You know you’re a military spouse when:
You’ve mowed more lawns than your husband because he’s never there to do it himself.
You can unpack your entire house in two days and make it feel like home instantly.
You know that it’s normal to set fire to shoe polish and that the best way to spit-shine boots is with cotton balls.
You have copies of EVERYTHING.
You know and understand the importance and difference of a GPOA and SPOA.
Your husband is a land/sea nav expert or can move through the ocean blind in a submarine, but he cannot get to the store without GPS.
You only write in pencil because EVERYTHING can and will change.
You need a translator to talk to your civilian friends, only because they have no idea what DFAS, FFSC, TDY, COB, LES, PCS, and ETS mean.
You own more curtains than Target has in stock, but none of them work in “this house”.
You’ve fixed a washer/dryer, installed a car battery, or remodeled a house, on your own.
You track time in duty stations and deployments, not years.
You’ve bought cars, homes, and major appliances . . . alone.
You make friends in minutes, not months or years.
You know that “back home” doesn’t mean at the house you live in now, it refers to your last duty station.
You know that a two month separation IS short, no matter what your civilian friends say.
You have a husband, but you’ve given birth alone.
Your spouse has come home and said, “Do you want the good news or bad news?” And you know you’re either moving or their deploying.
You know better than to go to the PX/NEX or commissary between 11:30 and 13:00, or on payday unless it’s a life or death emergency (seriously).
You know that any reference to “sand” or a “box” describes NTC at Ft. Irwin, Iraq, or Afghanistan, not your kid’s backyard toys.
You have a stock in flat rate shipping boxes, in varying sizes.
You don’t have to think about what time 21:30 is.
You have friends in more states and countries than you have ever lived in.
You have more than one time zone on your phone.
You’ve spent more time apart than you have together.
You know his friends and people he works with only by their last names.
You consider most of your friends “close friends”, but don’t know where they are originally from, only where they’ve been stationed.
You stand for the National Anthem, always.
You have left your Christmas tree up until February, so that you could celebrate after homecoming.
You carry shipping tape, sharpies, and customs forms (already filled out) in your vehicle.
You can spot a service member in civilian clothes a mile away by their posture, haircut and that certain “air about them.”
You pick apart uniforms on TV and in the movies, even though you used to yell at your husband for doing the same thing.
You know your husbands SSN better than your phone number.
You have forgotten your own SSN.
You have “we moved!” cards on hand.
You run for the phone,every time it rings.
You spell everything using the phonetic alphabet, Alpha, Bravo, Charlie…
You know first hand the importance of an airport USO.
You say, “I understand”, but you are thinking, “What the HELL!?”
You have caught yourself staring at the empty chair at dinner.
You have a relationship with your DVR
You laugh when a civilian thinks Homecomings are sooo romantic. They can’t understand the fear, anxiety, stress, frustration or hurt feelings.
You’ve stacked pillows, stuffed animals or let you dog/cat sleep with you so you can feel like your spouse is still there.
**Found a few of these online by unknown authors and the rest I added. ; )