Wildland Wife

Being married to a wildland firefighter in the summer is kind of like being a single parent… but with more laundry and fewer answers about when he’ll be home. I knew what I was getting into.…But it still kinda honestly really absolutely sometimes just sucks.

But while he’s off chasing smoke, eating questionable meals, and making unforgettable memories I’m back here trying to keep the kids alive, and pretending

I’m not completely bitter about going to all the summer activities solo ….. again.

I love him. I’m proud of him. His heart is massive and his work matters. I admire his dedication and at the end of the day i new that I would spend my summer explaining to disappointed children that “Daddy’s fighting fire” and no, we don’t know if he’ll make it to the parade, the fair, fireworks or anything that involves sunscreen and joy.

And yet, every year, the second he gets the call, my heart does this flip flop mix of “oh sh*t” and wow, this is actually kind of exciting. There’s an adrenaline rush when that gear bag gets zipped up. It’s wild and weird with equal parts dread, pride, and “how many days until you come home?” ….. A question that i know never has a real answer but we will still keep asking it anyway.

We make the memories, take the pictures, and save him a snow cone (which will melt, obviously, like my patience by mid-July).

To the other fire families out there doing it all I see you. You’re not alone. We’re all just out here pretending we don’t hear that little voice in our head whispering, “this f@*king sucks” while also bursting with pride. It’s truly a very weird combo of emotions. But we’re still out here smiling for the pictures, swearing under our breath, and holding down the fort with caffeine, nicotine, stubbornness, and love!

Stay safe out there, babe. We’ll be right here when you get home, slightly feral, potentially sunburned, sticky, yet still waiting for you with open arms when the smoke clears.