The household I grew up in was an advertisement for the military American Dream. Imagine that woodland camo clad GI reaching for a slice of what every American thought they could have in Reagan's 80s. But in our family, the word 'supplemental' became 'necessary'. My mom worked. My mom worked hard. Military wives can be incredibly versatile. Incredibly tenacious. She worked her 4-5 hrs at the post exchange or cut hair at the salon and then came home and played the role of mother and wife. She did the laundry. She mended the clothing. She packed the lunches. She cooked the dinners. My sisters and I cleaned and complained the entire time. We didn't understand adult life. We didn't understand Mom Life. I suppose my sisters had a head start in the domestic ways. Playing with the dollhouse, playing tea, playing shopping. Playing guns was as domestic as it got for me unless I was cutting the grass.
