Cinderella at the White House-part one

I am a Momma with a capital M. My kids are my most precious treasure and when they aren't around , I will mother anyone in in the vicinity, especially if they are military. With four kids serving l have certain amount of worry that goes with the territory, and as they have married and had children( my wonderful grandchildren, Miles, Isabella, and Colton) there is more to worry about. This is especially true when my kids have been deployed. I watched my daughter in laws and my son in law go through the process of holding down the home front and my heart ached. And last December as I wrote my Christmas cards I thought especially of my son Jordan who had deployed to hostile territory with a five month old daughter and who was missing her first birthday.

You see I am a child from another era of war.My Army father and husband served in VietNam and they came home to disrespect and derision. I knew what it was like to have my father away and the sacrifices we made as a family. The thought that someone cared would have made all the difference. I had become aware of the initiatives to support military families led by the First Lady, and although I knew the White House mail bag would be overstuffed I felt led to write a thank you for caring message with a Christmas greeting. It was a mom to mom message from a proud military mom who appreciated that her children's service and sacrifice were valued.

And so I popped it into the mailbox and life went on. Another deployment finished and another one was scheduled and I tried to figure out when I could get my kids altogether again. It was as normal as our lives would be until I returned home from spending time with my husband in Bangladesh to find an invitation in the mail inviting me to a White House dinner in honor of the British Prime Minister. It must be a joke! But there was my name in elegant calligraphy. I called my husband in the middle of the night to tell him he needed to get home. Groggily he suggested I must be hallucinating from jet lag but came around to the idea that maybe I was still sane.

The next day I called in to RSVP and made copies of the invite just to remind myself it was real. Dress shopping, tuxedo shirts, hotel reservations.. The preparations continued until we found ourselves in Washington DC on Tuesday night. We only told our family and a few others with a need to know-we each secretly harbored the thought that it really was a mistake and we would be turned away. A nervous call to the Social Ofice confirmed that yes we really were on the list and yes my letter was read and "noticed"-no kidding!

As we prepared for the dinner there was a constant stream of text messages from our daughter. She was virtually helping me from afar-which lipstick, hair details. We accidentally locked the hotel safe and needed help and I was really wishing I had lost fifty pounds in a week. We realized we had been so hung up on getting ready and meeting these two powerful Heads of State and their wives that we did not think about anyone else. And now it hit me? Who else would be there? Who would we talk to? But of course tucked away in a corner of the tent we could just watch and absorb everything like two church mice. Feeling like we were headed to the prom, we waited for our cab, and waited, until they snagged a limo and we were off.