Camo Wife Chronicles

A space where military life and motherhood collide.

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  • The Wall of Focker: A Comedic Sentiment

    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

  • Overwhelmed and Grateful: My Pregnancy Experience so Far

    It probably doesn’t help that my husband has been away Monday to Friday for the last three months, or that we’re crawling toward the end of a house extension—because of course everything happens at once. One thing I don’t think is spoken about enough though is the panic and, on occasion, sadness that can come with pregnancy. Not just the physical exhaustion or the endless to-do lists, but that moment when it hits you: everything is about to change.

    No one can truly prepare you for that.

    Will I be the “natural” I’ve seen so many others be, or am I going to be a terrible mother? A dramatic thought, I know, but these are the things that have flooded my mind lately. Along with money worries (a house extension just before having a baby was probably not the wisest move), body image issues, and don’t even get me started on the birth. Regardless of how this little one decides to make their grand entrance, my body will never be the same again. Yes, I’ll have this beautiful new human in my arms, but what our bodies go through to get them here is nothing short of traumatic. I’m certainly not obsessed with body image, but I do try and take care of myself. Being so out of control of the changes happening to my body during pregnancy is difficult. So many people have told me to just embrace it, after all it’s natural. Whilst I so want to be the person that embraces change with fully open arms, I can’t help but struggle with the fact that no matter how hard I try, I likely won’t recognise this body in the mirror for a long time.

    Then, layered over all of this is a quiet, underlying sadness that the life we knew—one I truly loved—is about to shift forever. Just the two of us won’t be the default anymore. Date nights lose their spontaneity. Trips away become a military operation (luckily, we have some experience there). Even popping out for bread and milk becomes a full-scale event. I’m not complaining, and I’m certainly not ungrateful for this blessing, but I do think these feelings are ok to admit… even if they aren’t talked about nearly enough.

    Trying to explain all of this without sounding ungrateful or regretful is its own challenge. I recently poured these worries out to my husband, and his very logical response was, “It’s normal, every woman goes through this” followed quickly by, “Why haven’t you spoken to someone? You’ll feel better.” Helpful? In theory, yes. Comforting? Not even a little. I’m not sure if it’s a military thing or just a him thing, but empathy is not his strongest quality. He sees a problem and immediately tries to fix it. That’s not a bad thing, he’s amazing at problem solving and always looks for a solution rather than spiralling (we balance each other out that way – I spiral, he fixes). But I didn’t want logic. I wanted him to sit with me in the chaos for a minute—to listen, to understand, to put his arms around me and say, “We can do this. It’ll be okay.”

    So, what does a pregnant woman do when she’s overwhelmed, exhausted, anxious, and then gets the wrong response on top of it all?

    Obviously, she has a complete meltdown. Because… hormones. Anyone who’s been pregnant (well, most people) will understand the irrationality that comes with these hormonal tidal waves. As if nine months of fatigue, weight gain, and irreversible body changes weren’t already enough.

    Here’s the part I’m slowly learning, though: feeling overwhelmed doesn’t mean I’m ungrateful. Feeling scared doesn’t mean I’m not ready. And feeling sad about the end of one chapter doesn’t mean I’m not excited for the next. Two feelings can live in the same space.

    Some days I’m terrified; some days I’m over the moon. Most days I’m somewhere in between—still figuring it out, still growing (emotionally and literally), and still reminding myself that it’s ok not to have all the answers yet.

    This time is messy and emotional and sometimes really hard… but it’s also shaping me into the mother I’m going to be. And maybe that’s enough for now.

    Your Camo Wife

  • Welcome – An Army Wife’s Journey

    Hello, and welcome to Camo Wife Chronicles – a space where the scent of baby wipes mixes with boot polish, and where military life and motherhood collide in all their unpredictable, heart-warming, occasionally chaotic glory.

    I started this blog because, recently, I’ve found myself feeling overwhelmed amongst the chaos of life. I realised, that somewhere between house renovations, navigating pregnancy hormones, and trying to remember where I left my own sanity, I needed a place to release it all. Not just the picture-perfect moments you see on social media, but the real things: the ups, the downs, and all the uncertainties that come with being an army wife and mom to be. The giddy excitement of a homecoming date being announced (and then the frustration when it gets changed… again). And now, navigating pregnancy in the mix, where every kick and flutter brings joy, fear, laughter and questions Google definitely can’t answer.

    This blog is my way of turning all those scattered moments into something that feels whole.

    If you stick around, here’s what you can expect:

    • Honest stories about life alongside someone in uniform – from long days, hard goodbyes, homecomings, and last-minute plan changes.
    • Pregnancy and motherhood adventures – because growing a tiny human while juggling military life and house renovations deserves its own chapter. I’ll share the magical bits, the messy bits, and the bits no one warns you about.
    • The odd baking mishap or chaotic DIY update – because apparently, I thought nesting meant “let’s rebuild half of the house” and my husband thinks maternity leave will turn me into Mary Berry.
    • Book reviews and recommendations for those quiet pockets of time where all you can manage is a warm drink, a blanket and a decent story.
    • A sprinkle of humour – because if we don’t laugh, we might just cry (let’s be honest, we’ll probably cry anyway, but at least there’ll be laughs along the way – and hopefully cake).
    • A supportive, relatable space for anyone who’s ever tried to hold everything together with love, Google, group chats and an emergency stash of snacks.

    My hope is that this tiny corner of the internet becomes somewhere you can come to feel understood, seen and maybe even a little lighter. Whether you’re a fellow military spouse, a mother to be, a new parent, or simply someone who enjoys a good story, I’m so glad you’re here. Grab a brew, get comfy, and join me as I share the chronicle of this wild, wonderful, camouflaged life.

    Your Camo Wife