball socks and cleats on. Get to practice and spend the next two hours chasing the boy out of the dugout, off the field, away from the road. Decide that this absolutely counts as a workout on the Wii Fit Challenge I set up three weeks ago and then never started.
    Page 2 of 3
    Prev123Next
    Tags: copingdeploymentFinding the FunnyhumorparentingSingle-Parent Strategies
    • Previous Post

    How I Found Myself In The Wisdom Of The Quiet

     Next Post

    Stripping Down to Undies for Charity this Valentine’s Day!
    Next Post

    Stripping Down to Undies for Charity this Valentine's Day!

    Please login to join discussion

    Latest
    Life

    When “Strong” Starts to Feel Exhausting

    Family

    Raising Resilient Kids Without Raising Tiny Stress Balls

    Life

    Spring Bucket List for Military Families (No Leave Required)

    Life

    Living in Compressed Time: Why It Makes Friendship Feel Intense

    Life

    Why Military Friendships Form So Fast

    Life

    What I Wish I Knew Before My First PCS (That No One Told Me)

    In Case You Missed It

    Intentional in the Ordinary: A Hello From Your Friend Next Door

    The Unofficial Military Spouse Spring Reset Checklist

    The Loudest Voice in the Room Is Yours

    March Madness, But It’s Just Our Schedules

    We Don’t Need More “Strong Spouse” Narratives

    Luck of the Military Spouse: 10 Things We Call “Lucky” (But Totally Aren’t)

    Terms of Use
    Our Team
    Advertise
    Newsletter
    Submit an Article
    Contact Us
    Privacy Policy
    Compliance

    Fall 2025

    MSM_Fall25_Cover

    Copyright © 2026 Military Spouse

    Employment

    Family

    Lifestyle

    Sitemap

    No Result
    View All Result
    • #5590 (no title)
    • 2016 Kensington Book Club
      • Author Guest Posts
      • Book Club Picks
      • Deals of the Month
      • Exclusive Excerpts
      • Giveaways
      • Recipes
    • 2017 Military Spouse Friendly Employers®
    • Account
    • Advertise
    • Affiliate Disclosure
    • Air Force
    • Army
    • Base SOY Survey
    • Base to Beaches
    • Brands
    • Career
    • Career Resources
    • Coast Guard
    • Compliance
    • Contact Us
    • Contests
      • Contest Rules
    • Deployment
    • Editorial Calendar – Our Themes
    • Education Resources
    • Giveaway Sign-up
    • Hangouts
    • Health
    • Home
    • Home 2
    • Home 3
    • Home 4
    • Home 5
    • Homeschooling
    • I Pledge to Embrace Video Page
    • Login
    • Logout
    • Magazine
      • Current Issue
      • Fall Issue
      • Fall Issue
      • January / February
      • July / August
      • March / April
      • May / June
      • November / December
      • September / October
      • Special Issue
      • Special Issue 2024
      • Spring
      • Spring Issue
      • Spring Issue
      • Winter
      • Winter Issue
      • Winter Issue
    • Malmstrom AFB SOY 2016 | Alexandra Fuller
    • Marine Corps
    • Members
    • Military Kids
    • Military Spouse [Live]
    • Military Spouse 2019 Media Partnership Guide
    • Military Spouse Education eNewsletter
    • Military Spouse Friendly Employers®
    • Military Spouse Media Partnership Guide
    • Military Spouse Partners
    • Military Spouse Quality of Life Survey
    • Military Spouse Student Leadership Award and Military Spouse Champions in Higher Education Award
    • Military Spouse Sweepstakes Official Rules (“Official Rules”)
    • Military Spouse Team
    • MILITARY SPOUSE: EDUCATION GUIDE
    • MILITARY SPOUSE: EMPLOYMENT GUIDE
    • MILITARY SPOUSE: PCS GUIDE
    • Military Spouse: Submit a calendar event
    • Money & More
    • MSOY Homepage
    • MSOY12
    • MSOY16 Live ☆
    • National Guard
    • Navy
    • Navy Mutual
    • New Spouse Email Series
    • Our Team
    • Password Reset
    • PCS
    • Privacy Policies
    • QAs
      • Submit a Question
    • Register
    • Share
      • Glossary
        • A
        • B
        • C
        • D
        • E
        • F
        • G
        • H
        • I
        • J
        • K
        • L
        • M
        • N
        • O
        • P
        • Q
        • R
        • S
        • Submit a Glossary Term
        • T
        • U
        • V
        • W
        • X
        • Y
        • Z
    • Share Your Military Lifestyle!
    • Share Your Photos
    • Simplify Your Crazy, Wonderful Military Life
    • Site Map
    • Small Businesses
    • Spouse 101 Download
    • SPOUSE 101 GUIDE
    • Starbucks
    • Submit an Article
    • Terms of Use
    • testing of the Gutenberg
    • Thank You
    • The Military Spouse Resource Collection
    • User

    © 2026 JNews - Premium WordPress news & magazine theme by Jegtheme.