Dedicated to our WingMoms who held our hands through this journey, mother-to-mother as only mothers can.  Our forever thanks for your service to your country!  You made us American WingMoms.  Loud and Proud.  Wolfpack Strong!

Tapping Out……

In the Air Force, the concept of Tapping Out is really just their means of dismissing their Airmen/women in an orderly fashion.  They tell us this during Basic Military Training (BMT) right and proper.  And, "Yes, Sir/Mam" we get the message straight and clear.

But, as a mother of two former children, now men, who are completing their first steps as Airmen, I suspect that this "Tapping Out" is going to be so very much more.

Eight and one-half weeks ago, I sent to the Air Force two young men, barely able to get their hairs cut without the company of their mother (well, they could, they just always said they liked me to come along for the ride and the "payment").  I went until I knew I had to cut their strings.  I make no apologies.

In the past eight and one half weeks, I have read in the words of my sons's letters a progression of growth and maturity.  That, which had they not had this "Trainee" experience, they would have never have met in quite the same way.  I am grateful they chose service of our country.  

At first, they wrote with either a desperate need to hear me say, "you can do this" or a need to hear me write, "you better take this seriously".  They are as different as day and night.  I knew that since womb-creating began.  One active, busy ready to attack the world type son and the other a calm, laid back and slower to react son.  Both wrote letters home as expected for their personalities.  Both struggled in ways this mother's heart knew they would.  Both grew through their challenges in methods which God designed over 20 years ago.  

 Knowing in advance what might pose a struggle in no way lessened this mother's concern or worry.  But, truth is, I believed in them with full heart and great expectations.  My faith in them far exceeded any anxiety.  I don't say that boldly for it was a work to get there.  I say that humbly, because I believed in the hearts and strength of my sons (and, daughter as well).

When your child takes his or her first journey away from you, his mother, they need to travel with your blessing and preparedness.  It is my mother obligation to get them ready. It is their duty to be good students. I am convinced, that it is not love when you so cater to every whim of your child that making an independent decision weakens them.

I am guilty, at times, of being a helicopter mother.  I am guilty of doing too much.  I lay this down as truth.  But, what I am learning that it is never too late to change that habit and by doing so, give back to my children their confidence and maturity.

Roots and Wings are words which are sung often in my large family.  Roots and Wings….deep roots to give them stability and wings to let them fly.  And, a nest which is always there when needs arise to return.

Like it or not, my children's roots were tested and their wings were forced to grow and expand to fit their bodies, minds and spirits.  I was not there as they arrived in San Antonio, Texas to meet the man/woman who would chew them up and spit them out frequently over the next 8.5 weeks in attempt to take play dough and make it into strong clay.

I was not there to tell them when to speak and when to be quiet.  How long to lift their suitcases up and down under the direction of an MTI who cared not one whit about who they were, what sport they succeeded in, how straight were their A's on their report cards, or how close they were to their Mommy.

MTIs don't care if your name is Kennedy or if your tooth hurts and you need a Tylenol.  They don't care if you forgot to put fresh water in your canteen in 98 degree weather and are going to pass out.  It does not matter if back home you are known for your sense of humor or parent's bank account.

In fact, it is that part of you that they don't want to see…..hear….smell

In BMT, my sons became nobodies to themselves so that they could be molded into Airmen for our country.

The Military is giving a gift to my sons I could not give and in a way I could not give it.

So, as I head to "tap out" my sons someday soon….I say thank you to those MTI's with names I know but whose faces I may never see or hands I may never shake.  Thank you for taking my baby boys and walking them up a few rungs on the ladder of their lives in a way no Mama can.  

Thank you for your service in taking my sons out of their self-absorbed life and into one which "Wingman" becomes more important than their individual names.  Where partnering with a buddy and saving a comrade is what life is about.

They are American Airmen

And, I am and American WingMom

God bless you every one! 

Blessings,

Lesa

Tapping Out……

In the Air Force, the concept of Tapping Out is really just their means of dismissing their Airmen/women in an orderly fashion.  They tell us this during Basic Military Training (BMT) right and proper.  And, "Yes, Sir/Mam" we get the message straight and clear.

But, as a mother of two former children, now men, who are completing their first steps as Airmen, I suspect that this "Tapping Out" is going to be so very much more.

Eight and one-half weeks ago, I sent to the Air Force two young men, barely able to get their hairs cut without the company of their mother (well, they could, they just always said they liked me to come along for the ride and the "payment").  I went until I knew I had to cut their strings.  I make no apologies.

In the past eight and one half weeks, I have read in the words of my sons's letters a progression of growth and maturity.  That, which had they not had this "Trainee" experience, they would have never have met in quite the same way.  I am grateful they chose service of our country.  

At first, they wrote with either a desperate need to hear me say, "you can do this" or a need to hear me write, "you better take this seriously".  They are as different as day and night.  I knew that since womb-creating began.  One active, busy ready to attack the world type son and the other a calm, laid back and slower to react son.  Both wrote letters home as expected for their personalities.  Both struggled in ways this mother's heart knew they would.  Both grew through their challenges in methods which God designed over 20 years ago.  

 Knowing in advance what might pose a struggle in no way lessened this mother's concern or worry.  But, truth is, I believed in them with full heart and great expectations.  My faith in them far exceeded any anxiety.  I don't say that boldly for it was a work to get there.  I say that humbly, because I believed in the hearts and strength of my sons (and, daughter as well).

When your child takes his or her first journey away from you, his mother, they need to travel with your blessing and preparedness.  It is my mother obligation to get them ready. It is their duty to be good students. I am convinced, that it is not love when you so cater to every whim of your child that making an independent decision weakens them.

I am guilty, at times, of being a helicopter mother.  I am guilty of doing too much.  I lay this down as truth.  But, what I am learning that it is never too late to change that habit and by doing so, give back to my children their confidence and maturity.

Roots and Wings are words which are sung often in my large family.  Roots and Wings….deep roots to give them stability and wings to let them fly.  And, a nest which is always there when needs arise to return.

Like it or not, my children's roots were tested and their wings were forced to grow and expand to fit their bodies, minds and spirits.  I was not there as they arrived in San Antonio, Texas to meet the man/woman who would chew them up and spit them out frequently over the next 8.5 weeks in attempt to take play dough and make it into strong clay.

I was not there to tell them when to speak and when to be quiet.  How long to lift their suitcases up and down under the direction of an MTI who cared not one whit about who they were, what sport they succeeded in, how straight were their A's on their report cards, or how close they were to their Mommy.

MTIs don't care if your name is Kennedy or if your tooth hurts and you need a Tylenol.  They don't care if you forgot to put fresh water in your canteen in 98 degree weather and are going to pass out.  It does not matter if back home you are known for your sense of humor or parent's bank account.

In fact, it is that part of you that they don't want to see…..hear….smell

In BMT, my sons became nobodies to themselves so that they could be molded into Airmen for our country.

The Military is giving a gift to my sons I could not give and in a way I could not give it.

So, as I head to "tap out" my sons someday soon….I say thank you to those MTI's with names I know but whose faces I may never see or hands I may never shake.  Thank you for taking my baby boys and walking them up a few rungs on the ladder of their lives in a way no Mama can.  

Thank you for your service in taking my sons out of their self-absorbed life and into one which "Wingman" becomes more important than their individual names.  Where partnering with a buddy and saving a comrade is what life is about.

They are American Airmen

And, I am and American WingMom

God bless you every one! 

Blessings,

Lesa