Yada Yada Yada

Okay, so why the cupcakes? Because I am hungry, slightly intoxicated, and have food on the brain. I am also very tired, as it is 2 AM and I am sitting here on the computer for the first time in about a week. So.... I felt like I should blog something, even when I have nothing to say. It would seem that my son and husband, through their downloading without abandon, managed to destroy a laptop. I went to bed last Thursday, and woke up the next morning to a fried hard drive. Kaput! But thanks to the help of some good friends, I am back on line.

Could It Be?

John got a call from the recruiter yesterday. He said he will be calling on Monday morning at 0900 to set up an meeting between John and the Batallion Commander regarding the waiver. I was completely unaware that the Batallion cammander would be the one to approve the waiver. Apparently all that is between John now is a physical and a signature from this man he is to meet. It's very exciting and positive news and yet it also has that fear factor in there. This may be it. The main topic of this blog may change from the process of reenlistment to the pratice of being a military wife. There has been much speculation about this meeting in the past 24 hours. We are wondering if the waiver will be granted on the condition that John deploys. If that is the case, he said he would still do it, with absolutely no hesitation. It worries me and causes some sadness. I didn't really want him to say that he wouldn't, but I wanted at least a small amount of hesitation. To show he is thinking of us, the ones who will be left here at home to miss him and worry about him constantly.

Pensive

The other day, someone in an online community to which I belong asked this question: What makes your relationship so great? I made a reply immediatel, of course. The same superficial answer everyone gives: We love each other. Ever since the question was asked, however, I have been contemplatin what my answer should have been. It is not easy to sum up a relationship that has consumed the better part of a decade of one's life. We are not the same people who took the plunge all those years ago. Many people seeking divorces will claim that their spouse has "changed" over the years. Well...Yes, I should hope he or she has changed in some capacity. The events of our lives leave a mark on us whether we with for them to or not. Lessons are learned. Wounds heal and scars form in their place. Some of the things that have happened in the time we have been together have left a sort of stamp on us. Some is for the better and some is not. Regardless, after all of these changes have taken place it is hard to wrap up into a neat, concise statement what it is that makes John and I so special together. I can say that to the average onlooker, our relationship would seem troubled. Pardon the cliche, but we fight like cats and dogs. This man has within him the ability to upset me more than anyone else ever has been able. He simply gets under my skin, knowing exactly which buttons to press. This is only the case because, at times, I believe he knows me better than I know myself. He sees all there is of me. I don't see the arguments as a weakness like most would. In spite of them, we are fiercely loyal to one another. And we love each other madly, almost to the point that sanity is thrown right out the window. I cannot speak for John, but I can say that he has a large piece of me that will always be his. Whatever happens to us, wherever we go, he will have this. But back to the original topic: Why are we so special? I can certainly tell you it has nothing to do with sunshine and roses. Someone looking to marriage as a source of all things romantic will either be perpetually disappointed or setting themselves up for failure. There is a small amount of romance, but most of a lifetime together is wrapped up in the triviality of day-to-day life. The secret is to find those seemingly trivial bits that connect you as a couple. For John and I, there are many. Almost eight years has been composed of the little moments that have bonded us tighter as more and more time passes. If this were a movie, this would be the part where a montage plays to moving music. But this ain't no movie. This is indeed my life. So here you have it: The kaleidoscope of what makes us so special.... Scrambled egg pie and the infamous trip to the grocery store. I lo-uhhhhhhhh! Backrubs. "Marry me and put this on your finger". Cake up the nose. Two pink lines instead of one. Suviving preterm labor and hospitalizations. Hearing that first cry together. His first step/ first word/ first everything. Belting out "She Thinks My Tractor's Sexy". I love you more. Wrestling matches. Junky cars and crappy apartments. The speed at which he can load a truck alone. Those eyes. That smile. That life. Crying on the baby's first day of school. Hearing "That's my WIFE" when my name was called at graduation. His hand on the small of my back when we dance in the kitchen to no music. The way our hands fit together. The solidity of him when I need a rock. The softness of him when I need to cuddle. The way his eyes have started to crinkle in the corners when he smiles and gray hairs have turned up on my head. Dreaming together. The softness of his breath when he sleeps. Being able to draw a map of the freckles on his shoulders. Giggling over bad movies and funny faces. Making fun of ourselves and each other. Laughter. Reading bedtime stories together. The sense of forever.

I'll Be Damned! Not MY Husband!

Who? Me???

OKay, last night, it was a little later than I normally allow Evan to stay up. But he seemed to be having trouble winding down for bed, and since it was not a school night... I decided we were going to play for a while. Well here is the thing. Evan has been collecting those die-cast Cars movie cars. He almost has all of them, except that they came out with more. Let me just say that his collection was not easy to build. Most stores carry the main characters. So anytime we were away from home for whatever reason, I would look at stoes to see if they had different ones. So we have built that collection a car at a time. There are now about 30 characters. And I take it personally when they come up missing. So while in his room, we notice some are gone. I went into his playroom to look... Oh. My. God. I could not even open the door. His playroom is just that: HIS PLAYROOM. It is stuffed to the maximum capacity with any toy a little boy could possibly want. About once a week, we go in there and reorganize, dust and vacuum. The rest of the week, it remains Evan's little area where he can be sloppy and play without betting barked at by adults. That is the point of the room. I was just in there 2 days before. It was spotless. So I pull Evan out of his bedroom and force him to help me clean the room so toys don't get broken by being stepped upon. And the entire time, he is blaming the mess on his little fiend that comes over to play. As in SHE did it all. It would have been possible if I would not have stopped anf thought about his remarks. I cleaned it Friday. Well, John and I did. But he was grounded Friday afternoon because his father was displeased with the way he was treating the belongings that cost so much money. Plus he had gotten mouthy with his father whle outside playing. So there have been no children in the house since the room was cleaned. So when did my baby learn to lie and blame his actions on others? I don't like it one bit!

Still Waiting

Grrrrr. Stupid Waiver! We are still waiting for word on whether John's waiver has gone through. It is driving me crazy waiting for the other shoe to drop. Is he going in? Is he staying home? Do I need to really start a new job around here, or are we moving to God-Knows-Where, USA? And he is losing his motivation, so I am having to fight the daily struggle of keeping him on task. I am drained. I am ready to either get on with this reenlistment thing or end this chapter in our life.

Code Moron