Bullets, Bombs, & Bombshells

“Pentagon lifts ban on women in combat…women now eligible for U.S. combat duty…” so says CNN’s headlines. I imagine there were hundreds of medics and security forces of the female persuasion who laughed at that news, considering they’ve been in combat for years at this point. The first two women to earn Silver Stars since WWII were a cop and a medic.

Modern warfare is an equal opportunity slaughterhouse, and to say that women shouldn’t be eligible for the frontlines is to say that one life is more important than another. Women in the military can take a bullet and shoot a bullet the same as a man.

Please don’t read that last line as: Women are completely, in every way, physically equal to men. I do not agree that is the case. Science proves otherwise, so there’s no need to chase that rabbit.

I imagine this recent legislation ranks right up there with “allowing” homosexuals to serve in the military. My response to lifting DADT was barely more than an eyebrow raise…whooptydooo. This is my eleventh year of service, and from day one I’ve served alongside many upstanding gays and lesbians. They’ve always been there, and it’s never been a problem. They are people, just like me, and I’ve never made any distinctions.

As long as the military keeps standards high and doesn’t soften requirements for the sake of increasing female numbers in combat positions, then this should be little more than a blip on the radar of military history. Yes, it is significant, and I’m sure feminists all over the country are burning an extra bra in celebration, but I don’t think fainting couches and extra smelling salts will be needed to accommodate any delicate sensibilities.

Wake-up Smiles and Night-night Kisses

Two years ago today, Mark and I had the most gorgeous wedding in the history of weddings (of course I’m biased). One year ago today, I was five months pregnant – full of excitement and anticipation (and a squishy baby). Today, right now, that sweet little man is asleep in my arms…and I’m overwhelmed with God’s gracious blessings.

Mark’s hard work and brilliant financial planning have allowed me to stay home with Asher. While I absolutely loved teaching and miss the camaraderie of my students, I wouldn’t change a thing. This is the life I’ve always wanted. As a girl, I wanted to be a mommy – just like my mom and Granny.

Aside from my own home, I never felt more loved than when I was at my granny’s house. She had a way of making me feel like the most special little girl in the world, and I long to keep that tradition of love and nurturing alive for my son. As much as I aspire to be like my mother and grandmother, I definitely fall short in the areas of cooking and housekeeping.

The way I see it, I have the rest of my life to keep a clean house. Granted, we don’t live in filth, but there are dishes in the sink, toys in the floor, sticky substances on the counter, and a load of towels in the dryer as I type. This morning Asher and I took a two hour nap together. Well, he slept while I snuggled him. Even though there were plenty of things to keep me busy, I wanted him to fall asleep and wake up next to me (and nurse to his heart’s content throughout his nap). But most of all, I wanted to catch his wake-up smile. This is one of my greatest joys.

When he wakes up in the morning and from his daily naps, he opens his eyes, blinks for a bit, and as soon as he sees me, his whole face lights up! This happens three times a day (assuming he wakes up next to me and not in his crib…crib wakes-ups involve crying until I rescue him), and my goal is to catch all of those special, sleepy smiles.

Every time I see his smile, I don’t feel so guilty about laundry or dishes. I know one day he’ll be “too cool” to hug and kiss me in front of his friends. One day, he will sleep all night in his bed and wake up on his own. One day, he’ll rush out of the house to be with his friends…one day, a girlfriend. Right now, I’m the most important woman in his life, and I don’t want to miss anything. Fifteen years down the road, I’ll relish every memory of every wake-up smile; I’ll get teary-eyed at the thought of nursing him to sleep, and I’ll miss my sweet baby. So for now, I’ll tend to the laundry later.