Tuesday, March 8, 2011

The life of a cop.

I was never a "real" Police Officer.  I'm not ashamed to admit that.  I was a Navy Master-At-Arms & a VA Police Officer for a brief moment in time.

But what I wouldn't give to be a real cop.  To be able to help people, to solve mysteries, to feel like I was really making a difference.

I used to put on my uniform everyday & think nothing of it.  Sure, once in awhile I felt proud of myself for serving my country, but I never thought I was doing anything particularly spectacular.  Since I've gotten out of the Navy I've realized that I was doing something special.  Not everyone can serve their country.  Not everyone can travel all over the world, not seeing their families for months at a time.  Not everyone can go through boot camp.

I did something good.  & I also did something good by choosing to get out & serve my family.  Being able to be home with Cody & Sawyer is a huge blessing that some mothers only dream about.

But I'd be lying if I said I wasn't restless.  I'd be lying if I said I didn't miss putting on my uniform.  O\r if I didn't miss carrying a gun. Or feeling like I was a part of something bigger.

2 comments:

  1. I would hate to be the guy to break into your house though. Mama bear instinct with military experience is bad news for bad guys. ;) Keep writing, I am reading.

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  2. Thank you for being honest!!! I absolutely LOVE being a stay at home mama- i know its what I'm called to for now- especially with Roo's disability- i need to be fully accessible to him and to his school- and its such a blessing to be able to do all the mommy things- HOWEVER, i have a degree and i sometimes think, what am i doing? What was all that time, effort and energy (and student loans) for anyway? I think its totally normal to sometimes feel like being a SAHM is not enough- or to feel like those women who are out there doing "something" are better in some way- then i check myself :) I think about how they are only little once, and how when they grow up and they have children of their own, they will smile when they remember that i was home for them- that i endured hours of Dora or Yo Gabba Gabba, and that I was the kind of mom that made playdough from scratch with them- that i was there to kiss the owies, and make forts in the livingroom from bedsheets and comforters :) i'm right there with you my friend, great post!

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