We were in our new house for just a week when my civilian neighbor irritated the you know what out of me.

She sent her children over, a teenager and a four-year-old, to ask to borrow a can of spaghetti sauce.

We live within walking distance of a really nice grocery store.

But you know, she had just gotten off of work.

And she didn't feel like going.

Her husband was due home any minute.

So, she sent her children marching across the street to us.

We had been in our house for a matter of days. A house, that was flooded with six inches of water in every room when we arrived earlier that week. A house that was filled with work crews trying to remove that water, the debris and every piece of floor, wall and cabinet that was ruined as a result.

We had boxes stacked in the driveway, in the shed, on top of our vehicles, everywhere but inside the house where they belonged. There was too much water to move in. And we had to sort through the disaster while still working both of our full-time jobs. As brand new employees we had yet to earn any time off.  

I couldn't find a dry spot of flooring, let alone a can of spaghetti sauce. And by the way, our kitchen had been ripped out two days prior. We didn't have food in the house. There was nowhere to cook.

 So, I went to see my new neighbor. And I politely explained that we just didn't have any sauce to give.

Oh, I know, she said. But you have so many kids I figured you would have extra food. Then she reminded me how tired she was. She had worked all day. Her husband was tired, he had worked all day. She couldn't possibly call him to pick up a can on the way home.

And inside my mind, I was screaming, you have got to be freaking kidding me.

This was our introduction to civilian life. My husband had just retired. We moved to a non-military town, with non-military motivation.

And while I had always known how incredibly self-motivated and capable military spouses were, and figured we were a little better at managing chaos better than the average gal, this left me wondering how some people managed to function on a daily basis.

She spent all day at her office, located around the corner in our small town, next to the really nice grocery store and minutes from our neighborhood but couldn't bother to pick up a can of spaghetti sauce?

Meanwhile, daily life on a military base includes seeing multiple ladies carting multiple children to school events, extra-curricular activities, and at least one kid who is throwing up into the commissary to get a single bottle of baby Tylenol, all while their husbands are deployed. And, they probably had at least one household item, tire or car engine die within that week.  

They are not just tired, they are exhausted. They haven't had a full night's sleep in months. They carry the entire load of their household and sometimes the community, as these ladies are also the ones who step into multiple volunteer roles.

They spend many days of these deployments managing emergencies, tending to military families facing death and destruction and overcoming the chaos that comes with war.

My civilian neighbor was struggling to overcome the fact that she didn't have a can of spaghetti sauce.

I looked around my broken house, at the giant, noisy machines whirring and sucking the water out of my home and was suddenly very thankful for the Army. For throwing me to the wolves, for teaching me how to cope and reminding me that yes, this too will not just pass, but will get better.

Then I hustled all five kids into the car and we drove to the grocery store and stumbled through the aisles as they whined and cried and complained. We made spaghetti on the grill that night, and saved some for my husband who didn't get home from his job until almost 10 p.m.

And it was the best meal ever.