Camo Wife Chronicles

So, after my last slightly heartfelt post, I thought I would share something slightly more comical.

You’ve seen the film Meet the Parents, right? Well, if you haven’t… I’m not angry, I’m just disappointed. I suggest you add it to your watch list ASAP. Anyway, for those that have seen it you’ll know the famous “Wall of Gaylord” the parents create for their son, Gaylord Focker. This is essentially a shrine to their son and all his accolades, mainly incredibly embarrassing ones, like “Well done for participating” medals. I’ll put a picture below to jog your memory.

Now, my husband’s name isn’t Gaylord (thankfully), nor is my last name Focker (no words necessary), but my husband has recently had his own Wall of Gaylord erected, which we lovingly call the Wall of Focker. His parents have collected numerous photos, medals, certificates, trophies, and other paraphernalia over the years, and have very proudly (think Dustin Hoffman’s face above) erected a similar shrine to their son. It’s full of love, and I know my husband appreciates it, but bear in mind, he’s not their only child, just the only child with a shrine. I am glad of this blatant favouritism though, because it means the accolades my husband has collected throughout his army career have a place to be displayed, and it’s not in my home. His Wall of Focker can live happily at his parents’ house, proudly glowing like the world’s most chaotic art installation, while my home stays blissfully neutral and free of rogue camouflage-patterned memorabilia.

Here’s the thing: I love my husband dearly. I love that he’s achieved so much. I love that he has more certificates than I have matching mugs. But I also love that my walls do not currently look like the foyer of a military museum curated by someone with a deep affection for brass polish. Does that make me selfish? Possibly. I have no doubt that there are lots of military spouses that are proud to display their partner’s achievements in every corner of their home. Unfortunately, that’s just not me. I do occasionally feel a huge wave of guilt that I’m not one of those people. But then I remind myself that he knows I’m so incredibly proud of him. He knows I support him and his career, even through my lack of enthusiasm for decorative memorabilia. Shouldn’t that be enough?

And yet, I can already see exactly how this goes. One day, our child (still lovingly cooking away in my womb) will come home from school with a “Well Done for Trying” sticker, and you know what I’ll do?

I will lose my mind with pride.

I will slap that sticker on the fridge like it’s a Nobel Prize.

I will send a photo of it to everyone I know.

I will collect and store all of these seemingly insignificant achievements.  

I will, in short, become a Wall of Focker maker.

Maybe that’s what parenthood is — collecting the bits of your child’s life, even the ridiculous ones, and displaying them like they’re rare historical artefacts. Even if your child once came last in a swimming race or won a participation ribbon for a sport they actively hated. Maybe it’s not about the achievement at all, but the journey (and the snacks you bribed them with along the way).

So, while my husband’s parents might have beaten us to it with their lovingly curated shrine, I’m starting to understand the instinct.

Will our child have their own wall one day? Probably.

Will it be less embarrassing? Absolutely not.

Will I pretend otherwise? Not even a bit.

But until then, I will proudly maintain my clutter-free aesthetic at home… and leave the glory, the dusting, and the Dustin Hoffman expressions to my in-laws.

Your Camo Wife